Back to the future: Florence Nightingale effect

Lorain dabbed the boys forehead with a cold, damp, cloth. She didn�t know if it was helping but it was
all she could think to do. Her father had hit this poor kid with his car a couple of hours ago and they had
brought him here and had he had been unconscious ever since. The local doctor had made a house call and
examined him, but finding no injury other than the knock on the head he determined that it was best to
let this lad sleep it off and recover in his own time.
She looked down at the poor kid, he was about her age, 18. He had been unconscious since he was brought
into their room and placed in her sisters bed. But during that time he had stirred a little, but not
awoken. She patted down his head again. He looked so helpless laying there unconscious, like some kind of
little lost puppy. Her heart felt pangs as she looked at him. She bit her lip and smiled, feeling a blush
rising on her face. She glanced at the door, listening hard to make sure her parents or siblings
weren�t approaching her room. Lorain gripped the covers of the bed and lifted them up. She giggled as
she stared at the tight jeans the boy was wearing. Tossing the covers back her shaking hands reached
forward and gripped the button of the denim. It popped without a problem. With shaking fingers she
worked down the zip slowly. With her ears the noise of the zip was deafening, surely her parents would
come racing up the stairs.
Purple underwear? Lorain had never seen purple underwear before. His name was sewn into the
waistband, all over it. Calvin Klein. This boy was getting weirder by the second. Lorain gently worked the
jeans down Calvin�s legs. Pulling them free she sat them down onto the hope chest. His legs were
slightly muscular, he must do a lot of exercise with them. But Lorain wasn�t looking at the boys legs,
her eyes were drawn quite a bit higher. The purple underwear was very tight and showed off a very nice
sized bulge.
Lorain felt her nipples hardening to little peaks and rubbing against the rough material of her dress. She
bit her lip and breathed deeply against the slowly rising unnatural feelings she found awakening inside
her. She had been warned about these urges, she was a good modern 50�s girl and knew she should
fight against them. But the longer she stared at that bulge the more she could feel her resolve
weakening. Yet she couldn�t find the ability to pull her eyes away.
Dropping to her knees Lorain took a deep breath to calm herself. She just couldn�t resist any more.
Reaching down to his crotch, palming it teasingly. She found it amusing how it twitched at her touch. It
felt odd, a little spongy and warm. Lorain gripped the elastic waistband of the underwear and gently
lifted it up, looking into the dark recesses. Her eyes widened as she looked down at her first cock. It was
over three inches long, a lot bigger than she�d expected. It looked soft, and pale, but she couldn�t
tell with the shade of the purple underwear over them. Lorain felt strange tingles down between her
legs, it was more of those urges she�d been warned against, but she didn�t have the will to resist
anymore. She wanted to explore them and know how far they could take her.
She grabbed the purple underwear. Calvin stirred slightly but didn�t wake. That was a nasty knock
he�d taken, no doubt he would be out for hours yet. She eased the underwear down his legs, freeing his
meat from it�s cloth prison. There was a forest of dark hair growing all around the cock and all over
the balls. They hung low and seemed huge to her. Did all boys walk around with this things in their pants?
She couldn�t guess how they did it.
As Lorain stared at the cock she felt more of those tingles growing between her legs. Her underwear felt
damp and uncomfortable. She bit her lip and giggled as she reached under her dress and pulled the damp
cloth away from her crotch. She carefully pulled off her underwear and exposed her pussy to the cool air
of the room. She felt wet down there but it was a very good feeling. Her fingers reached down slowly, she
was nervous. As soon as her fingers brushed against her pussy lips she tossed her head back and moaned
softly as a bolt of pleasure rose up through her. It had felt so good. She stared at Calvin�s cock and
felt the urge to touch herself again.
Rising up on her knees Lorain leaned over the unconscious Calvin and with shaking fingers gently brushed
his cock lightly. She cupped his balls in her hand, they felt heavier than she would have guessed. Then
rubbed lightly along the shaft of his penis, which had started to swell the moment she�d touched it.
She stared at it hardened in her hands, she didn�t stop moving her fingers, rubbing along the growing
shaft and feeling the veins under the skin throbbing as they filled with blood.
With her other hand she unbuttoned her dress enough to reach inside and grab her breast. Her nipple was
so hard and sore, but when she pinched it between her fingers she had to stifle a groan. She shut her eyes
and tossed her head back as she felt Calvin�s hard cock in one hand and her breast in the other. Lorain
bit her lip and tried not to moan in case the house heard her. Her pussy was so wet and warm, like a fire
was alight down there. She couldn�t stop herself any longer.
She released Calvin�s rock hard cock and climbed onto the bed, standing on her knees over him. She
rubbed her fingers over the six and a half inch piece of hard meat and guided it to her virginal pussy.
Lorain took a deep breath and slowly lowered herself onto his erect prick. She shoved her fist into her
mouth to stifle her cries she felt the hard prick spread her tight insides. The pain was like nothing she
had ever felt before, she didn�t know it would hurt. She couldn�t bring herself to pull him out of
her now that his dick was inside her. She continued sliding down, inch by inch, feeling the cock filling and
stretching her cunt to it�s very limits. She ground her hips slightly, feeling her wet tightness sliding
on his cock. She gasped, every move of her hips was sending bolt after bolt of ecstacy through his tiny
body.
Lorain took his entire manhood inside her. A twinge of pain went through her virginal cunt, but as she
began to move her hips she barely noticed the pain as it began to be overthrown by the growing sensual
pleasure.
She squeezed her hips tightly and began to grind her hips. Her hands moved upwards and squeezed her
breasts through her dress and she moaned softly as powerful waves of pleasure charged through her.
Lorain moaned breathlessly as she thrust her hips down on his cock again, feeling the massive shaft
hitting her clit and G-spot at the same time. She felt a pressure rising in her belly, she couldn�t think
straight anymore, there was nothing but giant crashing waves of ecstasy burning through her brain.
His cock was twitching wildly, she knew he was near to orgasm. She squeezed her own tits, fanning the
fire of her ecstasy even more.
"Oh god. Oh Yes." She gasped breathlessly. She ground her hips harder, pressing the cock deeper into her
cunt.
Lorain stiffened for a second, she turned a bright shade of red seemed unable to breath. Fire and ice
coursed through every cell in every corner of her body. Half a second later she threw her head back and
moaned deeply as she reached climax. Her pussy walls clamped down tightly on Calvin�s prick. The
sudden tightness and frenzy of activity from the horny girl was too much and sent his unconscious body
over the edge, his balls exploded, sending a torrent of hot cum into Lorain�s insides. She fell forward,
feeling a deep wave of satisfaction fall over her as she felt the massive hot load spreading through every
inch of her pussy. She rested her head on his chest, holding onto his shoulders. She breathed quickly and
heavily and head nothing but her heart pounding in her head.
She ground her hips a couple more times, humping away the last traces of her orgasm finally washed out
of her. A slight wave of exhaustion consumed her. She felt Calvin�s dick starting to soften inside her.
She shuffled a little on top of him, feeling her hard nipples rub again his toned chest. She bit her lip, tiny
sparks of excitement danced through her. She loved it. She loved him. Lorain looked down at his sleeping
form. So weak and helpless, like a little lost puppy. It didn�t matter, she would take care of him.
Slowly she pulled herself off him, feeling a little disapointment at the feeling of emptiness that filled
her cunt. Slowly she worked herself up to her feet. Outside it had started to rain, quite the storm was
beginning. She paced over to the window to look at the outside world. She could see the spot on the
street where Calvin had been knocked down by her dad.
Behind her was a groan. Calvin was stirring. �Mom? Mom is that you?� She turned to face him. She
could see his eyes looking at her through the dark. Gorgeous and loving eyes.
�There, there now.� She said gently.
End.
Dangerous
Strange Happenings
I would have never suspected what would happen that night or anything that followed afterward. To be
honest its still unbelievable to me in some way. So many things have happened, I don't even know where
to begin. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start with the night this whole mess started.It was a
late, stormy night. Lightening flashed violently, quickly followed by loud cracks of thunder. The wind
howled around the house, almost threatening to blow it away. It was the perfect night to stay up and
watch horror movies. I huddled in front of my tv, looking over all my movies. I brushed my shoulder
length black hair out of my face as I tried to decide which movie I wanted to watch. Finally my hazel
eyes rested on a familiar case. Carefully, I pulled out the black case and smiled. “House of a 1000 Corpses. I
haven't seen this in years!” I exclaimed, opening the case and popping the dvd in.
I watched the movie closely, enjoying every twisted minute of it. Of course my favorite character was
Otis. Something about him drew me to him. Even when I first saw the movie I felt drawn to Otis. He was
evil, he was crazy, he was dangerous but I still found myself attached to the character quite strongly.
When the movie ended, I looked at the sequel with a disdainful look. They had changed Otis' character a
lot in 'The Devil's Rejects'. He was still the same personality wise but they had changed how he looked
entirely. They had taken away everything that had made him desirable to me. Not only that but the
whole family was killed at the end. Still, as much as I hated the movie, it was a part of the series and I
had to watch it. Reluctantly, I pulled the yellow case from my collection and popped the movie in.
As the movie drew to the inevitable climax, I found myself getting more and more distraught over their
impending deaths. Certainly they needed to be put down after everything they did but that didn't stop
me from feeling the need to save them. I stood, placing my hands on the tv as the shoot out was coming
closer. My distress grew to such a point that I made a prayer to Luna, a moon deity I worshiped. “Please,
let me help them,” I whispered into the darkness of my room. What happened next completely took me off
guard.
All of a sudden the room was spinning and I was surrounded in a bright, white light. I closed my eyes to
protect them from the light, only opening them when it had faded. The sight that greeted my eyes took
my breath away. I was standing in front of a familiar gas station with a familiar billboard that read
“Captain Spaulding's Museum of Monsters and Madmen” in glowing neon. The same clown statue stood by
the door, reciting its weird, almost perverted lines as it spasmed and laughed. A chill of fear ran down
my spine as I took in the sight. “No. This can't be happening. I'll close my eyes and when I open them, I'll be
back in my safe house,” I murmured to myself, closing my eyes again.
When I opened them, I wasn't all that surprised to see I was still standing there. “What the hell is
happening! I'm not supposed to be here! How did I even get here when here isn't even supposed to exist!” I
yelled to the heavens, not caring if the clown inside heard me. The only answer I got was a warm wind
blowing my black clothing. I sighed, breathing in the dry, dusty air. It tasted like oil, gasoline and fried
chicken, an unholy combination.
“Is this because of my prayer?” I asked the empty night. Clenching my hands into fists, I grit my teeth
and decided to play this out. If this was because of my unthinking prayer, I would make the most of my
opportunity. The first thing I had to do was talk to the horrible man inside the gas station. My memories
of the man made me cringe. I honestly wanted nothing to do with the man but I had to ask him the
quintessential question. The question that would make him call the Firefly family and alert them I was
coming. That question was “Where can I find Dr. Satan's grave?” Knowing fully the danger I was probably
putting myself into, I steeled myself and walked through the glass door.
The stench of fried chicken and formaldehyde hit my nose with such a force I almost gagged. A bell over
the door faintly tinkled as it opened and shut. The entire room was filled with display cases and odd
curios. Strange, mummified creatures sat inside the glass cases, staring out with dead, glass eyes. The
whole place gave off a very creepy, dangerous vibe and I had to fight to keep my composure.
The white face painted clown behind the counter was already staring at me, lust written all over his
face. He was bald and had a scraggly beard. He was wearing a red and white clown suit that had blue
stars on it as well as a tiny hat and huge, red clown shoes. He had no eyebrows, instead had fake ones
drawn on in a weird arch. Under the 'eyebrows' was blue makeup and on his lips was black lipstick. He
leered at me, his brown eyes roving over my body. Reluctantly, I walked to the small counter he stood
behind.
“Um, hello. My name is Raven. I'm looking for Dr. Satan's grave. I heard a rumor you might know
something about it,” I said as confidently as I could. As the words left my mouth, the leer dropped off his
face and he looked irritated.
“Now why does a nice girl like you want to go messin' with Dr. Satan fer,” he grumbled, leaning over the
counter. His sour breath hit my nose, almost making me back away. From the looks of his teeth, he never
brushed them.
“Well I'm a college student doing research on famous serial killers. I figured going to his grave would
help me understand the man,” I replied, giving my best flirty smile. It turned my stomach to do so but I
had a feeling it would help me get what I want. Thankfully my hunch was correct and a perverted smile
spread across his painted face.
“Well, I'll tell you what little lady, I'll draw you a map,” he responded, whipping out a dirty, stained,
wrinkled piece of paper and a green crayon.
I watched silently as he painstakingly drew out the map before handing it to me. “Just follow the
instructions on here and you should get there. Now, how 'bout a roll in the hay?” he asked, leering at me
again. I fought to swallow bile at his suggestion, outwardly smiling kindly.
“I'm sorry but I have to get going. I want to try to get there before dark,” I responded.
“Well, at least take some of my fried chicken,” he suggested, reaching under the counter and pulling out a
grease stained, brown paper bag. Trying to keep the distaste I felt off my face, I reached forward and
took the bag.
“Thank you sir,” I responded, smiling fakely. Then I turned and walked out the door.
As soon as the female left, all hints of joviality left Captain Spaulding's face. “Jesus motherfucking Christ,
not another one,” he grumbled to himself, going into a small side room that was by the counter. Inside the
room was a huge chicken fryer and a small table with a black, corded phone sitting on it. He picked up the
receiver, dialing a number and waiting for an answer. “Yeah, hi. Got another one comin' yer way on foot,”
he mumbled.
I threw the bag of chicken into a ditch as soon as I was out of sight of the gas station. I sure as hell
wasn't going to eat anything Spaulding had prepared. Standing on the shoulder of the road, I tried to
make out the map in the setting sun. According to it, I only had a few more miles to go before I had to
turn left onto a dirt road. “This is such a bad idea,” I whispered to myself as I continued onward. The fact
that I was about to attempt to slip into a den of murderers to save them seemed downright ludicrous.
Otis was by far the craziest and most unpredictable of the bunch. Who's to say the whole family wouldn't
just kill me as soon as they saw me. As much as I wanted to save Otis from his fate, I had no desire to die
in the process. I would have to play this very carefully.
The walk was long and boring. I almost wanted to hitchhike but there were no cars to bum a ride from.
Besides, knowing what I did about the family I was going to see, I doubted I wanted a ride from anyone
around here. So I continued until I saw a dirt road in the distance. When I got to the small, desolate
road, I stood at the mouth for a moment. I knew that as soon as I set my foot on that hard packed dirt,
there was no turning back. Taking in a deep breath to steel myself, I started walking down the road just
as the sun began to dip behind the horizon.
It was so quiet. It was as if no creature around dared to make a noise. The emptiness of the road as well
as the dead silence gave me a creepy feeling. Almost as if I was being watched, which I wouldn't have
doubted. Slowly, the light left the sky and the area I was walking in began to get really dark. So it was
with some relief that I finally spotted the broken down looking house that the Firefly clan inhabited.
Several broken down cars littered the vast yard and several dismembered doll bodies hung on the porch
like morbid Christmas decorations. Hesitantly, I walked onto the wooden porch which groaned and
creaked under my weight in protest. With a shaky hand, I reached forward and knocked at the white,
wooden door.
Slowly, the door creaked open, the hinges complaining loudly. Inside stood a rather heavy woman with
wild blond hair and even wilder hazel eyes. She was dressed in a multi-colored, fur lined robe with a
green corset and tan dress underneath. Her pink lipsticked lips spread into a wide, deceptively friendly
smile. “Well hello dear! What are yew doin' here?” she asked in a thick southern accent.
“I'm here to research Dr. Satan,” I responded, doing my level best to smile back. I knew this statement
would get me in the door but I would have to come up with a good lie for Otis. Otherwise he would
probably kill me. Dr. Satan was one of the things that completely set him off.
The smile on her face faltered at the mention of that name but only for a second. “What is your name my
dear?”
“Raven,” I replied, holding my hand out to shake. She completely ignored my hand, spreading her arms
wide so her robe opened.
“I'm Mama Firefly. Come on in,” she responded, moving to the side to allow me admittance.
Trying not to show how truly petrified I was, I stepped into the huge house, jumping when I heard the
front door close and lock behind me. “Now go make yirself comfortable in t'livin' room. I'll go make us
some cocoa,” she offered before bustling into the kitchen. Trying not to let my legs shake, I walked past
the stairs and to the right. I entered into a spacious, well lit living room. It had a large couch, two
comfortable looking chairs and an old tv.
Sitting in one of the chairs was another blonde woman, only this one was much younger. She wore a
cowboy hat as well as some tight fitting pink pajamas. She turned her head to look at me, her icy blue
eyes boring into me. “Hello! Who are yew?” she exclaimed in a thick southern accent, excitedly, hopping off
the chair to stand in front of me. The smell of her perfume was cloyingly sweet and I had to fight to not
put some distance between us.
“Raven,” I responded, offering my hand to her. She took my hand in hers and shook vigorously for a few
moments before letting go.
“Its so good to have another girl in the house!” she squealed happily, jumping up and down and clapping
her hands. I stared at her with what I could only assume was a nonplussed expression because she smiled
at me before taking me by the hand and leading me to the couch.
I sat down on the huge, floral patterned abomination, a puff of dust rising from the decrepit couch and
making me sneeze. “My name's Baby. So what are ya doin' 'round these parts?” she asked, sitting next to me
and staring at me with those intense blue eyes.
“She came t'research Dr. Satan,” Mama replied, coming in carrying a tray with three steaming mugs on it.
Baby's smile wavered a bit at the answer but she kept her grin. Mama set the tray on a coffee table in
front of the couch before sitting on the arm chair to the left of the couch.
“Now why do ya wanna research someone like that?” Baby drawled, grabbed a mug that was overflowing
with marshmallows.
“Well, to tell the truth, I have a fascination with serial killers. Dr. Satan seemed the most fascinating so
I decided to research him,” I replied, grabbing my own cup. Not that I was dumb enough to drink anything
they gave me.
Both women stared at me for a good long while before Mama gave Baby a pointed look. Baby suddenly
stood, looking like she was in a hurry. “Oh I forgot! I have some stuff I need ta do! See you later Raven,”
she chirped before skipping off.
“Now, why would ya be so interested in serial killers?” Mama asked, picking up her mug. Sensing I was
treading awfully close to disaster, I tried to think quickly.
“Well, I'm not so sure I can tell you that, Mrs. Firefly,” I replied, trying to buy myself some time. I
couldn't very well tell her the truth, she wouldn't have believed me and that would have been it for me.
“Oh, why don't ya give it a try. It'll be our little secret. Also jest call me Mama,” she responded, blowing
on her mug before taking a sip.
“Um, well this is going to sound kinda strange but I've always wanted to try to become a serial killer,” I
finally responded. Of course that was bullshit but I hoped it would buy me some favor with her. Mama
only quirked an eyebrow before setting down her drink.
“Well ma dear, I think there's someone ya should meet,” she replied, setting her cup down and standing up.
Reluctantly, I set my own cup down and stood up to follow her. Mama led me to the stairs before pointing
up them.
“Jest go up them stairs and go to the last room on the right. I would follow but he dun like interruptions
so much,” she said with a small smile.
“Who? And if he doesn't like being disturbed, wouldn't me knocking on his door be a bad idea?” I asked,
even though I knew full well who I was going to be seeing.
“You'll be fine. Jest tell him Mama sent ya,” she responded, standing there watching me. I gave a meek nod
before beginning to go up the wooden stairs.
The hall was long and very dimly lit. There were four rooms and two bathrooms interspersed through
the corridor. Trying not to show just how scared I was, I made my way down the too dark hall until I
was standing in front of the door Mama had instructed me to knock on. Barely able to control the
shakiness of my hand, I reached forward and knocked on the wooden door.

Into the Abyss

WARNING!! : Involves handling dead bodies, desecration of dead bodies, a dead animal and cannibalism.
Author's Note: This is NOT going to be a happy story. I will try to head the chapters with appropriate
warnings but be aware this is going to be extremely dark. There will be gore, there will be murder, there
will be some really rough subject matter. This is not the story for you if this bothers you.
Chapter Two: Into the Abyss

The door whipped open to reveal a pale wraith of a man that towered over me. He glared down at me, his
stringy, greasy, shoulder length, almost white, blonde hair hung in his face. His icy blue eyes narrowed
when he saw me. He wore a blood stained, white t-shirt that had an American flag on it with the words
“Burn this flag” under it. His blood crusted jeans clung to his thin hips and he glared down at me. “Who
t'hell are you?” he hissed angrily.“I, erm.. M-mama sent me up. I'm Raven,” I replied meekly, trying not to
shake.
“Git yer ass in here then,” he snarled, moving enough to allow me admittance into his room. Knowing he
wasn't very patient, I scampered into the room and tried not to tense when the door shut behind me and
locked. Otis stalked around me, like a lion eyeing its perspective prey, before he stopped in front of me.
“Why the hell're ya here?” he growled, his face inches from mine. His breath was sour and smelled of
something long dead. It took everything in me to not back away from the ghoul.
“I-I want to become a serial killer. I've always found them fascinating,” I responded, leaving out the lie I
had told Mama. I knew it was suicide to mention Dr. Satan to Otis.
He sneered in response, showing his badly yellowed teeth. “How did ya find out 'bout me,” he hissed,
unsheathing a huge, very sharp looking, hunting knife from a sheath on his left hip. My eyes widened at
the sight of the knife and all my survival instincts screamed at me to run. That this had been an
extremely stupid idea. Knowing my life was on the line, I chose my next words carefully.
“I had heard about you on the underground. All the people I talked to said you were the best. That your
killings were more like artwork. I used Dr. Satan as a way to come to you as many said that was the only
way to get to you,” I responded, hoping he wouldn't just slit my throat for the hell of it. His eyes
narrowed again before he slid his knife back into its sheath.
“Prove it,” he ordered, glaring down at me.
“How?” I asked, only slightly relieved that the knife had disappeared.
Instead of answering, he led me into a room attached to his bedroom that was blocked off by a curtain.
There was a huge, metal, medical table in the room and on it was something that almost made me vomit.
Half of a man's torso sat on the table, his flesh had a gray pallor from being dead a long time. Any blood
that had been there had long since been cleaned away. All the organs had been scooped out of his torso
and he had been stuff with polyfil. It took every ounce of willpower I had to not vomit on the spot.
The monster glowered at me for a long time before going off into a curtained off section that was on the
left wall of the room. Trying not to fidget, I looked around the room to get a better idea of where I was
as well as where the nearest exit was. Not that it would do me much good with the bedroom door being
locked. All the windows in the room were blocked off with a semi-transparent, black material, making the
room very dark and hard to see in. It didn't help that the sun had set and night was setting in. Suddenly
I realized I would be staying the night in a house full of insane, highly unpredictable people. I stomped
down on my rising panic harshly, knowing that if I showed how afraid I was I would just end up as
another victim.
A loud rattling broke my reverie and I jumped slightly when a bright light was suddenly switched on.
The light looked like a silver bowl on its side and had a blindingly bright light bulb in it. It sat on the
new medical table Otis had brought out which unfortunately hand something else on it. The thing sitting
on the table almost made me recoil in horror. It was a headless body of a leopard that had all the organs
scooped out and had been stuff with polyfil. Also on the table was an industrial needle and thread. A
metal rod welded to a flat, metal platform and a bottle of heavy duty glue. Slowly it dawned on me what
Otis wanted me to do and I bit my lower lip to prevent the scream that now clawed at the back of throat
from coming out. There was no way I could make the ghoulish statue he wanted! I would go mad!
Suddenly aware of the feeling of being watched, I looked up to see the wraith glaring at me, his icy eyes
blazing. The message in them was crystal clear. If I failed to do this, I would be subject to tortures none
of his victims had even seen before. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I decided to deal with
prepping the leopard body. Grabbing the metal rod, I grabbed the ultra super glue and squeezed a generous
dollop onto the metal plat on the bottom. Then, trying hard not to grimace, I turned to the leopard body.
'At least any blood that had been there was long gone' I thought to myself as I shoved aside some of the
polyfil to glue the rod to the skin of the carcass.
I pulled my hand out of the cavity as fast as I dared with Otis still watching me closely. Reluctantly, I
turned to the other half of my 'project'. The man had been handsome in his life. He had short, brown hair
and his green eyes stared at nothing. He had been rather lithe so he wouldn't be too heavy. Still, I had no
desire to touch the dead flesh in front of me. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to grab a hold of the
hollowed out torso. With a grunt of effort, I tried to lift the half body but simply found myself unable to
budge it even a little bit.
Suddenly I felt hot breath on the nape of my neck as pale arms came around me. His hands rested over
mine as he lifted the torso. Despite the horrible situation I was in, I couldn't help the small blush at his
nearness as he helped me carry the torso to the other table. He stayed pressed close behind me, his sour
breath huffing in my ear. Why was he so close? Why was he touching me and helping me lift it? Was that
a boner I felt pressing into my butt? Horrified, I realized that the ghoul behind me was getting aroused
by putting this morbid artwork together. Then I realized that my own body was responding back to him,
to my further horror. What the fuck was wrong with me?!
Gripping my smaller hands in his, he helped lift the torso over the rod until the body rested on the
leopard's chest. His hands left the torso to rest on my hips, moving up to cup my breasts. His breathing got
more raspy as his ground his rock hard arousal into my jean covered ass. Suddenly he released me,
watching me with burning eyes. “Finish it,” he hissed, the front of his jeans straining with his arousal.
Shaking with fear as well as ashamed arousal, I gathered the thick, black thread and the huge needle.
Trying desperately to get rid of the arousal I felt due to Otis, I threaded the needle.
Thankfully sewing the two dead bodies together was better than a cold shower. There was no way I
wanted arousal to be associated with this situation. I wasn't the best seamstress either so fear and
disgust slowly replaced the unwanted burning in my lions. My seams weren't straight at all and stood out
like a sore thumb. All I could hope for was that Otis would accept something that was less than
perfection. When I was finally done tying the final knot, I felt a lump of fear in my throat as I stepped
away to examine my work.
It looked worse than Frankenstein's monster. The black thread was sewn in such a way that it was
glaringly visible, the seems were crooked and bulged outward. I didn't dare look at Otis, instead keeping
focused on the 'artwork' in front of me. Suddenly I felt him behind me, his hands wrapping in my black
hair. Pulling hard enough to elicit tears, he pulled my head back until I was looking at him. My view of
him was upside down due to the position of my head but I could see him clearly. He had an odd grin on his
pale face as his blue eye glittered.
Suddenly he was pulling me into the bedroom by my hair, causing me to stumble in a effort to catch up. I
made no move to resist or fight because I knew that would only make it worse. Next thing I knew I was
being flung onto a grimy bed. My skin crawled at the contact with the greasy, crusty, dingy sheets that
had probably never been washed. Then a light came on next to the bed making me squint. It was just a
normal lamp but was still startling in the darkness. Then he was on top of me and all my worries about
my smarting eyes were gone as I looked up at the murderer hovering over me. His lips were twisted in a
weird sneer as he sat back on his haunches. His pale hands went to the button of his jeans as he began to
remove them.
A hot flash shot through my body as I realized he was getting ready to have sex with me. Others may
consider it rape as I had no desire to have sex at that moment but there was no way I was going to deny
him. Also a small part of me, way back in my head, wanted him to take me, wanted to be dominated by
him. I was ashamed of that small part, especially with everything that had happened so far. Any normal
person would have just let him kill them by now. Anybody else would have been thoroughly disgusted and
fighting by now and here I was letting him strip off my black jeans. Hell, I was even lifting my hips to
help him get them off me.
He smiled, his approval of my compliance in his eyes as he slid his own jeans off. His arousal stood erect
from a forest of pale pubes. It must have been eight inches in length at least and had a foreskin. He pulled
off his t-shirt, revealing a pale, hairless chest. He was so thin you could see the outline of his ribs and
hips under his taut, pale skin. Next he was trying to lift my shirt off so I sat up to help him remove the
article of clothing. A growl of frustration left him when he saw my bra.
Next thing I knew he had his knife in his hand again, the dangerously sharp tip under the material of my
bra. “D-don't! I can remove it,” I protested, clapping my hands over my mouth as the words left me. What
was I doing?! Any defiance was sure to be a death wish! I was surprised when, instead of the knife at my
throat I heard a rough chuckle.
“Ya won't be needin' it,” he hissed, his burning eyes daring me to challenge him as he moved the razor
sharp edge up under the material. My heart dropped at his words. This was the first time it hit me that I
would never be able to go home again. It wasn't just the fact that the place I was didn't exist, it was also
the fact that even if I could get back to my own reality, Otis wouldn't let me go. I belonged to him now.
The sound of ripping fabric broke into my thoughts, bringing me back to the situation at hand. The now
useless bra was tossed into a pile of clothes near the end of the bed and suddenly his mouth was on my
right breast, dragging a gasp from my lips.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw his pale hand place the knife on the nightstand. A cold chill of fear ran
through me as I recognized it as a subtle warning. If I became less than compliant, the knife was within
easy reach. He released my breast, grinning at me in a way that sent a chill down my spine. Using one leg
to force my legs open, he settled between them and rested the tip of his erection against my slit.
Knowing that I was only slightly aroused, I relaxed myself as much as possible to mitigate any pain. He
frown in displeasure as he rubbed his erection my semi-dry entrance. He made a hissing noise in his chest
before spitting a wad of saliva and mucus into his hand. Locking his eyes with mine, he rubbed the mixture
on his shaft before repositioning himself at her entrance. His eyes still burning into mine, he thrust
forward, taking my virginity.
I couldn't help my body's reaction to the sudden pain. My back arched, my eyes filled with tears and I let
out a quiet cry. Ignoring my pain, Otis kept thrusting slowly and closed his eyes in pleasure. Trying to
ignore the burning in my groin, I closed my eyes and went limp. Thankfully he finished quickly, shooting
his hot load into my womanhood. He pulled out slowly, getting off the bed and getting dressed.
Shakily I sat up, pulling my clothes from the clothes pile and putting them on. As I pulled on my shirt,
Otis came extremely close to me, his pale eyes glaring. It was then that I noticed his odd facial hair. He
had a long, scraggly, white-blonde beard on both of his cheeks. The growth stopped a couple inches from
his mouth. There he had a weeks worth of stubble growing. His blue eyes burned into me for a few more
moments before he backed off. “Go git yirself some dinner,” he growled, dismissing me with a wave of his
hand.
At his words my stomach let out a loud roar, making me blush. Nodding in his general direction, I
scampered towards the door just a little too fast to be casual. My heart racing in my chest, I reached
toward the doorknob when I heard his voice again. “Jest come back when yir done,” he growled. I didn't
have to turn around to know that he was glaring at me.
“Okay,” I replied as steadily as I could, before opening the door and leaving the room. I shut the door
behind me, letting out a sigh of relief. A whistle of approval mad me jump out of my skin. Clutching my
chest, I turned to see Baby staring at me from the doorway of her room. Her room was across the hall
from Otis' and a bit further down the hall.
“He ain't never let one leave b'fore,” she stated, awe in her voice. Not knowing how to respond, I managed
to smile at her before heading up the hall and towards the stairs.
I made my way to kitchen, giving the cluttered dining table a wide berth. As soon as I entered the room,
Mama turned to me with surprise on her face. “Wh-well. Are you hungry ma dear?” she asked, her normal
smile reappearing.
“Yes Mrs.. er, I mean, Mama,” I replied, smiling as best as I could. My stomach twisted in hunger at the
mere suggestion of food.
“Well yer in luck! The roast I put in the ov'n is jest 'bout done,” she chirped, turning and putting on oven
mitts.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked, doing my best to be polite.
“Now don't yew worry yir purty lil head. Go wait in t'dining room,” she replied, giving me a fond pat on
the head.
Blinking in confusion at how friendly she was being, I went into the dining room and choose a chair near
the middle of the table to sit on. Baby came flouncing down the stair just as I sat down, smiling at me
with a knowing smile. She plopped down in a chair next to me, leaning on me and pulling me close with one
arm while the wood of the chair protested. “Otis has got himself quite a nice tool, don't he,” she whispered
in my ear, grinding against me lewdly. It took every ounce of self control I had to not recoil in horror.
Then a hot blush colored my cheeks as the meaning of her words began to sink in.
Tiny came lumbering into the room while Baby was practically sitting on my lap. The giant's deformed
head nearly brushed the ceiling as he lumbered towards a chair. The wooden floor creaked loudly as he
plodded along. Slowly, he turned to stare at me, a too small mask resting over his scarred face. His
deformed head bulged in weird ways and he waves a huge, half melted flipper of a hand at me. Swallowing
the bile that came to my throat at the sight of this creature, I managed a smile and waved back.
Just then Mama came in, holding a giant, silver domed plate. With a smile, she set the huge platter down
and turned to Tiny. Quickly, she scrawled something on the small notebook hanging around his neck. The
huge creature took a moment to read it before lumbering off up the stairs. Then Mama removed the dome
to reveal a really suspicious looking piece of meat. The smell from the mystery meat made me start to
drool but I felt a twist of nausea as I began to ponder just what it was. This meat didn't look like any
meat I had ever seen before.
A swearing old man with the same style of facial hair as Otis came stumbling downstairs as Mama began
to hand out plates of meat and vegetables. The squat, barrel shaped man's blue eyes shot around wildly
before he sat down. The overhead lights made the bald top of his head almost glow. Glaring at me lewdly,
he grabbed his plate and began stuffing food into his mouth.
I looked down at the plate before me, grimacing inwardly. There was a good chance that this meat
belonged to another human. Not quite daring to turn down the meal, I began to eat while fighting the
urge to gag. The meat itself was quite pleasant, tasting like fatty pork. It was just the idea of possibly
eating somebody that was giving me a hard time. Finally, I managed to choke down the grisly meal. “I
have to get back,” I whispered apologetically, with a small smile.
“Oh that's okay darlin'! Do me a favor and bring Otis up some food. I don't expect he'll eat it but its worth a
try,” Mama responded with a smile, holding out a plate of food for me to take with me.
Returning the smile as best as I could, I gingerly took the plate and went back upstairs. As I went I felt
the old man's eyes on my ass. Just as I was passing out of ear shot I could swear I heard Baby hiss, “Don't
even think about it Grandpa. She's Otis'.” That small statement sent a shiver of fear and excitement down
my spine. Did him letting me roam free give me a status with the family? Pondering this question, I stood
in front of Otis' door, hesitating a moment before knocking.
“Git yir ass in here!” the wraith snarled from the other side of the door. Swallowing my fear as well as
trying to forget what I just ate so I wouldn't puke, I opened the door and entered the room.
As soon as I was in the room, Otis shut the door and locked it. Timidly, I offered him the plate of food.
“Mama had me bring it for you,” I explained, trying to meet his burning eyes steadily. Otis looked down at
the plate, a look of disgust on his face.
“I don't need it,” he growled, grabbing the plate from me and setting it on a dresser. His focus returned to
me, examining me.
“You ate that?” he asked, watching me carefully.
“Yes,” I answered, meeting his gaze. Everything within me was screaming at me to puke, then run away.
That the man in front of me was wildly insane. An odd gleam flickered through his eyes as he nodded and
backed away.
“Ya c'n sleep here,” he stated, gesturing to a heap of old clothes beside the bed. The clothes were caked in
blood and looked like they had been there for years. Disgust filled me at the sight of them as well as the
fact that I was being treated as nothing more than a pet.
“Thank you,” I said, trying to sound as grateful as I could. Otis waved me off before going into the
curtained off section of his room. Not being invited to do anything else, I decided to make myself
comfortable in my makeshift nest. It reeked to high heaven making my already unsteady stomach lurch.
Knowing it would be suicide to puke, I took several deep breaths to stop it from happening. Unfortunately
that was a horrible idea considering where I was sitting.
My stomach lurched violently as I almost threw up. A bit of vomit even came into my mouth. Making a
disgusted face, I forced myself to swallow the bitter substance. My stomach still heaving, I breathed
through my mouth and laid down in the dirty clothing. Despite everything that had happened as well as
where I currently was, I felt my eyelids becoming heavy as I started to drift off.

Preparations
Author's Note: This takes place a couple months before the fateful Halloween night in the movie. So this
chapter is going to involve the Cheerleaders they captured and tortured until the group showed up.

Chapter Three: Preparations

I was awoken by being yanked up by my arm. Groggily, I opened my eyes; fighting to keep my feet as I was
shoved roughly. Still half asleep, I stumbled where Otis was shoving me as quickly as I could. “We're
gonna have guests soon,” he snarled, tossing me a length of rope. Snapping wide awake at the statement, I
fumbled to catch the heavy rope.“Take thet and these rolls of duct tape down ta R.J. He's a big guy
wearin' a bear skin,” he ordered, his back turned toward me.
“O-okay,” I responded, fumbling with the rope as I opened the door. Shutting it behind me, I jogged down
the hall and down the stairs. As I reached the first floor, Baby scrambled past holding her own pile of
rope. Catching sight of me, the blond stopped and smiled at me. “Folla me!” she chirped, before scampering
off. I followed close behind her, noticing that Mama was busy preparing a dinner for our soon-to-be
victims. I shuddered at the idea that I would soon be participating in the torture of other people.
Baby led me out a side door in the kitchen, leading me to a small side yard that was filled with rusting
cars. My eyes went wide at the sheer number of cars in the overgrown field. Were they all from previous
victims? Movement out of the corner of my eye snapped me out of my thoughts and I turned to see a
huge, thickly muscled man coming towards us from a decrepit building that served as a sort of garage.
Donned on his head and hanging down his back was a large bearskin that looked rotted with age. He
stopped in front of Baby, a sneer on his bearded face as his almost black eyes flicked to me.
The sheer hatred in his eyes made my heart stop in my chest and I froze in place. “What t'hell is she doin'
out?” he snarled, his huge hands closing into fists. Fighting the urge to back away, I stood my ground;
hoping none of them noticed the fear in my eyes.
“Easy R.J. She was sent out by Otis,” Baby soothed, giving him a pointed look. At the mention of Otis' name,
the huge man seemed to shrink in fear. His face went deathly pale and all the strength seemed to leave
his body. His dark eyes flicked around nervously, as if he was afraid Otis was lurking around.
“I'm sorry. I didn't know,” he stammered, backing away from me.
“It's okay R.J. Otis is in his room righ' now. Jest try to remember what I told ya,” she chirped, patting his
well muscled arm. Then she handed him her rope and went back into the house. This left R.J. And I
staring at each other, an awkward silence stretching between us. Cautiously I walked towards him,
placing the length of rope in his arms. Once he had the rope he turned and walked away at a fast pace.
I didn't waste time watching him, turning and running back into the house. I had taken a lot longer than
I should have. It was only a matter of time before Otis came to look for me and I didn't want to be
outside when he found me. I had a strong suspicion that if I was found to still be outside it would be
mistaken for an attempt at escape. I shuddered at what would happen to me if that happened as I skidded
into the kitchen. Mama was taken aback by my sudden entrance, her brow knitting as she saw the bald
panic in my eyes.
I jumped went I felt a hand on my arm, turning to see Mama Firefly looking at me with concern. More
panic flooded my system as I realized she had seen me without my calm mask. Swallowing my extreme
fear, I tried to fix a smile onto my face. Mama's brow only knitted more, her pink nailed hand tightening
on my arm. “What made ya panic so?” she asked, watching me closely.
“I just.. I was out there so long. I didn't want you to think that I.. ,” I paused there, slapping a hand over
my mouth in horror. Why had I been honest?! Mama was bound to react badly. More panic dumped into my
veins and I found myself unable to look at her.
A gentle hand cupped my face, turning me to face her. “If'n we thought ya were gonna run we wouldn't
have ya helpin' us,” she stated, locking her blue eyes with my hazel ones. I stared at her, trying hard to
not let my shock show on my face. Why were they putting so much trust into me already? Was it because
I showed no signs of fighting them or meaning any harm? Or was it because Otis had let me leave twice?
“Ya best go back upstairs. Otis'll be gettin' impatient,” Mama urged, breaking into my thoughts.
“Oh, fuck. Right! Shit!” I exclaimed before dashing off and up the stairs. I skidded to a stop, propping myself
on the frame of the door. Panting harshly, I held my side while I tried to catch my breath. The stitch in
my side dug under my ribs like a knife every time I inhaled. While I was trying to compose myself the
door suddenly swung open, revealing a very angry murderer. Without a word he grabbed my arm in a
bruising grasp, pulling me into the room.
“What the hell took s'long,” he hissed, throwing me across the room and slamming the door shut. His blue
eyes flashed dangerously, the light from outside shining in his white hair.
“I had a bit of a run in with R.J. I don't think anyone told him about me,” I answered as steadily as I could
manage, looking around the room for the first time since I had been there. There wasn't much furniture,
just a bed, chair and dresser. The walls of the room were painted white but were covered in odd artwork.
“What did he do?” came a dangerous growl, dragging me back to reality.
“Nothing! He just asked why I was wandering around free. Baby gave him the quick version,” I responded
quickly, noticing him resting his hand on the handle of his hunting knife. The wraith's eyes narrowed
before he threw his door open and stormed out. I stood in the middle of the room, a bit in shock and
unsure if I should move. Otis hadn't given me permission to go anywhere so I decided to stay in the room.
Suddenly I saw Baby's blond head peak around the frame of the door. “What's got Otis' panties in a bunch?”
she asked, standing in the doorway but not crossing the threshold.
“Er I told him about what happened with R.J.,” I answered, getting a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach
when Baby's blue eyes widened with fear.
“Shit!” she exclaimed before sprinting off towards the stairs. Now I was alarmed. Not caring if I would get
in trouble, I ran after Baby. If Baby was alarmed that could only mean that Otis was going to do
something rash.
When we go to the side door in the kitchen Mama was standing in the doorway, her hands clutched to
her chest. “What the hell were ya thinkin'?! I don't care if no one told ya she was here! She's mine ya
hear! I'll decide what's done with her!” came a harsh yell from outside. Mama whipped around, looking at
Baby and I with wide, frightened eyes.
Baby unleashed a string of swear word before she sprinted outside. I went to the door, taking in the scene
before me. Otis and R.J. seemed to almost be in a wild west type stand off, each standing a few feet from
each other and not taking their eyes off the other. R.J. had a long, bleeding cut along his left cheek and
Otis looked more than ready to lunge at him. Baby ran towards the pair, grabbing a hold of one of Otis'
arms. I couldn't hear what was being said but I could only assume that Baby was trying to talk Otis out of
attacking R.J. anymore. Otis shoved her away hard, making her fall to the ground.
It was then that I did something extremely stupid, I ran outside. I grabbed a hold of the arm Baby had
just been forced to let go of and held fast. “Otis stop! I swear he didn't do anything to me!” I exclaimed,
looking up at his tense face. The furious man whirled to look at me, his icy eyes burning into mine.
“What are ya doin' out here,” he spat, ripping his arm from my grip. Fear filled my veins with ice as he
turned to face me, knife still clenched in his right hand.
“I just wanted to help. He really did nothing wrong. All he did was ask what I was doing here,” I replied,
my heart beating in my chest.
“When I want yer help I'll ask fer it!” he snarled before slapping my cheek, hard.
Tears sprung to my eyes from the sharp pain but I didn't let them fall. My head had moved to the side
slightly from the force of the blow but I quickly turned it back to face him. I kept my eyes fixed with
Otis' until he snorted in disgust and stalked back into the house. Fighting to keep myself from shaking, I
turned to R.J. who was backing away warily. “You'll need a few bandages for that cut,” I remarked before
heading back inside. I could feel Baby watching me as I went into the house but I ignored her.
Mama grabbed my arm as soon as I came inside, her hazel eyes flicking to the red hand mark on my face.
“That was awful brave of ya,” she whispered.
“I had to. I couldn't let him kill R.J. over something silly like that. Do you have any band-aids?” I replied,
giving a small, fake smile.
“Ya best let me tend ta R.J. Otis will be waitin' fer ya upstairs,” she replied, beginning to rummage in one
of the cupboards.
I felt the strength run out of my body at Mama Firefly's words. Everything inside of me railed against
the idea of going upstairs. Otis had been absolutely livid when he had stormed back into the house and I
had no desire to be alone with him. Still, if I didn't go back up it would just dig the already deep hole
deeper. Gathering my courage, I headed out of the kitchen, through the dining room, turned left and
went up the stairs.
I wandered down the long, dimly lit hallway, keeping my eyes focused on the carpet. I stopped in front of
Otis' door, staring at the portal with fear. As much as I didn't want to, I reached forward with a shaky
hand, knocking softly on the door. The only response I got was a string of harsh swearing followed by
something hitting the door. A small part of the door bulged outward as the point of a very familiar
hunting knife protruded slightly through the door. My hazel eye wide with fear, I backed away from the
door; watching as the point wriggled up and down while Otis tried to work the blade free of the wood on
the other side. Finally it came free with a loud wrenching noise.
Deciding to not knock again, I reluctantly sat beside the door with my back to the wall. I wasn't about to
open the door when just a knock had gotten such a violent reaction. While I was waiting for Otis to open
the door Baby came skipping upstairs with a smile on her face. Her brown eyes flicked to me, her grin
widening. She sat down next to me, her too sweet perfume invading my nostrils. “Well look at yew! Bein'
all brave and standin' up to Otis. And fer one of us no less!” she chirped, amiably hitting my arm.
Rubbing my now sore arm, I gave the bubbly woman a small smile. “So, when's the company going to be
here?” I asked.
“R.J.'s out settin' up the trap. Its only a matter of time now,” she responded, leaning back against the wall
and smiling. I returned her smile while on the inside I was screaming. The poor people had no idea what
was in store for them. Still, some deep, dark part of me was grateful for the appearance of the would be
victims. It would give me a better idea for the time frame I had before the fateful Halloween night. If
these were just the Cheerleaders I probably had weeks if not months of time left. I tried not to think
about the atrocities these poor people would be put through in that amount of time.
A gentle nudge broke me out of my thoughts and I turned to see Baby looking at me with her head cocked
to the side. “Why're ya waitin' out here?” she asked.
“Erm, well I knocked but Otis threw a knife at the door. So I decided it would be best to wait out here
until further notice,” I replied, fiddling with the hem of my black shirt.
“Ah, yeah. He's prob'ly still mad about R.J. Don't worry, he'll stick his head out fer ya soon,” Baby
responded, patting my black jeans covered leg. Then she got to her feet, turned and smiled at me.
“Now if ya'll excuse me, I gotta go prepare for our guests!” she chirped before skipping into her room and
shutting the door.
Once again alone in the semi-dark hallway, I tried to keep my focus on the carpet in front of me. Small
noises from a T.V. came from the door that sat to my left a few feet down the hall from Otis'. With a
start I noticed that the area in front of me had gotten much darker and I looked up, half expecting Otis'
glowering face. Instead I looked up to see the leering bearded face of 'Grandpa'. His upper lip was curled
in a sneer and his nostrils were flared, as if he was taking in my scent.
Springing to me my feet, I offered a polite smile although the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
Something about the way his eyes roved over my body made me uneasy. His brow eyes sparkled under his
bushy white eyebrows as he stalked toward me. Already against the wall, I had no where to go to escape
him as he reached a grizzled hand towards my face. My skin crawled as his rough nailed hand brushed
against my cheek. “So soft. Yer too good fer Otis! Why can't this family give me a pet once and a while,” he
snarled, backhanding the other cheek that Otis hadn't hit.
My head turned to the side with the force of the blow and I tasted blood as my lip split. Turning my head
back to face the old man, I found myself being pressed to the wall. He had my arms pinned against the
wall in a crushing grip. His stubble and spit covered mouth pressed against mine as he tried to force his
slimy tongue between my lips. I clamped my mouth tightly shut, fighting the urge to vomit as his sour
breath was blown into my mouth. That was when I noticed his arousal pressing into my leg and I nearly
fainted.
Too busy trying to keep my wits about me, I didn't register the door to my right flying open. Just as my
vision began to gray and his tongue began to force its way between my teeth, the old pervert was
suddenly ripped away from me. I slid down the wall, making odd retching noises while wiping my mouth
and trying to get my vision to clear. As the haze lifted I saw Otis holding 'Grandpa' against the wall with
his forearm against the old man's neck. The old man was a few feet above the ground, making gargling
noises while clawing at Otis' arm. Otis' left arm rested in the crook of the pervert's neck while his right
hand gripped the handle of his hunting knife. “Wh' th' fu',” the old perv gargled, kicking out at Otis who
was angled just far enough away to not get hit.
“I could ask ya t'same thing old man,” Otis hissed, glaring at 'Grandpa'.
“Sh's whore 'nyway. Why can' I 'ave lil fu',” he struggled to gasp out around Otis' grip on his voice box.
“Now ya listen here ya ol' bitch, this here sow is mine. I git t'decide what happens t'her as well as when it
does. No one and I mean no one else gits t'touch her 'cept me. Do I make myself clear,” the enraged wraith
snarled, tightening his grip on the wattled throat.
'Grandpa's' face had begun to turn an alarming shade of deep red as he thrashed and strangled. A small bit
of whit foam was at the corners of his mouth as his face turned purple and his eyes rolled up in his head.
Otis made a noise of disgust before simply dropping the old man. 'Grandpa' took in a huge, coughing breath,
clutching at his brightly bruised throat while glaring at Otis. Otis shot the geriatric a withering glare
before grabbing my arm in a bruising grip, yanking me into his room.
He slammed the door shut, locking it and whirling to glare at me. His blue eyes were hard and flashed
angrily as he slid his hunting knife back into its holder. His hands opening and closing, the murderer
stalked towards me. He stopped inches from my, his icy eyes glaring at me intensely. “Why did ya let him
kiss ya?” he growled softly, his voice full of danger.
“I-I it wasn't like that!” I blurted.
“Ya have ten seconds,” he growled, eyes narrowing.
“I didn't want to get killed for daring to hurt one of the family!” came out of my mouth before I could
stop it. I could literally feel the color drain from my face as I realized just what I said.
Otis froze, his hands clenching and his jaw tightening. “Has everything ya've been doin' jest been fer the
fear of being killed?” he hissed quietly.
“No. I want to learn from you Otis. I want to make artwork like yours. I'm an outsider and if I make a
wrong move I'm as good as dead. I can't learn if I'm dead now can I,” I found my self saying, lying far
more smoothly than I ever have.
The monster's eyes seemed to soften for a split second before hardening again. It happened so quick I
almost brushed it off as imagination. “Well I give ya permission to at least stand up fer yerself. I ain't
got time to be savin' yer worthless ass all the time,” he growled, relaxing imperceptibly.
“Thank you,” I whispered, awe slipping into my voice. I was gaining so much trust so fast, I had to be doing
something right.
“Now git yer ass in the art room. Our guests will be here any minute and I have to go down and help
Baby,” he snarled, breaking the small moment like a soap bubble.
My stomach dropped through the floor as I filled with nausea. All too soon I would have to participate
in the torture of several young girls and pretend to enjoy it. Trying to keep a neutral look on my face, I
walked into the curtained off room I had been in yesterday. To my surprise the grizzly statue we had
worked on had been removed. My eyes went to the curtained off section of the left wall, wondering if
that was the art room or if the room I currently stood in was. Hearing the door open and shut in the
other room, I gathered my courage; going through the curtain and into the dimly lit room.
It was filled with grizzly instruments of torture and dismemberment. Several weird statues were
scattered throughout the room, in various states of decay. The smell inside the small room was
powerfully rotten, making me gag in disgust. It smelled of rotting blood and flesh. Still the presence of
the 'artwork' told me this was the room I was meant to wait in. Swallowing my fear as well as my rising
nausea, I turned to face the curtained entrance and waited.

Hospitality
Warning!! : Contains torture of mind and body. Rape of mind and body. Murder and abuse. Minor2. More
Graphic parts marked with **

Author's Note: Yeah, these next chapters are gonna be hard to write. I'm going to have to put myself into
a very scary place for this story. For the record, writing this family in character is extremely hard on
me. Just because I write certain scenes doesn't mean I'm comfortable with them.

Chapter Four: Hospitality

A flurry of screaming, crying and begging startled me out of my thoughts. There was no clock in the
room I was in so it seemed like time was stretching into eternity. Purely from boredom, I had begun to
ponder my situation. Here I was, in a world that wasn't supposed to exist, trying to save a clan of
murderers from a well-deserved fate. I was actually going to participate in murder and torture,
something I would have never thought myself capable of. I probably wasn't going to be the same person
after everything was said and done. It was then that I heard our poor victims being dragged upstairs.
The door to the bedroom slammed into the wall loudly as I heard two screaming women enter. “Shut up!
Shut the fuck up!” Otis roared, slamming the door shut. The dumb females kept screaming their lungs out
until I heard a loud slam and a choking noise.
“I said shut the fuck up!” Otis screamed, silence finally following his yell. Small sobs began to come from
the room and I heard his boots stomping to the other side of the room. He stopped in front of the
curtained off section, I could dimly see him through the curtains that blocked off where I was. I only
saw his silhouette for a moment before he stomped back toward where I assumed the victims were.
Whimpered pleas followed as it sounded like someone was being half dragged to the room.
“Stop yer fuckin' whinin'! All yer doin' is makin' noise,” the beast snarled before shoving someone into the
room.
From what I could see through the semi-transparent, black cloth, the person was female, was blonde and
was wearing some sort of skirt. Tensing, I watched the abnormally pale male closely as he stalked into
the room. I had to be on the look out for any subtle ques he gave that he wanted me to come out. As I
watched, he prowled around the bound girl slowly; something glinting in his hand. “Oh, I know jest what
ta do with you,” he snarled, turning his gaze to where I stood. Gathering all of my courage, I stepped into
the dimly lit room.
Her youth struck me like a sock in the stomach. She could be no more than sixteen! From the looks of her
she was a cheerleader. Her frightened blue eyes moved to me as I stepped out, filling with unwarranted
hope. As much as I wanted to, it would mean my life to help her. Trying not to shake, I walked towards
Otis; stopping a few feet in front of him. “Git her undressed,” he snarled, tossing me his hunting knife.
Catching the knife by the hilt by some miracle, I gazed down at the blade in wonder. He was trusting me
to handle a knife, not just any knife but his knife. The reality of what was happening crashed into me,
almost making me sway. I had to use this knife to undress an underage girl who was more than likely
going to get raped. Swallowing the thick bile that rose into the back of my throat, I walked towards the
girl who was now looking at me with horror. I wished I could tell her that I didn't want to do this, that I
had to do this or I would die. Yet those excuses sounded hollow and weak. Was saving this family worth
what it would do to me? Was it worth going against my very moral code?
Holding the hilt of the knife tightly, I looked into the pleading blue eyes of this poor child. This child
who had barely begun to live. This child who was going to be subjected to many horrors, many by my hand.
A wrenching illness filled my gut as the hand holding the knife began to shake. “Please, just let me go,”
the teen whimpered, tears rolling down her cheeks.
My heart lurched painfully in my chest and I had to bite my lip to prevent a sob from escaping. My very
life hung in the balance if I didn't do this! Otis' life! His family's lives! Were they worth going through
this to save? Fighting the coming tears, I began to slit the white shirt up the front; cutting through the
brightly colored, embroidered letter of her school. She gasped in horror, trying to back away but only
falling backward onto the floor thanks to her tied legs. She looked up at me with blind terror as well as
betrayal.
Trying to shove my conscious thought elsewhere, I slit the short sleeves of the shirt; pulling the ruined
material away from her. Ignoring her desperate pleas, I slid the point of the cruelly sharp blade under
the white material of her bra and slit upwards. Her undeveloped breasts were exposed to my gaze and I
had to fight not to turn away out of sheer disgust. If I did that, it would be a death sentence for me for
sure. Swallowing the bitter bile that rose in my throat, I moved towards her skirt; holding the wickedly
sharp knife in a shaky hand.
Her cries of please and don't do this fell on mostly deaf ears as I slipped the point of the knife under the
hem of her brightly colored cheerleader skirt. With a deft flick of my wrist, I sliced through the tough
elastic of the waistband and slit it down the front. With shaky hands, and fighting the urge to vomit, I
opened the ruined skirt to reveal a pair of floral printed white panties. The poor child had begun to shake
and sob uncontrollably, probably realizing just what was going to happen. Whispering a silent sorry to her
in my head, I slid the knife under the hem of her panties and cut off the last vestige of her clothing.
While I had been occupied with this Otis must have snuck off to grab the other girl as I heard screamed
protests coming from the other room towards us. Turning my head, I saw the murderer dragging the
naked female companion of the one on the floor into the room. His ice blue eyes were glittering
maliciously as he shoved her towards us. As quickly as I could, I skittered out of the way of the falling
female and let her land on her sobbing friend. “Both of ya shut th'fuck up!” the wraith snarled hatefully,
stalking over to the prone pair and yanking the one on top up by the rope binding her arms.
The female stupidly let out a scream, earning her a hard slap from the enraged male that nearly snapped
her neck from the force of it. “I said shut th'fuck up!” he roared, motioning towards me with an opening
and closing hand. Realizing he wanted his knife back, I immediately placed the hilt in his hand and
watched silently as he held the blade against the sobbing female's throat. The other girl on the floor
snuffled and hiccuped as she tried in vain to wriggle out of the tight ropes wound around her wrists and
ankles.
“Please, please don't do this,” the shaking teen he held whimpered, tears and snot flowing freely down her
pale face. The only caused the wraith to press the sharp implement against her even harder as his other
hand came up to wrap around her neck.
“Are ya deaf or jest stupid! I could kill ya right now! All it would take is one lil' move and yer chokin' on
yer own blood,” he rasped, his faded eyes glittering with rage the blade cut into her and blood began to
trickle down his victim's porcelain skin.
Mewling slightly, the brunette shut up as her friend sobbed quietly on the floor. “There now, much better.
Now I want ya t'do a lil' somethin' fer all th'hospitality ma fam'ly has shown ya,” the terror rasped, a
sadistic tone to his voice as he used the hand holding her neck to shove her towards the blonde on the
ground; removing the knife as he did so. This allowed her to fall on the other teen for the second time,
causing an all new flurry of sobbing and begging. Ignoring this, Otis knotted a fist in her curly, brown hair
and pulled her head back so he could whisper in her ear.
“I want you and yer friend there t'have sex fer us,” he snarled, earning a flurry of fresh pleas. Sure
enough, out came the knife again; resting on blondie's throat instead this time.
**As I watched in horrified fascination, the pair slowly came to accept their fate and descended into
quiet crying as their lips met. “There ya go! See how much nicer things c'n go when ya jest cooperate?” the
psychopath cooed before his steel blue eyes moved up to land on me. In one look I knew he wanted me by
his side and I rushed to do just that. As soon as I got close, the taller male was slowly getting to his feet;
his glittering eyes watching the crying, kissing pair intently.
“Move to her breasts,” he barked out as his arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me to his side
roughly. Whimpering and murmuring apologies to the blonde, the brunette broke the kiss to move to her
friend's small, still developing breasts; her lipstick smeared lips closing around a pink nipple.
As the sound of sucking and soft sobs filled the room, I felt the beast's hand move under my stolen, dirty
t-shirt to fondle my breast. It was all I could do to fight the urge to vomit or look away from the
disturbing scene, knowing that if I did that I would be pretty much signing my own death warrant.
“Hurry th'fuck up and git t'her pussy!” hissed the wraith to my left, his callused thumb brushing my
sensitive nub as the brunette slowly, reluctantly crawled down her friend. She whispered another
apology to the sobbing blonde before placing her mouth on the shaven slit.
“Don't be shy, git in there,” Otis snarled, unbuttoning my pants and slipping them slowly down my hips as
the young woman complied.
Soon desperate tears were interlaced with reluctant, strained moans that sounded torn from the blonde's
throat as the teen between her legs ate her out in earnest. While this was happening, I heard the sound
of jeans hitting the floor just before I was pulled in front of the bony male. One hand pressing on my
upper back bent me forward as his free hand roamed my right hip almost affectionately. Then he was
positioning himself at my dry entrance, making an angry sound when he didn't find me as turned on as he
was. Just hearing that sent a thrill of terror through me as he leaned forward, his sour breath hitting
behind my right ear. With a low growl, the thin, white haired male entered me slowly; drawing a
whimper from me as my womanhood began to burn from the dry entry.
Biting my lips to keep in my cries of pain, I simply placed my hands on my upper thighs as I tried to relax
as much as I could to make it less painful. Biting the scruff of my neck, the killer behind me began to move
inside me; one of his hands moving under my shirt to cup one of my dangling breasts. Rough fingers
tweaked and played with one of my nipples, drawing a slight moan from me against my will. While this
was going on, the blonde's own cries of pleasure were becoming louder and more distressed. Then the teen
was crying out as her brown haired friend brought her to a forced orgasm. “Sit on her face,” snarled Otis,
his hips snapping into mine as his manhood practically tore into me.
The teen between the blonde's legs gave the ghoul a hate filled look before slowly getting up and
removing her underwear. “And you, if ya don't eat her out like she did you; yer friend'll be wearin' a
much wider smile,” he rasped, still thrusting as I felt him reach for something. Knowing he was
brandishing his knife, I kept my focus on the coerced pair; feeling nausea begin to rise within me as
arousal began to percolate in my lower body due to his ministrations. The hand that wasn't playing with
my breast went to my junction, the fingers fumbling until they found my clit; rubbing roughly as he
leaned forward again. His hips moved in small circles, drawing reluctant pleasure from me as I watched
the brunette lower herself on her friend's face.
“There ya go ya lil whore,” Otis rasped, groaning as he began to move faster.
To my horror, his hands and skillful movements inside me were beginning to draw an orgasm from me.
Panting gruffly, I didn't dare close my eyes or even fight the intense sensations filling me. With the
murderer ensconced so deeply within me, he would be easily be able to tell. Soon the bound blonde on the
floor was eating out her friend like the monster ordered, drawing reluctant moans from the cheerleader
perched precariously over her mouth. Mascara ran down both their cheeks freely as the pair locked eyes,
seeming to communicate silently as the chocolate haired teen began to move her hips subconsciously.
Gasping as the tightening coil within me pulsed hard, it was all I could do not to collapse as my orgasm
began to roll through me in thick, electric waves. “Nnn, fuck,” snarled a raspy voice in my ear, soon
followed by the feeling of a burning hot liquid filling me in thick ropes. At the same time, the brunette
let out a cry of her own as she seemingly reached her own peak. Before I could even begin to gather my
wits, Otis was pulling out of me and pulling up his pants before circling to the panting, crying pair. The
brown haired girl rolled off the teen below her before whispering apologies over and over. Not paying
any mind to this, the wraith merely grabbed the unbound teen by her hair and drug her into the 'Art
Room.'**
“No, no please! We did as you asked!” the completely helpless girl on the floor cried, her blue eyes going to
me as the pair disappeared.
Avoiding her glance, I pulled my borrowed jeans up with a disgusted grimace. I could feel blood and
semen dripping down my inner thighs as well as smell sex in the air. All at once my stomach lurched and
I very nearly lost it. Covering my mouth with a shaky hand, I took deep breaths as I fought against the
tears slowly beginning to clog my throat. I couldn't even apologize to the poor child glaring at me with
hatred and gut churning betrayal. “You fucking bitch! Help us! If you have any soul, help us!” she screamed,
making me flinch from the sheer venom of her words. Yet I couldn't just stand there and take it, not with
Otis listening in the next room.
Apologizing to the sixteen year old in my head, I kicked her in the side as hard as I could with a loud
snarl. “Shut up you lil slut!” I hissed with as much aggression as I could muster, feeling guilt twist a knife
in my chest when she let out a cry of pain. The sound of a rough chuckle followed by the sound of a metal
table being rolled out soon followed my action, drawing my attention to Otis. The brunette was now
bound to a metal autopsy table, a gag in her mouth and several instruments of torture sitting in a neat,
organized line by her right side. She was strapped to the stainless steel platform by bungee cords and her
earthy eyes bugged out of her skull as she struggled against the binds.
“Did I hear someone disrespectin' mah girl?” the monster rolling out the bed cooed in a deceptively gentle
tone as he released what he was pushing to approach the sniveling child on the floor.
The blond had curled up on her left side and whimpered softly as she sobbed, not daring to look up at
either of us as Otis stalked up to her slowly. As I watched him bend down to glower in her face, I couldn't
help but think about what he had just said. He had called me his girl but that could honestly mean
anything to this beast. I couldn't allow my guard to drop just because of a declaration of possession. In all
honesty, the murderer that was currently cutting into the flaxen haired teen's chest with a cruel smile
on his face was probably utterly incapable of tender feelings as I knew them. “Go have some fun with
th'one on the table. I have a lesson to teach this lil slut,” the psychopath growled, his steel blue eyes
glittering with a glee that made my blood run cold.
Honestly beginning to question my motivations to save him and his family, I moved to the raised,
stainless steel table the other teen was strapped to. Her wide, almost puppy like eyes followed me as
tears began to flow freely down her pale cheeks. Tearing my gaze away from hers, I looked down at the
horrifying, rusted, blood covered instruments. It looked like Otis had no care for the sterility of his
tools, something that made a terrifying sense when I stopped to think about it. Why clean them when the
people they were being used on wouldn't live long after? Picking up a sharp, jagged looking blade, I
reluctantly looked down at my still very alive victim. This was going to be a lot harder than sewing two
dead beings together or cutting off someone's clothes. This would be all out torture, an act I would have
to pretend to enjoy.
Licking my dry lips, I focused my hazel gaze on the shuddering, white expanse of her skin. Ignoring the
muffled sobs pouring past the strip of fabric that had been shoved into her mouth, I took a deep breath
and made my first, shallow cut; flinching at the blood ad muffled sounds of pain. “No, no, no! Ya gotta do it
with feelin'!” scolding Otis from right behind me, very nearly making me scream as I jumped to the ceiling.
Doing my best to keep my grip on the implement in my hand, I craned my dark haired head to look at the
monster looming at my back. The look he was giving me almost made my blood freeze in my veins.
His sky blue eyes were filled with impatience and just a hint of suspicion as one of his hands came around
me to to join mine around the handle of the knife. Then he was leaning close enough that his lips brushed
my ear, the smell of his breath very nearly making me loose my tenuous control over my stomach. “Yer
actin' an awful lot like yer not enjoyin' this. I thought ya were here t'learn,” husked his voice, holding
just a hint of anger. His words made my skin go cold and it was all I could do not to faint right then and
there, not a very good idea at the moment.
“This is my first time doing any of this. I never thought it would be like this,” I found myself replying,
wanting to slap myself for the way that came out. It almost sounded like a complaint and, sure enough,
the ghoul behind me went stiff at my words.
“Jest what th'hell were ya expectin' when ya became a serial killer? Puppy dogs and rainbows? Did ya
expect yer victims to come pre-dead?” he snared in a disparaging tone, his hand guiding mine to rest the
cruel looking back against the teen's now heaving abdomen.
“Yer first mistake is seein' these things before you as anything but tools to use. They aren't fucking worth
feelin' any guilt fer,” rasped his voice, still sound impatient as he forced me to begin tracing intricate
lines in her skin with the blade.
Blood flowed freely, soon staining her marble skin crimson as her panic and pain grew. The bound teen
was now struggling in earnest, doing her best to scream past the gag in her mouth while her friend
sobbed on her spot on the floor. I didn't even dare look that way, both because I was afraid to see what
the killer behind me had done to her let alone what he would do to me if I shifted my focus. Otis was not
known to be patient so it would behoove me to pay full attention to this twisted lesson on how to
properly torture a victim. “All that leavin' her mouth is jest noise. Ignore it fer th'work th'knife is doin'
on her. Let th'blade speak through ya. Leave yer own unique mark on this whore's hide,” rasped the voice
by my left ear, his hand slowly leaving mine as I continued making intricate cuts.
Letting the screams, sobs and blood fade into the background, I focused on what Otis had told me as well
as the fact I was doing this to save my own life at this point. If I showed any more hesitation, it was
clear I was done for. As terrible as it sounds, his horrifying advice actually began to help; turning the
child before me into some sort of twisted canvas I was painting on. In time, it was like I wasn't even
hurting another living being at all; I was so focused in finishing the 'art' I was creating. I only snapped
back into reality when I made the last cut and I looked up to see what I had done to this child.
Thankfully she had passed out at one point but that didn't stop the nausea from flooding my body in an
icy rush. Her skin was littered with intricate, flowing markings that almost looked like calligraphy. It
would have looked beautiful if not for the fact it had been cut into a teenage girl's flesh. My stomach
began to lurch hard, cause odd sounding hiccups to burble out of me as I fought to keep my gorge down.
The fact that Otis was watching me closely on exacerbated the problem, let alone the thick smell of blood
filling the room. Suddenly I was running, dismayed to find the bedroom door locked.
Unable to keep it together any longer, I simply collapsed to my knees as I began to make meaty, gagging
noises. The wraith was on me in seconds, the rage on his face fading for disgusted impatience. “Fuckin'
newbies,” he chided, before flinging a bucket in front of me. I barely had enough time to grab it before I
was vomiting hard, tears flowing down my cheeks as what little I had in my stomach left quite painfully.
Once that was over, I wiped the sweat from my clammy forehead before making a strange hacking noise
and spitting into the receptacle before me.
“Have you never killed s'much as a cat b'fore now?” he growled, sounding impatient as I kept trying to
clear the taste of vomit from the back of my throat.
“No and it doesn't help that I'm squeamish as shit,” I found myself confessing, knowing it would do no good
to lie about it now. The man behind me only made a noise before storming back into the room where the
still conscious and crying blonde was.
Wishing I could at least leave to get a glass of water, I gingerly got to my feet and wandered over to my
makeshift nest of stolen, bloody shirts, pants and underwear. Even the jeans and black shirt I wore were
caked in filth, making me feel incredibly grimy on top of the things I had just done. Before today, I would
have never thought myself capable of such a heinous act; let alone orgasming while watching a rape.
Feeling my stomach lurch once more due to where my thoughts were heading, I forced the offending
memories away. It wasn't long after that Otis came back with both women slung over his shoulders. The
golden haired teen was still sobbing softly while the brown haired teen lolled like bag of potatoes. Not
even looking my way, the violent ghoul unlocked his door and left; slamming it behind him.
Despite the fact he had left the entry unlocked, I opted to stay where I was. As sickening as the taste of
bile was in the back of my throat, it wasn't worth risking my neck to leave to get a simple drink. Huffing a
sigh, I simply curled up on the pile of clothing to wait for him to come back; using the cleanest shirt I
could find as a pillow. Thankfully I didn't have to wait long until I heard the doorknob jiggle and I sat up,
blinking when I saw Otis come in with a glass of water as well as a box of crackers. The glare on his
unnaturally white face told me Mama had suggested the crackers and the way he tossed them at me only
confirmed my suspicion. It was more the act of a person being coerced into something rather than
someone who was doing something out of simple compassion.
Then he was closing the distance to hand me the glass of water, a sneer on his bearded face as his blue
eyes glowered down at me. “Thanks,” I whispered, taking the glass and downing the water in one gulp. The
cold liquid soothed the slight burn left over from the stomach acid as well as washed away the remnants
of the terrible taste, helping settle my stomach significantly. When I looked back up; I found the almost
albino male crouching in front of me, his stubble dusted lips pierced.
“Jest why th'Hell did ya think it would be a good idea t'become a killer when ya git sick at th'sight of
blood?” he hissed, suspicion shining in his too blue eyes as he glared down at me.
Fear began to squeeze my heart as I saw his gaze become contemplative, as if he was going over all the
actions I had done in the past few days. “I… I… I'm just so sick of human beings in general. They're all
so blind to what's going on around them, to how fucked the world really is. They just go on their
meaningless little lives, ignoring all the shit everything is covered in,” came pouring out of my mouth
before I could stop it, echoing feelings I had long buried since I was a teen.
My words made Otis blink, a brief flash of something strange going through his blue eyes before he
straightened. “Go git yerself somethin' t'eat when ya think ya c'n manage it,” he ordered before
disappearing back into the adjacent room. This left me alone with my thoughts as well as memories of
what my hands had done. Shoving away the box of crackers with a groan, I did my best to bury these
thoughts. One thing he was right about, I couldn't continue to see these victims as people. If I did, I would
surely go crazy. Heaving a sigh, I simply curled up and tried to get some sleep; not looking forward to the
nightmares that would surely come.
Down Into Darkness
WARNING!!: Gore. Mental Torture. Desecration of Dead Bodies. Extreme Dismemberment Post Death. More
extreme bits marked with **

Author's Note: This fic was not easy to pick back up again but I promise it will be finished. I hope you guys
are enjoying it so far, as horrible as some parts are going to be. Also, sorry for the delay. I caught
Pneumonia and had to take some time to recover.

Chapter Five: Down Into Darkness

Rough shaking awoke me after what seemed like only a handful of hours, drawing a groan from my lips as
I slowly came back to awareness. “Come on ya fuckin' bitch. Ya never ate and I ain't gonna let yer ass git
sick. I ain't got time t'take care of yer useless hide,” snarled a raspy, mid-tone voice, bringing me back to
reality with a harsh snap. In seconds I was on my feet despite not being awake enough to stand and I felt
the world lurch forward almost sickly. My pale face would have had a rather unceremonious meeting
with the scratched, dirty hardwood floor if Otis hadn't steadied me with a bruising grip on my upper
right arm. Then he was dragging me behind him with an impatient look on his oddly bearded face.
As soon as the door opened, I was greeted to the sight of Baby standing off with 'Grandpa'; a frown on her
young face. Behind her was one of the cheerleaders, her face painted like baby doll’s and her clothes
matching the appearance. Even her strawberry blonde hair was done in ringlets, only adding to the
illusion the blonde killer had been going for. “Ya listen here, ya give me that lil slut o' yers t'me fer some
fun or Ah'm gonna…,” snarled the grizzled male
“Yer gonna what, Hugo?” Otis hissed in response, making the elderly killer nearly jump up to the ceiling.
After his recent assault on me, seeing the expression of all out terror on the perv's wattled face was
somewhat cathartic.
“O-otis, I er…,” he stammered before retreating into his room and slamming the door. The nearly albino
murderer stared after him for a while before turning his angry gaze to the female that was his 'sister'.
“That ol' bitch hog is beginnin' t'ferget his place. Next time he does somethin' like that, ya tell me,” he
hissed, his voice holding no room for argument before he shoved his way past the two with me in tow.
Before I knew it, we were downstairs and the wraith dragging me practically threw me into the kitchen;
accidentally making me run into Mama Firefly. The pink robe wearing blonde started at the unmeaning
shove, reaching for the knife drawer before she realized it was only me. “Sorry Mrs. Firefly,” I whispered
rapidly, putting some distance between me and the older female. Thankfully she only gave me a bright
smile before her blue gaze moved to Otis. As soon as she saw him behind me, her face lit up with joy and
her pink nailed hands flew up to her slightly chubby face.
“Otis! Wai don' yew and yer lil' friend have some breakfast?” she chirped, looking as excited as a young
child to see him downstairs.
The rail thin ghoul only rolled his ice blue eyes before grabbing my arm again and dragging me over to
the kitchen table. Instead of protesting, I simply let it happen; knowing it would be a bad idea to struggle
for my right to walk by myself. In a few short seconds, I found myself thrown into a chair; Otis sitting
next to me with a sour expression on his bearded face. Moving a lock of my ebony hair out of my face, I
decided to focus my gaze on the wood of the table. “What's yer damn name?” came an irritated sounding
growl, nearly making me have a small heart attack. Turning my head, I saw the killer glowering at me as
he waited for my answer.
“R-raven,” I stammered, my heart pounding in my chest as I met his angry orbs; not daring to look away.
He only narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips before turning his gaze back to the front.
Taking that as my cue to shut up again, I returned my own gaze to the top of the table; the awkward
silence making me feel a bit on edge. As we sat there, I found myself going over our small exchange in my
head. As far as I knew, Otis had never asked any of his previous victims their name. Was the fact he had
asked for mine a good thing? Before I could think anymore on the subject, a plate of scrambled eggs and
suspicious sausage was placed in front of the both of us. Then Mama was taking a seat across from us, her
cerulean gaze glittering as she stared at us. “Let's eat,” she declared before digging into her food.
I, on the other hand, could only eye the pile of sausages with an internal grimace. Given what I had
already been fed once before, I had a pretty good idea what meat was used to make them. Feeling my
stomach churn in protest, I took a fork in my hand and began to eat. The meat and eggs tasted good
enough but I just couldn't get over the idea that I was once again probably eating another human. By
some miracle though, I was able to finish the disturbing meal. Otis, on the other hand, refused to so much
as touch his; seemingly content to watch me. Once I was done, the violent male was grabbing me yet again
to pull me to my feet. “Thanks for breakfast,” I murmured to Mama just before I found myself being
yanked back upstairs.
“Otis ya be a lil' nicer to thet young lady ya hear!” Mama called up from the bottom of the stairs just as
we reached the top.
The wraith went stiff for a few seconds before releasing me slowly and continuing on his way to his
room. Taking the cue, I followed close behind him; rubbing the spot on my arm that he had grabbed. On our
way back, we brushed past Baby and her dazed looking, bound doll on their way to get their own food. The
dressed up teen was so cowed that she didn't even look at us on our way past, acting like a living version
of what she was costumed as. “Thanks fer earlier Otis! C'n I borrow yer new toy later t'day? I wanna go
clothes shoppin' and I thought it would be fun to have anotha gal along,” the bubbly blonde chirped, her
blue eyes fixing on her volatile 'brother'. He only sneered before giving a curt nod and continuing on his
way, me right on his heels.
Within moments we were standing in front of his door as he swung it open and ushered me inside with a
hand on the small of my back. “It seems one of our guests died from alla th'excitement last night. R.J. will
be dragging her hide up here soon. I want yew t'take charge o' this one,” he growled out as soon as the
door clicked closed, his steely eyes narrowed as his fixed me with a stern look. Just hearing that demand
made a chill of fear wash through my body and it took all I had to maintain a neutral face.
“Come in the back with me and pick somethin' out t'do,” he hissed, gesturing with his hand as he went into
the curtained off room beside the bedroom.
With how impatient I knew he was, I didn't dare hesitate. Straightening my borrowed, black shirt, I
followed behind him; my heart pounding in my ears as my thoughts raced. I had only done something like
this once before and that had been with stale, already cleaned bodies. Something told me that wouldn't be
the case for the human part of things this time. Just the thought of gutting and draining a human body
made sickening nausea fill my gullet, making me just barely able to hold down what I had eaten just
minutes before. Swallowing thickly, I looked up to see Otis waiting for me by the 'art room', an impatient
expression on his too pale face.
Gathering what inner gumption I had left, I walked into the art room to find myself surrounded by the
myriad of statues once again. Doing my best not to shudder at the grisly displays, I closed my eyes for a
few seconds to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness. When I opened them again, I found a certain
monster standing right in front of me with a sour expression on his gaunt visage. “Are ya gonna be all
fuckin' day about it?” he snapped, nearly making me jump back from him out of fear. Managing to shake my
head in response through my fog of terror, I began to walk around the room; looking for any unused
animal parts I could use for my… 'assignment'. After what seemed like an eternity, my eyes finally
landed on the body of a rather large Great Dane.
The canine's body had long since been preserved and stuffed to be in an alert laying position. Every part
of the white fur covered body looked almost alive with the exception of the missing head. For some
reason, the carcass called out to me and I found myself wheeling it out into the other room, followed
closely by the irritable murderer. As soon as we exited, R.J. was coming in; carting a dead body over his
shoulder. From the looks of her, she was no older than the others and was stark naked; none of the family
bothering to dress her corpse. “Put it on the floor. Did ya bring th'tarp?” snarled Otis, earning a nod from
the bigger, bearded man. Then he was tossing a blue roll onto the ground before taking his leave, not so
much as even looking in my direction the entire time.
“Alright. Git yer ass over here and learn somethin',” he snarled, kneeling beside the body and rolling out
the thick blue material. Then he was lifting the pale corpse and placing it onto the tarp, pulling out his
hunting knife as he motioned me to join him.
Doing my best to keep down my rising nausea by breathing slowly, I moved to kneel by his side. Seemingly
displeased with this position, the violent killer yanked me to sit in front of him before placing his knife
into my right hand. Then he was curling his own hand around the one holding the weapon, feeling like he
was about to guide every movement of my hand until I learned to do whatever it was efficiently. “The
first thing ya gotta do afore ya do anything is ya gotta prepare t'drain th'blood from th'body. We ain't
doing that yet but I wanted t'give ya a demonstration of where yer gonna be cuttin'. First yer gonna
need t'cut alla the main arteries so the blood will drain from the limbs. Next yer gonna wanna cut the
throat t'git th'rest,” rasped his mid-tone voice in my ear as he guided the knife tip along the spots he was
telling me about.
“First though, we gotta hang th'body upside down and put a large washtub under it t'catch th'blood. One
drop gets spilled and th'whole place stinks t'high heaven fer months. The tarp will help catch what th' tub
don't. Now go git th'metal tub from th'bathroom. It's across th'hall and a few doors down,” he ordered
before getting to his feet and dragging me with him.
Then he was stomping into the art room once again, leaving me in the room alone. Snapping out of my
daze, I went back into the bedroom and opened the door. Cautiously, I poked my dark haired head around
the door jam to check the hallway. To my relief, it was utterly empty; only the dim sound of 'Grandpa's'
TV filling the empty corridor. Gathering my scant courage, I skittered into the narrow passage; heading
a couple doors down from Otis' room. Opening the entry I found myself in front of, I saw a tiny, very
dirty bathroom. The tiny little cubby barely had enough room for the sink, toilet and claw-foot tub it
held, let alone anyone that came in. Clicking the light switch a couple times and getting nothing, I
resigned myself to searching the room in pitch blackness. Thankfully what I was looking for was in the
mildew covered bathtub. Grabbing the metal item, I made my back to the wraith's room.
Once inside, I headed into what I now called the 'Prep Room.' As soon as I got in, it became apparent that
the killer had been very busy while I was gone. The corpse I was going to be working on was now hanging
upside down from the ceiling, tied to a metal hoop hanging from a bare rafter via a thick rope around her
ankles. Under her dark haired head was spread the blue tarp and even though Otis wasn't in the room, I
didn't need him to tell me where to put the tub. In fact, I set my burden down directly under her head
and stepped back to wait for the ghoul to reappear. I didn't have to wait long, Otis coming out of the art
room with various instruments to bleed and gut the corpse. Just seeing the tubing and bone saws in his
arms made a cold chill of nausea rush through my body. “Gewd, ya already put th'tub in place. Start with
her arms,” he suggested, tossing me his knife.
**By some miracle, I managed to catch it by it handle; looking up at my intended project. As hard as I
tried, I couldn't see anything but the body of a teenager; a body I was going to have to desecrate. Taking
a deep breath and closing my eyes, I tried to focus on a certain part of my childhood. We lived in the
middle of nowhere and my father liked to hunt deer for sport as well as meat. He once showed me how to
dress a deer and this was really no different than that if I was honest with myself. Coming back to
reality, I forced myself to see this girl as nothing but a deer I had to dress. To my utter shock, the corpse
slowly morphed into said animal. Knowing I had no more time to lose, I got to work; breathing through
my mouth to mitigate the scent of blood thick in the air.
Hours later and I was splattered with cooling gore as the last of the blood drained from the black haired
female's neck. Tubes now decorated her legs to allow the blood in her limbs to fully drain and Otis was
currently preparing one of his bone saws. Before I knew it, he was shoving the tip of the implement into
her breastbone and hitting the handle hard; filling the room with a sickening crack as her ribs broke.
Gritting his teeth, the thin but strong wraith shoved the sharp implement upward; the sound of bone
slicing very nearly making me vomit. When he stepped back from his grisly task, he revealed he had split
open the upper torso rather neatly. “Afore we git t'the rest of it, I want ya t'remove th'heart and lungs
and place them in thet tub,” the blood coated monster ordered, pink streaking the white hair of his half
beard. Nodding to show I heard but preferring to keep my mouth shut at the moment, I stepped forward
to do as he asked.
Repeating myself that it was a deer over and over again, I ripped out the left lung with a sickening noise
that made my gorge rise. Swallowing the bile in the back of my throat with a meaty noise, I gritted my
teeth and pulled free the other lung. After that came the heart, all of which was dumped into the blood
filled tub below the corpse. Doing my best not to look at the empty ribcage, I took the weapon Otis had
given me and slit through the skin of her stomach like it was hot butter; allowing her ropes of intestines
to spring free and nearly hit me in the face. Gagging slightly and wiping bloody fluid off my face, I stared
at the length of guts dangling from the slightly swinging body. Horror and disgust filled my hazel eyes
but I couldn't call it off now. I was getting in far too deep and had done way too much. So, taking another
deep breath, I reached into the cut I had made to pull out the exposed offal.**
After what seemed like hours, all of the organs had been pulled free; leaving the body to drain for the
night. Staring at the female that had once been alive, I couldn't help but shudder at how little she
resembled a human split open like this. Looking down at my blood covered hands, I could barely believe I
was the one that had done most of it to her. “Come on, let's git ourselves cleaned up,” husked an accented
voice by my ear, forcing me back to what was now my horrifying reality. My head jerking up, I saw the
beast was even more covered in blood than I was; a strange expression glittering in his icy gaze. Before I
could even gather my wits enough to respond, the impatient man was grabbing my right arm in a harsh
grip; dragging me roughly behind him. In a flurry of activity, I found myself in the bathroom from
earlier; watching as Otis slowly shucked his bloodied clothing.
Shaking myself free of my daze, I pulled off my own clothes until I was as naked as he was; feeling hot
and cold wash through me as nausea curdled my stomach. The longer I had to think, the more what I had
taken part in sank in and the sicker I felt. Whatever person I was going to be at the end of this couldn't
be worth saving these people for! Still, it was far too late for any of that now. I was stuck here and the
best I could do was try to carry through with my plan. I had to find some way to save them, even if it
meant losing my own soul in the process. The sound of the shower startled me out of my thoughts and I
found myself looking into a certain killer's strangely neutral blue eyes.
His gaze was almost assessing as he looked me over quietly, the wheels clearly turning in his head. Then
he was stalking toward me, something in his eyes forcing me to back up instinctually until my naked back
hit the grungy tile of the wall behind me. Just feeling the filthy surface made my skin crawl but I soon
had bigger things to worry about as the unpredictable psychopath rapidly closed the distance. His eyes
narrowed as his lips pursed, his nostrils flared as he continued to mull something over in his head.
“Somethin' 'bout yew… don't make no sense. Ya come here t'learn from me but ya've never so much as
killed a frog afore. Killin' tain't exactly th'kinda interest one jest comes by. Ya act more green than ya
should fer someone doin' what yer doin'. I cain't figure it out. By now ya shoulda cracked if'n ya were
lyin' t'me but ya don't act like no killer I've ever seen,” he rumbled, his accent getting thicker the more
frustrated he became.
“I almost wanna accuse ya of plannin' somethin' but ya don't act like thet either. Ya act compliant and do
wut yer told. If I don't give ya permission, ya don't do it. Ya don't act like a victim or like yer even
interested in trying to alert anyone. Ya haven't even tried t'run away despite ya obviously having no
taste fer what we're doin'. Jest what is it thet yer up to?” he continued, pressing himself against me as he
continued to glare into my eyes.
With how rapidly he had changed attitudes, I didn't dare so much as breathe out of fear of setting him
off further. “Ya don't act like ya have any other motivation other than to make me happy. What is it yer
really after?” rasped his thickening accent as one of his rough hands came up to cup my heavy right
breast. Hot breath puffed on my neck as he used the other hand to grasp my chin roughly, turning my
head to the side harshly. Then his teeth came to rest on my jugular as a low noise left him, his lithe body
going stiff as he bit down hard. A small squeak of pain left me before I bit down on my lower lip to keep
my pain to myself, this action only serving to further incense the mad man pressing me into the wall.
“Even now, yer lettin' me do what I want t'ya without even tryin' t'fight me,” he snarled, sounding as
pleased as he did pissed off. Then a sharp blade came to rest on my neck, making my blood run cold as fear
bloomed in my chest.
“I could kill ya any time and it would be no skin off my nose,” the murderer bit out, his sky blue eyes
meeting mine steadily as he watched my expression.
Despite my deep fear, I did nothing to fight or even beg for my life; knowing to do so would only piss him
off more. So I met his gaze as steadily as I could, feeling the cold press of the sharp blade against my skin
for what seemed like an eternity. Narrowing his eyes even more, he backed away from me to take the
knife away from my skin and place it on the bathroom sink. “I will figure ya out soon enough. Heaven help
ya if'n I find out ya've been workin' with th'pigs,” he bit out before turning his back on me and getting into
the shower. As soon as the curtain shut, I let out the breath I had been holding and placed a shaky hand
over my racing heart. Just how close I had come to being another statue honestly frightened me but I
didn't have long to ponder that fact, Otis' hand motioning for me to join him impatiently. Gathering what
was left of my courage, I took a deep breath and stepped into the closet like space.
As soon as I entered, I was whirled to the front; the hot water hitting my back and nearly drawing a cry
of pain from me. Flinching slightly, I faced whatever way Otis turned me and simply allowed him to do as
he wished. To my shock, this turned out to be a surprisingly gentle wash. With hands that had killed
many and tortured more, the ghoul washed my pale, slightly chubby body. While it was too dark to see
the amount of blood being rinsed away, I could feel it clearly; making me shudder as just how much I felt
running down my thighs. This drew an impatient noise from the killer washing me but he continued to be
gentle, almost as if he was exploring me. “Ya see? This is what I'm talkin' about,” he whispered in a bitter
voice, his hands moving to scrub under my ample breasts.
“Ya act disgusted by murder like the rest of them but ya make no move to help them. If this is some trick,
its pretty fuckin' elaborate,” the monster rasped, spinning me to face him as his large hands traveled
down to cup my butt.
Despite everything that had happened, I felt the traitorous spark of arousal in my lower belly and found
myself stunned by it. As if he saw this, the taller man stiffened before a knowing smirk curled his lips.
Next thing I knew his lips were taking mine possessively as one of his hands reached up to play with one
of my nipples. Just the feeling of his callouses on my pink bud drew a quiet moan from my lips, shame and
disgust filling me due to my rising need. Just what kind of person was I becoming if I could feel lustful
after what I had done? As if he sensed my thoughts, the nearly albino killer broke the kiss to watch my
face as he slowly swiped a thumb along my sensitive nipple. The sound I released in response made his
gaze darken as a smirk curled his lips.
Next thing I knew, I was being spun so my back faced the wraith; a strong hand forcing my upper back to
bend. Knowing very well what was coming next, I braced my hands on my upper thighs as I tried to relax
as much as possible. When I felt him press his erection along my slightly aroused slit, I took a shaky
breath as I forced myself to stay loose. If I tensed, what happened next would only hurt more. Thankfully
for me, this was enough to ease his entry into my unprepared body; the feeling of his manhood stretching
me barely causing a burn. Then he was moving slowly, one of his hand coming down between my thighs to
play with my clit as he took me. Soon the combination had me releasing strained moans, the feeling of
pleasure roiling and tightening within my lower body entirely against my will. “Come on ya lil slut, cum
for me,” rasped his voice in my ear as his thin hips snapped into mine violently. Then I was exploding as if
by his command alone, my vision filling with white as I felt his hot seed fill me. Then he was pulling out
as strong arms wrapped around me to hold me up, his strength the only thing keeping me from collapsing.
As I regained my strength, I became all too aware of the feeling of close scrutiny; causing me to turn my
head slightly to face the beast holding me. His pale, bearded face was once again deeply thoughtful as his
pale eyes roved over my face. “I c'n promise ya this much, if this turns out t'be a trick ya'll regret th'day
you were ever born,” he bit out before he stormed out of the shower to get dressed. Shuddering at the
blatant threat, I shook my dark haired head to clear my thoughts before joining him; the both of us
getting dressed in tense silence. As soon as we were clothed, he was dragging me back into the hall via
my left wrist; very nearly running Baby over on his way out.
“Are ya guys done with your project?” she chirped, her ditzy voice filled with excitement as she bounced
on the heels of her feet. Rolling his eyes, Otis merely shoved me toward the bubbly blonde.
“Knock yerself out,” he growled, storming away from us without looking back once.
As soon as we were alone, Baby broke into a bright grin that made my skin crawl. “We're gonna have a
blast today! Come on, lets git ya some new clothes,” she declared before grabbing my right wrist and
dragging me behind her. As the enthusiastic murderess led me down the hall and out the door, I found
myself wondering just what I was getting myself into. I was never one to enjoy going shopping but it
certainly seemed like my companion was. In fact, it seemed like I was going to be in for a long day of
acting like a doll; the prospect nearly making me roll my eyes in annoyance. It would take a miracle to
get through the next few hours with my sanity intact.

Fun With the Fireflys

WARNING!!: Forced Cannibalism. Torture of a Minor. Oral Rape of a Minor. Minor2. Forced Eating of
Vomit. More extreme parts marked with **.

Author's Note: A big thank you for all the people reading and enjoying this thing. When I started writing
it I didn't know just how large of an audience to expect for such a harsh story. I know it isn't too easy to
read but it hasn't been so easy to write believe it or not. Its good to know my hard work isn't in vain!

Chapter Six: Fun with the Fireflys

If I had to be dragged into another dilapidated clothing store I was going to puke. As it was, we had been
going from store to store for hours; Baby having me try on things because she thought they were cute. So
far I had only picked out a few things, a bra being the first one. I knew it wasn't going to last very long
but I was simply uncomfortable going around with my huge breasts flopping around willy nilly. The next
things I had picked out had been some jeans and t-shirts. The t-shirts were all black and were mostly
band t-shirts, a few for Slipknot and even more for Marilyn Manson. “You aren't seriously going to go
with those?!” the blonde had groused, only getting an annoyed eye roll from me in response.
“Sorry but I like my wardrobe a bit less… florescent,” I sighed, eyeing my companion's neon pink clothing.
The only non-pink items were the Stetson hat she wore and the cowboy boots on her feet, a fact that
honestly surprised me.
The murderess pouted at me in reply, declaring me no fun at all before pulling leading me up to the cash
register and paying for our things. At first I was surprised she didn't merely hold up the shop but then it
struck me, doing something like that would bring unwanted attention down onto the family. They seemed
well established in the house, feeling like they had lived there for a long time without being caught for
what they were doing. The best way not to get caught was not to cause a ruckus in town and seem as
normal as possible. It was probably the reason why Otis rarely left the house, let alone his room.
Once we had our now bagged clothing, I thanked the cashier before following Baby back out into the hot
Texas day. The sun was just starting to get low in the sky, giving the atmosphere a slightly orange ting.
Despite that, the air was still sweltering; causing those strange ripples above the road that made it look
like water. Wiping a pale hand over my sweaty forehead to clear it, I wished I had grabbed some shorts
as well. If worse came to worse, I could just cut the legs off a couple of my jeans. Sighing, I simply
followed the female that had brought me here; not relishing the long walk back to the house.
Unfortunately for me, R.J. had been gone and Baby had wanted to walk; pretty much leaving me with no
choice but to agree. I never regretted that decision more than ten minutes into the half hour trudge
home.
You see, I grew up in Michigan. I was used to the cold, much colder than Texas got. Even in Michigan I had
never done well in the summer, the humidity making me feel like I was practically melting. At least this
heat was dry but it was so much hotter than anything I had ever felt in my life. To top things off, I
overheat absurdly easy and I soon found myself swaying as I began to feel a bit faint. The only thing that
kept me going was the knowledge that I would be left behind if I collapsed. But that was getting harder
and harder the further we went, my mouth feeling like the very desert beside us as we made our long
way back. It wasn't long before my sight began to double and blur, my feet stumbling as I struggled with
the throbbing in my skull. “Hey, hey you okay?” came a familiar but strange voice as if through water.
Mumbling something incoherent, I pitched forward as my world went black.
A muffled, angry, male voice was the first thing I became aware of. The next thing I became aware of was
a cold cloth on my head while two female voices replied to the male. One sounded soothing while the
other sounded like it was almost groveling. Groaning softly, I forced my aching, hazel eyes to open;
feeling like my eyelids were being weighed down by wet cement. “She's wakin' up yew two. Stop yer
fightin' and try t'keep yer voices low. Poor thing's gonna have one hell of a headache,” demanded the
previously soothing voice, the tone slightly older than the other one. A low growl came from the man
but the two shut up, something my pounding head was very grateful for.
My carpet-y tongue slowly snaked out to lick my chapped lips as my eyes finally opened, allowing me to
see nothing but blurs of three people in a very familiar room. I was aware of my horribly dry throat as
well as nausea churning in my stomach, only adding to the misery my body was feeling at the moment.
“Water,” came a croaky rasp, very nearly making me jump out of my skin until I realized it had come from
me.
“Sure thang hunny. Jest take it slow. Ya don' wanna throw up in yer condition,” came the older, motherly
voice from before, kind hands helping me to sit up as a glass was held to my lips.
Reaching up with shaky hands, I took the cool, glass cylinder in my hands and took a small sip despite my
overwhelming thirst. This proved to be a good decision, my stomach lurching as soon as the first swallow
hit it. Very nearly gagging, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to stave off puking. “What th'Hell
happened,” snarled the male voice from earlier, his voice holding a downright dangerous edge.
“I don't know! One minute she was fine and the next she fainted,” replied a teary sounding female voice, a
sob hitching in her throat.
Opening my eyes again slowly, I saw the people surrounding me and felt the memories of just where I was
return in a rush. In front of me stood Mama, a guilty looking Baby and a downright livid looking Otis.
Groaning at the fact that all of what had happened to me hadn't been some fever dream, I hazarded
another drink of water to soothe the sandpaper feeling in my throat. “I overheated,” I sighed quietly,
avoiding the glances of all three as my stomach tried to accept the newest offering of water. Suddenly
there was a rough hand grabbing my chin and yanking my head upward, drawing a gasp from my lips as I
found myself face to face with a very pissed off looking killer.
“Otis!” Mama admonished, more fear than anger in her accented voice.
The psychopath ignored her, narrowing his blue eyes as he glowered down at me. He looked so angry that
my heart nearly stopped in my chest as dread filled me. My mind began to race as I tried to think of
what I could of possibly done wrong, only to come up with nothing. “Why th'fuck didn't ya tell Baby? Ya
stupid fuckin' bitch,” he hissed in a quiet voice, his grip tightening slightly before he was letting go to
slam both of his open hands down on the mattress on either side of me. He leaned in so close our noses
touched, his foul breath filling my nose and only adding to my nausea.
“I… I don't know. I… I guess I was trying to power through. After all, I could have very well been left
behind if I was deemed too much of a bother,” I replied, my voice still nothing by husky rasp.
Clearing my throat, I took yet another sip from the glass despite the extreme urge to just gulp all of it
down. It would make me feel better for the split second before I spilled my guts and caused myself to get
even more dehydrated. Otis pursed his lips in response, his large hands gripping the sheets as he gritted
his teeth. “You nearly died dear. By the time we got t'ya you were convulsing and foamin' at the mouth.
Otis had t' give ya mouth to mouth a few times on th'way back. Ah'm surprised yer even awake darlin',”
Mama whispered quietly just before it looked like the almost albino was about to blow up. I could only
gape at her in reply, my mouth hanging open as I tried to absorb what she had told me.
“Why didn't you just leave me? It woulda been a whole helluva a lot easier,” came out of my mouth before
I could stop it, causing me to clap a hand over my mouth far too late.
The looks I got in response made a sickening wave of terror wash through me, their expressions ranging
from angry to downright nuclear meltdown. Otis, of course, was the angriest; his entire body shaking as
he huffed heavily through his nose. “Yer fam'ly now,” Baby and Mama replied at the same time, looking
disgusted that I would think they would leave me behind. Unfortunately this response only confused me
more and I could only give them a stunned glance, fighting the extreme urge to back away from the livid
murderer. Since when was I any more than a victim to these people? What did this mean? Just how much
of a family member was I considered? All the new questions made my head throb painfully, drawing a
small whimper from me as I reached up my free hand to cradle said appendage. I never noticed the
wraith hovering over me narrow his steel blue eyes.
“Everyone out,” he hissed in a deadly voice, making the two females in the room flinch. Despite their
apparent reluctance, they left the room without a backward glance; the sound of the door clicking shut
almost sounding like the lid of a coffin slamming shut.
As soon as we were alone, Otis was leveling his too blue gaze at me; the expression on his white face
nearly making my heart stop in my chest. “Yew fuckin' ijit,” he snarled, his southern accent thicker due to
his extreme rage. I could only meet his gaze steadily, my heart thrumming against my chest as a myriad
of scenarios filled my head; none of them good. Snarling low in his chest, the rail thin ghoul shoved
himself off me before beginning to pace like a caged tiger beside the bed.
“Fuckin' stupid, slut. Should jest kill ya and git it over with,” he bit out, his voice low despite his extreme
rage. His steely eyes stayed locked on me as he moved, a sneer curling his upper lip.
Then he stopped moving altogether, closed his burning eyes, took a deep breath and opened his eyes again
to lock them with my own. “Ye've been here long enough fer alla us t'know yer no threat. That trip t'town
earlier also helped. Ya acted like ya did it everyday and din't even try to alert anyone or escape. I still
don't know what yer plannin' but it isn't t'harm us. As such yer now part of our family and ya need t'be
able t'watch out fer yerself. What ya did out there coulda gotten yer ass killed!” the beast growled, his
voice slightly strained with the effort of not screaming at me. Blinking, I tried to absorb what he told me
as I took another sip of my water. It almost sounded like… but that was stupid. People like Otis simply
didn't have the capability to feel anything for anyone, let alone love.
“I'm sorry I just didn't think I mattered enough to bother with if I became an inconvenience. I had no
idea you guys considered me part of the family already. I haven't even been here that long,” I responded,
keeping my gaze on his as he glowered at me.
The ghoul only narrowed his eyes before letting out a frustrated noise. Something strange danced briefly
in his normally dead orbs but was gone before I could identify it. “How could ya not figure it out?! Do ya
see any of th'other victims wandering around freely? Do you see them gettin' t'sit at the table or help
with a project voluntarily? You've been given a lot of freedom and have yet t'abuse it. Think about what
that means to a clan of murderers. Some of the things ya've done only other family members have done.
Maybe if ya'd stopped t'think ya'd have realized thet,” spat the infuriated male before he stalked into
what I was now calling the 'Prep Room.'
I could only stare after him, taking a careful sip from my water before carefully getting out of the bed
and allowing myself to slide to the nest of stolen, bloody clothes I had been using. I had no way to know
if it had been Otis or Mama that had placed me in the bed and therefore had no clue if I had permission to
stay there. With his current mood, moving seemed the wisest thing to do. Wrinkling my nose at the
disgusting smell, I did my best to finish off my water; my stomach complaining less and less the more I
drank. After the glass was done I finally allowed myself to drift back to sleep, doing my best to ignore
how unpleasant the barely padded floor felt on my sore body.
The sensation of being lifted woke me out of a sound sleep, making me open my brown-green eyes in shock.
All I could see was a blur as I was spun slightly and practically thrown, the breath leaving my lungs
briefly when I hit the battered mattress of the only bed. Blinking in confusion, I stared up at the person
who had done this; my vision slowly clearing enough to see Otis glowering down at me. “And jest what
th'fuck do ya think yew were doin'?” he bit out, his mid tone voice slightly deeper due to his simmering
anger.
“Er, I was getting some sleep. Did you need me for something?” I replied, my voice still raspy due to the
lingering dryness in my throat.
“Why th'fuck were ya on th'floor,” he hissed, his voice still low despite his obvious urge to yell at me. I
could only blink some more as my head began to throb once again from my lack of understanding.
“I thought that was where I was supposed to sleep,” I whispered, startling when he shoved another glass
of water at me.
Reaching forward cautiously, I whispered a thank you as I took the glass and took a long swallow.
Thankfully my stomach had calmed enough to allow this, the cool liquid soothing my dry throat. “Even
after what I told ya earlier, you chose t'lay on th'floor like a dog,” he sneered, his voice holding a
disgusted tone. To my shock, I could feel a faint thread of irritation and I quickly shoved that feeling to
the far back of my head. Otis wasn't the type of person I could afford to talk back to.
“I had no idea if that meant I could use the bed or even whose idea it was to put me there. As far as I
knew, I was supposed to use that pile of used clothing. I can't really take anything for granted,” I replied
calmly, sarcastic words dancing in the back of my mind. By some wonder, I managed to sound confused and
placating instead of annoyed.
Otis only looked more angry as I finished explaining, his lips pursed in a thin line as his jaw tensed. “Fine,
I guess I hafta explain everything t'ya. Yer gonna use th'bed from now on and ya can come and go as ya
please. Jest don't leave th'farm without one of us. Ya don't know yer way around yet and yer bound t'git
yer ass lost,” he growled before simply turning and storming out of the room, leaving me feeling even
more muddled. Just like earlier, it almost seemed as if the ghoul was starting to care for me; a notion
that still seemed just as ridiculous. I would have to get rid of these silly hopes of this man ever coming
to feel anything for me. Still, at least I was now allowed to be like any other family member. Hopefully
that meant I wouldn't have to walk on eggshells as much. Sighing, I tried to lay back and relax; sipping my
water as I waited for the monster to come back.
I didn't have to wait long, the familiar sound of female pleas coming up the steps and down the hall. “Oh
Christ not again,” I moaned, my weak stomach lurching at the thought of having to participate in more
torture. My suspicions were confirmed when the thin male practically kicked his own door down,
dragging in the blonde that had witnessed her friend's torture at my hands and the strawberry blonde
Baby had dressed up earlier. Remnants of make-up were still on her face and her light green eyes held a
slightly dazed glaze. While she didn't struggle, the blonde more than made up for it, squirming in Otis'
grip like wild cat and begging breathlessly with him not to do this.
Instead of paying any heed to the women he no doubt saw as no more than meat sacks, the killer turned
his icy gaze to me and narrowed his eyes. “Jest cause yer sick doesn't mean you git t'miss out onna lesson,”
he sneered, shoving our intended victims into the 'Preparation Room.' I could only inwardly groan, my
stomach already twisting treacherously. Getting to my still shaky legs, I grabbed a lone bucket by the
door; recognizing it as the one I had previously thrown up in. Thankfully it had been washed out since but
that somehow didn't give me much comfort. Grimacing, I made my way past the material that blocked the
door; my heart dropping into the pit of my stomach at the sight that greeted me.
The ghoul had hung the two women from hooks hanging from the ceiling via the ropes around their
wrists. “You girls must be starving,” he cooed in a voice dripping with false facetiousness just as Mama
came bustling into the room with a plate of steaming meat. As she passed by, a familiar smell filled my
nose and very nearly caused me to gag simply because I knew what it meant. The meat he was about to
give them was more than likely human and probably belonged to their recently deceased friend, the
revelation making my stomach heave sickly. What I was about to witness was pure evil. Sure enough, the
cruel man walked up to the dazed female first as Mama made her way back out; feeding her bits of meat
that had no doubt been her friend.
Unable to watch the gruesome scene, I switched my gaze to the naked blonde beside her; wincing at the
bruises and cuts that littered her body. The fact that she was still trying struggle and plead honestly
impressed me. If I was in her position, I would be silently begging for death while trying to mitigate the
pain they were going to inflict on me. Once the teen caught me looking at her, she gave me a glare full of
hate, something I honestly couldn't fault her for. After everything I had done to her and her friend, I
deserved every bit of her hatred. I couldn't even apologize, not that she would accept it under current
circumstances. It was at that moment, however, that the wraith noticed I wasn't paying attention to
what he was doing to the nearly comatose female.
A throat clearing drew my attention back to him and the look he gave me told me that I had better not
allow my attention to lapse again. Licking my still dry lips, I nodded slightly to show I got the message;
keeping my eyes on him as he moved to the golden haired girl on the right. As soon as she saw him
coming, she started to shake her head; backing away from him as much as the rope on the hook would
allow her to. “No, no I won't eat it! Stephy disappeared not too long ago and I'm not stupid,” she hissed, her
eyes shining with hate and fear as she turned her head away from the extended fork. I could only wince,
knowing Otis would have only used the top part of the torso to make the grotesque statue we had started
before I had left. There would have been plenty left to cook what was on the plate the male held.
The violent creature only sneered in response, pressing the cooked piece of flesh against her lips until she
was forced to accept it. “If ya spit that out I will make sure ya fuckin' regret it,” he rasped, watching her
as she chewed and swallowed the offering. It looked like it was taking every bit of her will power not to
puke the small bite back up, her face going extremely pale. A smirk curled his lips as she struggled, his
hand extending another bit of meat to her.
“Take it willingly or yer friend there will be tortured like that brunette was,” he snarled, his blue eyes
glittering with dark amusement. Looking like she wanted to spit on him, the teen took the meat until he
was done feeding her, the wraith handing the plate off to me before going into the art room.
A sick feeling of apprehension filled me as I set the plate on the lone bed in the room. Something inside
me told me just what he had gone to get and I wasn't disappointed. Through the material that blocked the
room off to view, Otis pushed a metal surgical table that had a very familiar looking dog body on it. The
only difference was that a teen had been sewn onto it from the ribs up, her eyes opened to make her seem
surprised. The pained noise that escaped the more coherent teen made my heart ache for her and I
wished I could do something to ease her pain. To be honest, it would probably be a good thing she would be
dead by the end of the; otherwise the child would probably go violently insane. “No! What the fuck did
you fucking do to her you monster!” she screamed before making meaty, gagging noises.
**Then she was vomiting, the fluid splashing noisily onto the hard wood of the floor beneath her. Her
friend still looked unaware of anything happening around her, her eyes holding a glassy look as she
simply stared straight ahead. “Now look at th'mess ya made! Yer gonna hafta clean that up,” the monster
barked, reaching up to yank her bound wrists off the hook that held her up. Then he was shoving her to
the floor rubbing her nose in the puddle she had made like a naughty puppy.
“Eat it,” he snarled, ignoring her desperate sobs of 'I can't' and 'please.' Instead he wrapped a fist into her
flaxen hair, kicking her hard in the ribs before shoving her face into the mess.
“You fuckin' heard me you whore! Do what I tell ya to or you'll git a lot worse,” hissed his angry voice, his
tone dripping with deadly promise.
I could only watch, cold nausea settling into the pit of my stomach as I watched the sobbing teen begin to
lap up her own puke. While she was doing that, the nearly albino wraith moved over to the strawberry
blonde, taking her hands down a lot more gently than he had the other's. “Lick her pussy while she's doing
that,” he hissed, getting a nod in response. Then she was getting to her knees almost mechanically,
absolutely no life in her eyes as she began to lick at her friend's womanhood. It was all I could do to keep
watching, my entire being filling with disgust and horror for the two girls. After everything I had seen
so far, I dreaded what else I would be forced to participate in. Could I really love a monster that would
do this to innocent people, let alone his family.**
To my horror, as I watched him prowl towards me with intent clear in his eyes, I found my answer was
still yes. Whatever had driven me to love this beast in the first place hadn't left, in fact it had only
strengthened. After everything he had put me through, my feelings were only growing and I found
myself wondering just what the fuck was wrong with me. Sure there was nothing about this man to love
and yet I still felt it. So when his lips descended on mine, I found myself responding despite having no
real desire to do so. An action that seemed to surprise Otis as much as it did me. In fact he even broke
the kiss to meet my eyes, his sky blue eyes studying me closely as he frowned.
Then his lips were crashing down on mine even more violently, his hands tearing the borrowed clothes I
still wore off my torso; an action that made me glad I hadn't put on my new clothes yet. My pants
followed just as rapidly, his callused hands all over my milky skin as his teeth bit roughly at my lips.
Despite the situation unfolding behind him, I felt the stirrings of arousal and felt disgusted with myself.
The further this went, the more I found out about myself and I honestly didn't like what I was seeing.
“On the floor,” he demanded against my mouth, his arms bending me backward as he pressed himself
against me. Nodding in response, I backed out of his hold to lay on my back; doing my best to ignore the
sobbed moans of blondie being eaten out by her friend.
Before I knew what was happening, I felt his mouth on my junction; drawing a surprised noise from me as
his tongue entered my barely wet passage. Rough hands moved my thighs to rest over his shoulders as his
tongue lapped hungrily at me, drawing small moans from me as I felt sparks of lust begin to race through
my veins. This drew a pleased sounding noise from the killer, his mouth moving up to latch onto my clit
and suck. My hand instinctually found their way into his greasy, nearly white hair, the sparks gathering
in my lower body and starting to form a familiar coil of pressure inside me. Within moments that coil
began to tighten, a low moan leaving my lips as I felt him slip two of his fingers into my slick passage.
I had enough time to wonder at the fact that he was doing this at all before the fog of need completely
took over, my hips moving on their own as I began to keen his name softly. Growling against me, the
unpredictable killer redoubled his efforts; drawing a strangled sound from me as the coil became a
pulsing, clenching ball of electric want. My limbs began to tingle as colors danced behind my closed eyes,
his name like a mantra as I ground against his face. Then I was exploding, my vision filling with white
moments before I simply passed out from everything my poor body had been through.

All New Problems

WARNING!!: EXTREME Torture. Waterboarding. Actual Waterboarding marked with **

Author's Note: And shit only continues to get worse but we all knew that was going to happen.

Chapter Seven: All New Problems

The first thing I became aware of was a pair of arms wrapped tightly around me. The next thing I became
aware of was the fact that I was laying on the crusty mattress that served as Otis' bed. Blinking in the
semi-darkness of the room, I tried to remember just how I had gotten here. Then it all came back in a
rush and I groaned as I felt nausea fill my stomach. Pulling myself free gingerly, I looked down at the
sleeping murderer; shocked when I saw just how innocent and handsome he was. Without his frown and
constant sneer, the wraith looked almost human and I found myself having an odd urge to brush his
greasy hair out of his too pale face. Knowing that action would probably end in disaster, I went to the
door to go to the bathroom. With the way my stomach was feeling, it would only be a matter of moments
before I threw up. In my rush, I didn't notice the ghoul sitting up behind me.
I had enough time to get into the room, close the door and lift the lid before I was heaving into the dirty
water. As I vomited I couldn't help but wonder why I was so nauseated. Despite everything, I had only
thrown up during intense moments. As horrible as remembering yesterday was, it wasn't nearly as bad as
gutting the dead teen. I shouldn't be feeling this sick. That was when realization hit and I felt a cold
wave of fear grip my roiling stomach. We had been having nothing but unprotected sex and there was a
very real possibility that I was… “Yer fuckin' pregnant,” came a dangerous rasp from behind me,
interrupting my thoughts while simultaneously finishing them.
Turning around slowly, I could only look at the man standing there as terror began to lock my limbs.
Horrible possibilities of what he was going to do to me flashed through my head and I was barely able to
fight off the extreme urge to cower. If I showed any fear of him now it would only make things much
worse for me. “It certainly looks that way,” came a voice that sounded far too calm for the turmoil
happening inside me. The thin man only pursed his lips tightly before running a hand through his scraggly
locks.
“So, what now?” I found myself asking just before another wave came over me. I dreaded his answer but I
would do whatever he wanted, I really had no choice. I could only hope they had medical supplies if he
decided on a home abortion. Just thinking about it made me want to shudder. If he decided to go that
route, there would be very little chance of there being anything to dull my pain.
“Yer fucked fer nine months,” he snarled, entering the room and closing the door behind him. Then he was
taking a seat on the lip of the tub as his pale blue eyes locked on me. I could only give him a stunned look,
completely surprised by this response. I had expected rage, violence, maybe even a demand to get rid of it
immediately. I certainly wasn't counting on him wanting to keep it.
“Doin' a home abortion could kill ya. There's jest no way to do it safely with what we have,” he rasped, his
furious eyes watching me closely.
I stared at him as I tried to comprehend what he was telling me. With everything I had found out about
him over my stay here, I found myself wondering why he even cared. It was more in his nature to do
what benefited him despite who it hurt. He was completely without empathy or sympathy, making his
current actions exceedingly contradictory. “Why do you care if I live or die?” came out of my mouth
before I could stop it. Then I was hit by another wave of nausea, dry heaving into the toilet as Otis
shifted in his position beside me.
“Yer different than th'others,” came the fairly simple, unsatisfying reply. Then he was getting to his feet
and leaving the room, leaving me alone and very off balance.
When my nausea had finally faded, I washed out my mouth and looked around for a toothbrush that
didn't look too grubby. With everything that was going on, using someone else's toothbrush was pretty
low on my list of concerns. Thankfully I came across one that was unused, making me think it was
probably Otis'. Rolling my weary, hazel eyes, I brushed my teeth and tongue until the taste of stomach
bile left my mouth. Washing out the toothbrush thoroughly, I found myself eyeing the shower and
wondering if I could get away with a quick wash. It had been a few days and I honestly felt more than a
little gross. Before I could make up my mind, there was a loud banging on the door. “If yer done gettin'
sick c'mon out. We got a lotta shit t'do today,” came the ghoul's irritated sounding, mid-tone voice.
Sighing, I gave the tub a rueful glance before opening the door and exiting.
In a whirl of activity, I found myself carted downstairs and sat at the table; the lanky psychopath
stalking to the kitchen. For a split second I wondered what he was doing, then it slowly dawned on me
and dread settled in the pit of my stomach. “Oh he wouldn't… Not so early on and we aren't really sure,”
I whispered, anxiety wrapping around my heart as I became of whispering coming from the small room.
Then a feminine squeal of happiness exploded from the same area, making my heart drop into the pit of
my stomach. Before I could even think about retreating, Mama came charging into the dining room; her
pink nailed hands clasped in front of her large bosom.
“Is it true? Are ya really carryin' mah first grandbaby?” she whispered, tears of joy streaming down her
cheeks as she approached me with her pink clad arms outstretched. Then she was drawing me into a tight
hug as my vision focused on Otis, who leaned in the doorway of the kitchen. If I didn't know him better, I
could almost say he had a glint of amusement in his steely eyes.
“It looks like it right now. I didn't feel sick until this morning. The only way to really know for sure is to
wait a few days and see if my period comes on schedule,” I replied truthfully, not really wanting to get
the older female's hopes up.
“It don't matter. Don't need th'extra time t'know! Yer showin' all th'early signs! Ooooo, I cain't tell ya jest
how happy this makes meeee,” she squealed, her arms wrapping tightly around me.
I could only stand there, my arms dangling as I tried to rationalize my earlier illness. We had sex a lot
and he had cum in me every time so far, there was a very small chance that I wasn't pregnant. Just
acknowledging this fact nearly made me collapse as a whole new fear filled me. When it all came down to
it, I still wanted to save this family from a fate only I knew about. If I was carrying a child, I was now
putting them in even worse danger than before. Having a heavily pregnant woman with them while
they're trying to run would only slow them down, let alone when it came time for me to give birth.
“Fucking Christ what have I done,” I whispered, my vision blurring as my heart clenched painfully in my
chest. While trying to save them, I could have very well signed their death warrant.
A pair of large, rough hands landed on my clothed shoulders and I looked up to see Otis giving me a
suspicious glare. His icy eyes were practically boring into me as he seemed to be trying to asses
something. “Yer hidin' somethin'…,” he hissed, before he was grabbing me by my wrist and dragging me
upstairs. Mama followed behind closely with a disapproving look on her slightly chubby face.
“Naow you don' hurt her Otis! She's carryin' mah grandbaby after all,” she scolded, getting a sneer in
response. Then he was throwing me into his room and slamming the door, whirling to face me as his eyes
flashed.
“Ya don't wanna hurt us, that's obvious. You had ample opportunity to try to betray us again today and ya
only got sick. Still, yer fuckin' hidin' somthin' and I don't like that!” he bit out, his voice slightly deeper as
he began to stride towards me. I swallowed loudly in reply, my mind racing as I tried to think of
something to tell him. There was just no way I could tell him what was really going on. Then again, the
man was an expert people reader; there was every chance he would be able to tell I was lying. If that
happened, I had no doubt I would be subject to tortures I had only had nightmares about.
“I doubt you'd believe me if I told you. Right now, all I'm comfortable saying is I'm here to help you and
your family,” came out of my mouth, causing me to clap my hands over my mouth as horror filled me. The
expression that crossed his paper white face only increased my terror and he was closing the distance to
grab my upper arms in a painfully tight grip. Then he was lowering his face to mine, so close the tips of
our noses touched.
Instead of yelling at me like I thought he was going to, he stared into my eyes in an assessing manner.
Releasing a low, threatening noise, the unpredictable murderer shoved me away from him harshly before
stalking into the 'Preparation Room.' I merely stood and watched, trying to decide if I should give him
some space or if I should stay here. He hadn't given me permission to leave but he had told me yesterday
that I now had the same privileges as anyone else in the family. Still, I found myself reluctant to utilize
this. Otis was exceedingly unpredictable and I really couldn't take anything for granted right now. After
all, he could very easily decide I wasn't worthy of my new freedom without any warning. As it was, it
seemed like what little trust I had gained with him was being strained. Sighing, I eyed the bed as I
wondered if it was still okay for me to sit on it.
Deciding not to take any chances with him acting so volatile, I sat on the pile of stolen clothing that I
had been using as a bed. Unfortunately this proved to be the wrong choice when the wraith came back
into the room and saw me. “Fer someone who follows orders so well ya sure don't listen,” he hissed, every
line of his body tense as he stomped over to me. Before he could get close enough to yank me to my feet, I
beat him to it by getting up on my own power.
“I'm sorry but I thought sitting on the floor was better since you seem to feel unsure about me,” I tried
to explain, only getting a severe glare in return.
“Yer fuckin' carryin' mah child now. Short of tryin' t'hurt me or mah fam'ly, there ain't much that's gonna
make you less than fam'ly now,” he ground out, his accent thicker due to his simmering anger. Then he was
grabbing my wrist and dragging me behind him.
“Stop actin' like a fuckin' victim! Ya act like I'm gonna kill ya if ya step one toe outta line and that jest
ain't true anymore. I mean what I say when I tell ya that yer part of th'family now so start actin' like
one,” he continued, pulling me roughly down the stairs. He lead me around the stairs the lead upward,
taking me down a long, dark hall.
“I'll try to keep it in mind but you don't seem all that predictable, no offense. I'd rather not take a chance
on pissing you off enough to kill me in a fit of rage,” came my much too honest reply, making me wonder
what the fuck my subconscious was trying to do.
Otis stiffened as he came to a stop in front of a door, turning his head slightly to narrow his blue eyes at
me. “I ain't some wild animal with no reason. I can fuckin' control myself if I need to. Why th'fuck do ya
think yer still alive, let alone still possibly pregnant,” he pointed out as he swung the door open to reveal
a dark staircase leading downward. Just seeing it made my heart leap in my chest as fear raced up my
spine in an icy line. In the movies, this had been where they kept their victims when they weren't using
them. There would be only two reasons to bring me here, to help the lanky male get a victim or be put in
the cage myself. After all I had participated in, the prospect of being forced into the same area as the
teens was truly an intimidating one. There would be no telling what they would do to me before the
psychopath returned for me.
“Come on. We're gonna pick out two more for some fun today,” came a raspy, mid-tone voice, breaking me
out of my dark thoughts.
Nodding mechanically, I went down first; feeling that he was going to knock me over the head at any
moment as I moved forward. When we reached the bottom, I didn't feel any better; in fact anxiety
gripped me even harder as I took in the rather large room. There was a large, rickety looking bed in the
middle of the room; chained cuffs hanging from the posts of the headboard and footboard. On a chair by
the bed, sat Tiny; eating cereal out of a dog bowl that had his name engraved on it. The oversized man
looked up at me, a neutral look on his masked face. Before I could even wave, Otis was dragging me
towards a cage near the back of the room. In this cage was a bunch of naked women, not all of them the
teenagers the family had taken. Some of them looked like they had been there for a very long time,
making me shudder as I examined their cell.
The only bedding they had been given was a pile of straw that covered the concrete floor. Shackles hung
from the stone walls, blood splattering the cuffs and scrape marks covered the walls; showing there had
been many fruitless struggles in the tiny space. Only three of the women showed any life at all and those
were the new girls, the only exception being the strawberry blonde I had seen yesterday. Then my eyes
traveled to the only teen I had yet to see, a redhead that looked younger than the others and clung to
them tightly. Freckles dotted her chubby face and her sea-green eyes fixed on us as she tried to shield
her developing body. “I see ya've taken a liking t'lil Red there. I don't think we've played with her yet,”
Otis purred in my ear, jolting me back to reality with a cruel slam.
Seeing the child's eyes widen in terror made a cold wave of nausea clench the pit of my stomach and I
was barely able to keep myself from dry heaving. Before I could protest and pick someone else, however,
the beast was opening the cage and heading in; closing the door behind him. I could only watch, horror
and guilt jockeying for position inside me as he grabbed the orange haired female's upper arm and yanked
her to her feet. “No, no please! You can't!” pleaded the blonde, grabbing onto Otis' leg and bracing herself
for a blow. In a flash, I was waving for Tiny; motioning the giant to come help in case the teen turned
violent. As much sympathy as I had for their plight, I couldn't allow them to hurt the ghoul.
The psychopath kicked out at the female within seconds, his blue eyes flashing with rage as a cruel smile
quirked his lips. At the same time, Tiny appeared next to me; watching the events closely. If the other
women showed any signs of mutiny, he would be in there to help and so would I. Even though I was pretty
sure I was pregnant, I wasn't about to let anyone hurt the gangly killer. Besides, it was sort of expected
of me to help at this point. “Don't tell me what I can and can't do,” the violent man snarled, narrowing his
eyes as he whirled around and dragged the young girl behind him. When he saw that I had called back up
for him and that we were ready to defend him, he froze as a stunned look briefly crossed his pale face.
Then his familiar frown slammed into place and he was stalking towards the chain-link door.
Tiny and I barely had enough time to get out of the way before he was stomping his way through,
slamming the door behind him and locking it. “Ya did good Tiny. Go upstairs and tell Mama I said you
could have a cookie,” he grumbled, giving the taller but younger male a surprisingly affectionate pat on
his lumpy, deformed arm. The gentle giant nodded slowly before his hidden eyes shifted to me. Then he
was lumbering upstairs, the wooden steps creaking loudly in protest. As soon as he was gone, Otis was
dragging the sniveling teen up the stairs; his eyes shooting to me when I didn't follow immediately. Not
looking forward to whatever he had planned, I reluctantly closed the distance; following close behind as
he led me to his room.
As soon as the door was closed, he was tying up their victim and shoving her toward the 'Preparation
Room.' “Stay here,” he hissed before I could move from my spot by the door. Blinking, I wondered what I
had done wrong this time. I had gotten Tiny's attention like I should have. Hell, I had even been ready to
come to his defense as well. Truly, I had done nothing to piss him off. Sighing softly, I moved toward the
bed to sit on the mattress; Otis coming back in as soon as my butt met the cushion.
“Ya coulda jest let them attack me. Tiny woulda been none the wiser with how bad his hearin' is,” he
whispered, a slight hint of confusion under the fury in his voice.
“Why on Earth would I do that?!” I responded out of simple shock, the thought of what he was suggesting
making me feel more sick than anything that was possibly coming next. A fact that honestly stunned me.
I felt more for this sadistic man than I did for the poor women he was helping to torture and the
realization made me disgusted with myself. This man had forced me to do horrifying things, had done
terrible things to me and yet I was still falling deeper and deeper in love with him. Just what the fuck
was wrong with me?
Otis seemed just as shocked by my response, staring at me for a long while before slowly closing the
distance between us. It took everything within me to stand my ground as he approached, meeting his eyes
steadily as he stopped bare inches from me. We were so close that my breasts brushed his chest every
time I inhaled and his face was just as close, the tip of his nose brushing mine as he glowered down at me.
Then his lips were taking mine fiercely, one of his hands coming up to tangle in my ebony hair as the
other came to rest on the small of my back. I could only make a surprised noise in response, my hands
coming up of their own accord to rest on his chest. Then I was kissing back, causing the ghoul to jolt
slightly in shock. With a low growl, he broke the kiss; panting heavily as his hands shook ever so slightly.
“Because anyone else but family would have… If you had chosen to take the side of th'whores down
there I woulda been fucked,” he rasped, his lips brushing mine as his sour breath hit my nose.
“Well you keep saying I am family now. I should at least act the part,” I returned, my heart pounding
against my ribs as anxiety and arousal fought for top position inside me. The tank top wearing wraith
smirked slightly, to my utter surprise. Then he was backing away from me and headed back into the
'Preparation Room', giving me a lingering stare before his cold, angry mask slammed back into place.
Knowing he wanted me to follow so he could give me one of his 'lessons,' I took a deep breath and
gathered my courage before following. Despite that, I still almost lost my shit at the sight that greeted
me upon entry. The younger female was bound to a flat board that had her head tilted downward and a
grungy looking cloth was thrown over her face. It almost looked like she had been prepared for a form of
torture known as 'waterboarding.' The metal bucket by the right side of the platform only cemented my
suspicions and I felt my nausea return in a cold wave. All my warm feelings I had previously were now
replaced with utter horror. The fact that I would have to participate in this made my anxiety spike and
I could feel my knees start to go weak as the edges of my vision grayed. I would have probably fainted if
I hadn't been fully aware of the consequences if I did.
Giving my mostly bare arm a hard pinch, I forced myself back to alertness in time to see Otis stomping his
way toward me. I only had seconds before his hand wrapped around my wrist, tightening painfully as he
pulled me to our would be victim. “Stop thinkin' of that piece of meat there as a person! She ain't nothing
but a vapid, whiny lil bitch who woulda probably found some guy to live offa while she pumped out his
kids. She ain't worth th'shit on yer fucking boots,” spat the cruel male beside me, gripping my chin in one
hand as he directed my focus to the bound child. To my absolute horror, I felt my head shaking
subconsciously.
“She's just a baby. She's barely even lived for Christ's sake! How can you expect me to look past that,” I
whispered, grimacing as his grip tightened painfully.
“She ain't nothing but a whiny, carbon copy of whatever mommy and daddy wanted her to be. She'll jest
grow up t'be another blind sheep like th'rest of them. She'll never wake up to the real, stinkin' nature of
this world. Feelin' sympathy fer somethin' like her when she would probably feel none for you is stupid.
Do ya really think someone like her wouldn't have made fun of ya, treated ya like dirt? Why let yet
another asshole join th'already bloated ranks,” he snarled, as he shoved me toward the sobbing, struggling
girl.
Despite his words ringing true for a large part of me, I still couldn't feel anything but disgust for what I
was about to witness or possibly participate in. Possible bitch or not, she was still just a child. A child who
didn't deserve to be put through the horror we were about to put her through. Whatever Otis had within
him that made him able to keep his distance from this fact was simply missing in me and maybe that was a
good thing. “I get your point but I just can't bring myself to feel that way. All I see before me is a
helpless child. That doesn't mean I won't help, it just means I'll have nightmares about it later,” I
confessed, hoping the violent beast meant what he said about me having the same privileges as everyone
else. Then again, I had yet to see anyone talk back to him the way I just had. In fact, it seemed most of
the family walked on eggshells around him.
Growling from somewhere deep inside his chest, the thin male moved behind me and leaned down to place
his stubble surrounded lips by my left ear. “Ya keep goin' like thet and yer gonna drive yerself crazy,” he
snarled, his nails digging lightly into my soft skin. Then he was releasing me to stalk towards the bucket
of water, sneering down at the shaking, moaning redhead as if she was the source of all his ire.
**“She ain't nothin' but filth, trash! Don't let her fuckin' tears fool ya! She's only cryin' in th'vain hope her
tears will stop us. I can guarantee that if we jest let her go she will learn nothin' from this! She'll go
right back t'her bullyin' and vapid dreams of findin' a husband t'live offa! Now yew jest stand there and
watch. It will only take a few moments t'break someone as soft as this,” the near albino snarled, his white
blonde hair hanging in his bearded face as he glowered at me. Then he dumped the contents of the bucket
over her head and it was all I could do not to look away when the teen convulsed and struggled in a
fruitless effort to escape what she surely thought was drowning.
Over the next few hours, things happened in a cycle. Otis would dump a full bucket over the girl's head to
simulate drowning and watch her struggle for several minutes before sitting her up so she could clear
her airways. Then he would lay her down and start all over again, ignoring her sobs and pleas. I, on the
other hand, felt my nausea and disgust rising each time he did it; barely able to keep my eyes on him as
he did it over and over. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he unbound the soaked child and
yanked her to her shaky feet. “We will do this over and over everyday until yer jest as broken as
'Strawberry' down thar,” he hissed, his cold eyes fixed on me as he licked a slow trail over her freckled,
tear stained cheek.** Then he was pulling her out of the room, leaving me feeling very confused and angry
with myself. After all of this, how could I still love him, want to save him? My only answer was a sharp
ache in my chest and I sighed.
“Leave it to you to get yourself into this type of mess… Let alone get fucking pregnant. Just how is he
gonna treat this child? How long until he tires of you,” I whispered to myself as I moved back into the
bedroom to sit on the bed. Silence was the only answer I got, making dread bloom slowly in the pit of my
gullet.

A Day of Surprises
WARNING!!: Knife Play! Blood Play!

Author's Note: Sorry for delays, lost my muse for a bit there but I feel re-energized to continue after my
break.
Chapter Eight: A Day of Surprises

When I woke up to horrible nausea the next day, I felt true panic begin to settle in. Once had already
been unusual. Twice was only confirming my suspicions of yesterday. As I ran to the bathroom to vomit
up what I had eaten last night, I heard a distressing mantra in my head over and over. 'Pregnant,
pregnant, pregnant.' Even while I vomited, the word repeated as if on a broken record. “Jesus wept,” I
gasped out as soon as the first wave passed, resting my sweaty forehead against the cool bowl of the
toilet.
“Are ya okay?” came a concerned, female voice from the door, nearly making me jump out of my skin.
Turning my head, I saw Baby leaning on a door frame with a concerned expression on her young, pale face.
Before I could even open my mouth to reply, Otis was shoving her out of the way with a heavy glare on
his visage.
“She's pregnant. Go on downstairs and fetch some tea from Mama,” he bit out, ignoring the shocked look on
his sister's face as he turned around to focus on me.
Not waiting to see what would happen, the blonde ran down the hall toward the stairs; leaving me alone
with my pissed off looking lover. “This ain't gewd… Not at all,” he hissed as he began to pace. Before I
could ask what he meant another wave of nausea was cramping my stomach and I was expelling the
contents of my stomach again.
“I cain't have ya throwin' up everything ya ate fer dinner th'other night,” he continued, his statement
outright confusing the shit out of me.
When I finished heaving, I fought to catch my breath as I met his fiery eyes. “This is sorta what morning
sickness is,” I pointed out, more than a little confused about his actions. From what I had seen, the violent
wraith was obviously very experienced in pregnancy. Why was he acting so concerned by something as
mundane as morning sickness?
“Taint usually this violent. You seem t'keep getting' sick even with yer stomach empty,” he observed as he
began to pace, his icy eyes never leaving me.
“At this rate, ya won't keep down nutrition and that'll start t'cause problems,” the killer continued,
stopping briefly to run a shaky hand through his hair.
It was at that moment Baby showed up with some tea as well as a bowl of homemade soup, an incredulous
expression on her young face. As she handed the tray to her brother, a silent communication seeming to
pass between them. Then she was leaving, giving me a last confused glance before she did so. Before I
could ask what that had been all about, he was pulling me to my feet and pushing the cup of tea into my
hands. “Take a sip of that afore ya git sick agin,” he snarled, glaring at me as I lifted the cup to my lips
reluctantly. To my shock, it went down easy; instantly settling my stomach.
“Mama used to git horrible mornin' sickness when she was pregnant. This was an old remedy her ma
taught her. Drink alla that and come back t'the room. Ya need t'git som'thin' in that stomach as soon as
possible,” the wraith bit out before turning on his heel and stomping out of the room. If I didn't know any
better, I could almost say he was worried about me.
Shaking off the silly notion, I finished the tea before brushing my teeth. Then I eyed the shower and
decided, come Hell or high water, that I was getting clean today. The rest of the family may not care
about their hygiene but I sure as shit cared about my own. So I shut the door before turning on the
faucet. As soon as it reached a temperature I liked, I switched it to the shower head and began to shuck
off my clothes. I was just about to step in when Otis came storming back into the room, the glare on his
pale, bearded face briefly turning into an expression of shock. An expression that quickly turned to
hunger before fading into his usual angry mask. It was almost as if that was the only face he felt
comfortable showing. “I was going to take a shower. I haven't bathed since I got here,” I found myself
explaining as the killer closed and locked the door behind him.
I would be lying if I said the sound of the latch hitting home didn't cause a thrill of fear to race through
my veins. It took everything I had within me to meet his eyes with my own hazel ones as I stood my
ground. To my shock, the violent male began to disrobe; the glare never leaving his grizzled face. “Go
ahead and git in,” he whispered, the softness of his voice a contradiction to the almost hateful look on his
visage. A bit confused by his behavior, I decided just to do what he said and got into the shower; closing
the curtain. I only had a few minutes before I felt his presence behind me, not even hearing him enter
the shower. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath to calm myself before reaching for a washcloth. Just as
my hand met the blue, cotton material, Otis was snatching it out of my grasp; his other hand wrapping
around my waist to hold me in place.
Then he began washing me, his hands moving over my body slowly; as if he was seeing me for the first
time. Calluses brushed my nipples as he pressed himself up against me to wash my front but his hands
didn't linger, to my surprise. Despite the erection I could feel growing against my ass, he seemed to have
no amorous intentions; his hands only moving to wash me as his chin came to rest on my right shoulder.
The psychopath inhaled deeply, growling low in his chest as his hands traveled to my junction. Not daring
to even breathe too loudly for fear of breaking the spell, I spread my legs for him and watched as he
almost lovingly washed my nethers. “You'd let me do anythin' t'ya, no struggle. If I wanted, I could fuck
ya anytime and ya wouldn't fight me. You've given yerself t'me entirely with no care if I'll kill ya in
th'end. Yer also honest with me and mine. Yer, without a doubt, the strangest bitch I've ever met but
there's something about you. Something that makes me… want,” he rasped, giving my neck a gentle bite
as his fingers briefly slipped inside me.
“I've felt empty fer years ya lil bitch. What th'fuck gives ya th'right t'make me want, t'even make me
consider being gentle to you. And this lil bastard yer carryin'… Why th'hell am I even lettin' ya keep it.
Since when did I start t'care about yer well-being enough t'actually give a shit if ya live or die?” the
murderer continued, his voice staying even despite the harshness of his words. His skilled fingers gave
my clit a brief brush before both his hands came up to rest on my womb.
Otis sighed softly, almost sounding content as he rested his lips on my pulse. “This… I never thought I'd
ever have a child, someone I could teach mah trade to and t'have a bitch like you… I might be happy for
th'first time in mah life,” he confessed before turning me around to take my lips in a bruising kiss full of
teeth.
“Don't let it go t'yer head though. Ya need t'keep in mind jest who yer dealin' with and make sure ya keep
proper respect fer me or I cain't promise I'll be able t'control mah temper,” he snarled in a slightly
unsteady voice as he broke the kiss, his hands shaking as they came up to grip my face. Then he was
reaching behind me to turn off the water and leaving the shower, completely surprising me.
Everything he has said, along with his actions went against everything I thought I knew about him and I
found myself more than a little thrown off balance by his behavior. Still stunned, I got out of the shower
as well; only to see him still standing there. “Git dressed and hurry back t'the room. We ain't got any
more time fer yer lollygagging,” the killer snarled, acting as if none of what happened between them had
happened. Sighing, but comforted by the return to the familiar; I got dressed and followed my would be
mentor back to his room. Once there, he pointed to the bed and I saw the tray with the soup on it had
been placed on the ratty mattress.
Moving a lock of my midnight hair behind my left ear, I walked over to our shared bed and picked up the
still steaming bowl in my hands. Despite the tea settling my stomach I found myself reluctant to eat
after throwing up so violently just moments before. Thankfully, the soup itself seemed to be a homemade
chicken noodle and smelled delicious; helping encourage my appetite. Taking a spoonful, I took a cautious
sip. To my relief, it was delicious and I was able to get the entire bowl down without feeling a resurgence
of my earlier nausea; Otis watching me closely the entire time. As soon as I was done, he was taking the
empty receptacle to place it on a near-by dresser. “Git into bed,” he snarled, his eyes flashing.
“But, what about the girl?” I found myself asking, blinking in shock at what had come out of my mouth.
When had these horrors become so commonplace that I now asked about them when they didn't happen on
schedule? Even the ghoul across from me seemed surprised, tilting his head to the side before answering.
“I cain't risk ya gettin' sick again so soon after gettin' some food into ya. Ya won't be able t' keep that up
fer long,” he explained, the glare on his pale face lightening just slightly.
Before I could ask what I was supposed to do, the psychotic male pointed to the bed. “I ain't gonna ask ya
again, get in th'bed before I tie you to the mattress,” he hissed, the steel in his gaze telling me he would
make very good on that threat. So, still rather confused, I lay on the grubby sheets; keeping my eyes on
him the entire time. With a man like him, I couldn't really afford to let my guard down for a second.
Even if it seemed like I had gained a good measure of his trust, Otis was capable of turning on a dime and
deciding it just wasn't worth the trouble of tolerating me. If he ever decided to do that, I certainly
didn't want to stick around for it.
“Now stay there. I'll git Baby or Mama t'keep ya company,” growled his mid-tone voice before he turned
and left the room.
Minutes later and I found myself in the strangest situation yet. Baby was sitting by the bed I shared
with her brother, chatting about movie stars she had a crush on while screams from the child Otis had
singled out came from the 'Preparation Room.' “Th' last time R.J. was in town, he got me that 'Titanic'
movie. I wouldn't mind goin' a few rounds with that Leonardo DiCaprio I tell ya that much,” she declared,
an aroused expression on her face that made me feel just plain awkward.
“Er, yeah. I think Jack was my favorite character,” I agreed, trying to ignore the feminine pleas coming
from the other room. To be honest, it kinda blew my mind that they even had movies in this world; let
alone ones that were identical to ours. Granted, I had seen they had such things in the movies based on
them but actually seeing this fact was another matter entirely. It even made me wonder if their movies
also existed in some form over here.
“So, ya caught pregnant huh? It's sorta surprisin' Otis is lettin' ya keep it,” came an amused, high voice,
drawing me out of my meta musings with a harsh snap.
Looking up at the woman beside me, I only saw genuine curiosity and surprise on her young features.
Sighing, I nodded slightly before switching my gaze to the disgusting sheets under me. All kinds of stains
littered the torn, crusty looking fabric, making my skin crawl at the thought of what some of them could
be. “Yeah, I know. He doesn't seem the fatherly type or the type to really care about a practical
stranger's safety. He's been acting so strangely lately,” I whispered, deciding to focus on my hands
instead. If I kept looking at that, I was bound to lose what little food I had ingested.
Making a noise of agreement, Baby shifted slightly to place a hand on my shoulder to gain my attention.
“Ya act as if yew know him so well all th'time, always givin' him the proper respect and even helpin' us git
new victims. Ya even act like ya know us. Yet I'm sure we've never met afore now,” she continued once
our eyes met. I could only swallow in response, feeling a bit like a trapped rabbit.
“Still, as odd as ya act, I can't be all that suspicious of ya. After all, you woulda tried to hurt us a long
before now after what you've seen. I know jest how Otis' projects go,” the blonde continued, her smile
nothing but genuine. Then she was sighing as she closed her eyes.
“Jest, don't do anythin' stupid. Or start getting' noble ideas about savin' anyone. You've… well we trust
ya lil sister,” she warned, her gaze deadly when she reopened her blue orbs.
“I won't do anything like that. I… You'll just have to take my word that I only have the best interests
of the family in my mind. You guys… you strangely mean a lot to me despite the horrible actions you've
been committing. I just… I wish…,” I struggled, suddenly finding myself just wanting to spill
everything. Surely, with how much trust they seemed to have for me, it wouldn't be a problem just to tell
them where I had come from and why I was really here.
Then again, if someone came up to me with a story like mine; I would think they were downright insane.
Still, I would have to tell them at some point. I couldn't very well hope to save them if I didn't and I
still very much did want to save them. Even with everything I had seen, the thought of betraying them
made me feel sick to my very soul. “Whatever it is, you can tell us when yer ready,” Baby whispered,
taking my hands in her own. It was at that moment that Otis decided to come back into the room, a heavy
glare on his bearded face.
“Baby, go git th'lil bitch outta there. Ya can play with her if ya want but I don't want her in here
anymore,” the murderer whispered, something in his eyes making my blood turn to ice.
The pink clad woman nodded with a smile. Then she was flouncing into the 'Preparation Room,' singing a
mindless tune as she went. This left me alone with a rather agitated psychopath, his eyes fixed on me as
he opened and closed his hands rhythmically by his sides. Before he could say anything, the cheerful
murderess was dragging her new toy behind her and out of the room; closing the door behind her. Now we
were truly alone and I could see his agitation growing, his thin chest heaving as he flared his nostrils.
Then he was rushing me, his sharp hunting knife against my throat before I knew it and his nose a hair's
breadth from touching my own as he bore down on me. “You swear t'me right now thet whatever it is yer
hidin' isn't gonna be some half ass trap to git me and mah fam'ly. Cause if it is, I c'n swear t'ya that all the
shit ya've seen will seem like a fucking hangnail compared to what I will do t'ya,” he rumbled, his mid-
tone full of threat as his near white hair came to hang in his angry but oddly handsome face.
“If you knew what I was hiding you wouldn't be accusing me of this. All I can say is that I'm here to help
if I can,” I replied with surprising calm despite the fact my heart was racing in my chest. Otis only
growled low in his throat, bearing down on his knife so the blade cut slightly into my porcelain skin.
A light hiss of pain left me but I made no move to escape or even struggle, leaving my fate solely in the
hands of this horribly insane man. It wasn't that I wanted to die, it was more like I had no real chance to
win in a fight and any resistance would have broken the very hard won trust I had gained. Even the
feeling of my own blood running down my throat didn't cause me to struggle, my eyes meeting his
steadily as I awaited his next action. I must have done something right because the monster above me
switched from rage to lust in seconds, his tongue meeting the bead of blood at the bottom and following
up to the cruel blade on her throat. Then, with a low noise that curled somewhere deep within her and
tugged, he removed the weapon to latch onto the wound itself.
A slight sucking noise filled the room as he drew blood out of the cut, the slightly painful feeling making
desire tingle slightly in my lower body. Was I really getting aroused right after he had threatened my
life and injuring me? As he pulled back to lift off my shirt and place the blade of his knife on my milky
flesh, I found that the answer was yes as he made another wound and began to lap at it. I even found my
hands tangling in his still damp hair as a moan left my lips, lust slowly overtaking my confusion. Otis
faltered for a second, seemingly confused himself. Then he was sucking even harder at the shallow cut, a
low, gruff snarl bubbling up from his chest as he brushed my right nipple with a callused thumb.
Another line of pain soon burned across the other side of my chest and I realized this was quickly
turning into a very strange, sexual situation. Even now I found my back arching as the pool of desire
inside me formed into a burning coil that was slowly tightening. “Fuck, Otis,” came out of my mouth in a
breathy sigh as he moved to lick that wound next. The ghoul's only response was to let out a gruff noise
as his tongue delved into the shallow valley of the slice, his knee parting my thighs so he could settle
between them. Then his palms were massaging my sizable breasts, the rough calluses on his palms brushing
my sensitive nipples and causing sparks of lust to race through my blood to assimilate with the pulsing
coil of need clenching my womb.
With a low, long snarl that sounded more animal than human, the albino creature released the wound to
attack my left nipple; his teeth clamping down painfully. To my utter horror and fascination, the sharp
jolt of pain drew an actual moan from me as I felt the walls of my womanhood practically shudder from
the surge of need that came with it. This seemed to cause a pleasured sound to bubble up from the bony
killer as he released my abused bud to suckle on it, his tongue soothing the throbbing bite. Releasing a
moan of his own, Otis fumbled with my jeans before unfastening them and pulling them down. He only let
go of my nipple to sit up and remove his own clothes, his icy eyes glittering as they roved over my fish-
belly body.
I was a pasty white, almost as pale as Otis and was slightly overweight; a bit of fat clinging to my hips,
belly and breasts. The infamous murderer, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. He was thin almost
to the point of being dangerous, his skeleton clearly visible under his tight, marble skin. It wasn't to the
point of seeing every single detail but it wouldn't take much further to get to that point. Just looking at
him made concern fill me and I found myself sitting up slightly as my hand touched his ribs of its own
accord. “You really need to eat more yourself…,” I whispered in a soft voice, avoiding his gaze as I
watched my hand move up to one of his pink nipples as if it were some alien being that had attached itself
to me. Then my thumb brushed the small nodule, eliciting a slight gasp from the monster.
I froze in that moment, unsure if I was overstepping any invisible boundaries. I had just touched him
without being asked when he was the one who normally took control during sex. All at once I was hit
with the extreme urge to hide and it was all I could do to cautiously pull my hand back, forcing myself to
stay in place with sheer will alone. Before I could get far, however, the male across from me snatched my
wrist in a nearly painful grip. Then he was placing my palm back where it had been, leaning into my touch
as his free hand tilted my chin up. As my hazel eyes met his azure ones, I could see burning lust and a
deep need that made my mouth go dry. “Go ahead…,” he rasped, his breath slightly ragged and he slowly
released me entirely. Licking my lips, I kept my eyes locked with his as I cautiously brushed his nipple
again.
To my shock, his eyes dilated instantly and a shaky breath huffed from him as he seemed to fight against
a moan. It was then I realized that I was probably one of the very few, if not the only one, to touch him
with passion in a very long time or ever. So, only feeling slightly bolder, I lowered myself to his chest;
keeping my eyes locked with his as I tentatively licked the small bump I had been playing with. This drew
a sharp hiss as one of his hands came to tangle in my hair. To my surprise, he didn't hold me in place; only
tangled his fingers in my ebony locks as if he needed something to hang onto. I could only shudder in
response, his reactions causing my nethers to pulse with almost painful need. The fact I was causing this
in a beast like him turned me on something fierce and I found myself wanting to explore more of him.
Releasing his flesh, I kept my gaze on his as I nibbled my way across his bony, hairless chest. Once I
reached his other nipple, I closed my teeth around it and gave a rough bite. Otis arched in response, a
very quiet moan leaving his mouth as his hand tightened painfully in my hair. “Be as rough as ya want
with me. Bite me, scratch me, draw blood. I won't punish ya, jest fuckin' hurt me,” he rasped as he began to
pant raggedly. Blinking, I pulled away to look at him before motioning for him to lay down. A request he
practically scrambled to fulfill, shocking the fuck out of me in the process. In fact, just seeing the mighty
man so vulnerable made me feel both strange and exhilarated. So, taking a deep breath, I clambered onto
of him and closed my eyes as I gathered my courage.
To tell the truth, I had never even thought of harming my partner for sexual gratification or vice versa.
Still, I had read about it and found myself curious; especially after what had happened with the knife
earlier. So, opening my green eyes, I slowly raked my nails lightly down his chest to test both their
sharpness and his tolerance. Otis huffed impatiently in response, giving a look that told me I hadn't used
nearly enough force for his taste. “It'll take more'n that t'hurt me ya dumb whore. Now fuckin' hurt me!”
he rumbled, his voice a low, deadly snarl. Nodding to show I understood, I raked my nails down his torso
as hard as I could; watching in fascination as he arched into me.
“Aaaahn, yeah. Jest like thet. Keep goin' til ya draw blood,” came his urgent voice, his manhood a steel rod
beneath me. Swallowing, I did it again even harder; not sure how to feel about the lust burning like fire
in my veins.
This entire situation was so strange but I couldn't help but slightly enjoy the rush of adrenaline this was
giving me. So, keeping my gaze on his face, I ran my nails down his chest again; this time drawing a little
bit of blood. “Ah, fuck. Lick them like I did with you,” the murderer demanded, his hands fisting in the
filthy bedding below him. This request gave me pause. This small amount of blood wasn't enough to make
me nauseous but the thought of it certainly did. Still, it wouldn't be much different than sucking on a
paper cut due to the wounds being so small. Leaning forward, I gave one of the smaller scratches a slow
lick; surprised to find the taste wasn't that bad. Slightly salty and coppery but not as bad as I had
expected.
Soon I was lapping at each small bead of blood on him, shuddering slightly when the wraith placed his
hands on my head. The next thing I knew, I was on my back as he entered me; another animalistic sound
ripping from deep in his chest when he hilted. Then he was taking me hard and fast, biting the junction
where my neck met my shoulder hard. Before I knew it, I was cumming hard; screaming his name loud
enough that I'm sure the neighbors hundreds of miles away heard it. I was so overwhelmed by pain and
pleasure that I almost missed him sighing out my own name as he spilled himself inside me. It was only a
few seconds later that he pulled out, giving my face a hard but affectionate pat before pulling his pants
and tank top back on. “Come with me, we're goin' out fer some supplies,” he growled out, his words
befuddling me more than anything else had so far.
From everything I knew because of the movies, Otis barely left his room and most certainly never left
the property; all facts that had been faithfully backed up so far. This whole thing seemed wildly out of
character. It was only sheer habit that got me out of the bed and dressed, my body following him
mechanically while my brain still tried to come to terms with what we were doing. It was only after we
had passed the end of the driveway that it truly hit me that we were really leaving temporarily. “I
don't like leavin' if I don't hafta but I gotta git some shit that th'others jest can't git fer me,” he explained
in a terse tone, a huge cowboy hat on his head to shield his pale skin from the sun. I could only nod as I
followed, wondering just where the Hell we were going that the other family members couldn't or didn't
want to.

Down the Terrible Rabbit Hole

WARNING!!: Abuse!! Threatening with Weapon! Hitting! Forced Necrophilia! Brainwashing of a Minor!
Minor2! More extreme bits marked with **.

Author's Note: All I can say is, this chapter is pretty dark.

Chapter Nine: Down the Terrible Rabbit Hole

As it turned out, Otis led me into a den of extremely psychotic, unpredictable men. As soon as we walked
in, I could feel angry, cold eyes fixing on me; as if assessing if I had been brought there for them. Some
part of me had the same suspicion and I felt myself stiffening as fear began to curl within me like a living
thing. It was only when the killer to my right pulled me into a rough, possessive kiss that I calmed down.
With him placing such a blatant claim on me, there would be very little left in the room that would be
willing to fuck with me. My suspicions were only confirmed when he released me and I was able to look
around once more. Where there was once open hostility and even hunger, there was now avoidance and
disinterest.
With a sneer on his grizzled, pale face, the wraith led me into the veritable tiger pit by the arm and I
had to fight my instinct to run. Eventually, he led me to a table that had one man and a lot of women
sitting at it. To my horror and slight amusement, the guy in the middle of the whores was none other
that Captain Spaulding. The look of complete shock of his greasepaint coated face was nearly enough to
make me laugh despite the direness of the situation and I had to literally bite my tongue to stop the
terrible urge. His faded blue eyes quickly moved to the monster beside me and his black lips pursed as a
muscle began to tick in his white coated cheek. “I need t' talk t'ya boi. Put yer whore in wi' mine and let's
have a lil palaver,” the clown gritted out, his inky eyes shining with malice as he gestured to the drugged
out women surrounding him.
They all had identical empty gazes on their pale faces, their clothes hanging off them to expose a bare
breast or riding up to reveal the fact they hand no underwear on. In fact, all of them sat with their legs
splayed; showing off that commando seemed to be the wardrobe of choice around here. Most of them had
track marks in their arms and all of them had the eyes of someone who had long retreated into their
mind to defend themselves. Just being compared to these shells of human beings made rage and
indignation percolate within my veins. I was about to open my mouth to tell this disgusting man off when
I felt Otis place an arm in front of me, as if he could sense what I was about to do. “Did ya jest compare
my bitch t'the lil puppets who don't even know what day it is? Whatever ya gotta say t'me ya can say
around her,” the wraith informed, wrapping a steel beam of an arm around me to hold me against his side.
When I looked up, I saw his blue eyes practically spitting fire as his jaw tensed under a bearded cheek.
Spaulding growled low in his chest at the challenge before pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out
a frustrated sounding noise. “Yer walkin' a real thin line boi. I sent this lil piece t'yer fam'ly cause I
thought y'all were lookin' fer a new victim. Now I see her walkin' beside ya as if she has every right to!
Don't tell me ya forgot what happened last time already,” the breaded, paint coated man bit out, his voice
no more than a gravelly growl. The pasty white male on my right went board stiff for a few moments
before a cruel smile curled his lips, a sight that made me shudder internally. Every time that look had
come across his face it had never meant anything good.
“I ain't never forgot pops. This lil bitch has been through a lot and seen even more. She's proven herself
trustworthy so go ahead and let fly. I ain't got all day t'sit here and listen t'ya flap yer fuckin' jaws. I
came here fer more guns, ammo as well as other supplies; not t'hear ya talk 'bout shit that ain't yer
business,” the psychotic male bit out, the expression on his visage speaking volumes about his current
mood.
Captain Spaulding flared his nostrils in response before shooting to his feet and slamming his open palms
down on the table loudly. “Yer gonna risk th'safety of my fam'ly fer a piece of ass?! I'm fucking surprised
at ya boi! I though ya had a fuckin' better head on yer shoulders after th' last time shit like this burned
yer ass,” the balding male continued, his fury filled eyes moving to me before he started to move out from
behind the table. He only made it a few steps before Otis flat out tackled him, resulting in an all out
brawl. I could only watch as the punches flew, stiffening slightly when I felt a strange hand wrapping
around my waist.
Looking up, I saw a horrifically ugly man leering down at me; something strangely familiar about the
badly sewn skin mask hanging from his face. An almost chewed looking tongue came out to lick at the face
covering his deformed features. The skin was leathery and stitched together poorly, barely held into a
semblance of a mask. It almost looked like… Then it dawned on me and I barely controlled my urge to
back away from the creature nearly leering at me. The man holding me was none other than Leatherface,
a fact that didn't really surprise me given what kind of universe I was in; let alone the state.
Unfortunately I saw he had his brother, “Chop Top”, right behind him.
While he hadn't noticed me yet, it wouldn't take long for the man who eerily resembled Otis to look our
way. Just then, the balding man turned his head to look at me; revealing the ever growing hole of skin he
had peeled away from the metal plate in his head. A sickly grin curled his lips, revealing teeth even more
rotten than Otis'. “Ya found yerself a purty lil thang Leatherface,” he cooed, pulling out a metal coat
hanger to scratch at the edge of ragged skin in what was left of his scalp with the hook end. The half-wit
holding me nodded vigorously before shoving me toward the ghoul that was dressed like someone that
crawled straight out of the sixties. The taller, thin male grabbed me easily, the scent of his rancid breath
filling my nose and very nearly making me vomit.
“Jest wut is a lil thang like yew doin' in a place like this?” he whispered, his voice lighter and slightly
more raspy than the killer I had come with but the uncanny resemblance between the two still made my
skin crawl.
In my reality, it was so strange to think of it that way, they had been played by the same actor so the
resemblance had made sense but here was different. It made no sense why they looked alike other than
simple coincidence. Or there was another, much stranger explanation. My realm could possibly influence
this one or vice versa. I had already thought something like this with movies but I had never really
thought it went further than Otis' family. Seeing Leatherface and Chop Top changed things entirely. I
had to start entertaining the thought that this was more than simply entering a movie. I had entered an
entirely different world. One that held fictional characters living their lives, lives our own directors
had made into movies with no knowledge their characters were real. If I explored further into this
world, would I see other characters?
A sudden, low snarl brought me back to the present and I saw Otis pulling himself away from a battered
looking Spaulding. Chop Top, who was still holding me, let out a chuckle as he licked my cheek with his
gross feeling tongue. “She yers pretty boi? Ya know, ya still owe me fer stealing mah best knife. If'n ya let
me have a quick round with yer lil slut here we c'n call it square,” the bearded monster holding me
rasped, his words sending a chill through my blood. Yet, underneath that, there was the faintest thread
of arousal. A fact that honestly horrified me.
“She ain't up fer barter metal head. I already squared with ya about that ol' shiv years ago. Though, I can
sure as shit make sure th'other side of yer head matches the steel part of your skull if'n ya wanna pursue
th'matter,” the nearly albino wraith hissed, his hand reaching for the hunting knife secured to his side.
Chop Top only grinned sickly spinning me to face him before planting a disgusting tasting kiss to my lips.
Then he was shoving me away and motioning to his brother as he stalked off. Otis only growled behind me
as he roughly shoved me behind his back. As soon as the pair was gone, the psychotic male was turning to
glower at the overweight clown pulling himself off the tile floor. “Jest give me what I came here fer or
I'm gonna make sure yer insides become yer outsides,” the now shaking ghoul rasped, his hands clenching
into tight fists as he breathed heavily. Thankfully all the fight seemed to have been beaten out of
Spaulding and he nodded before pulling a bag from under the table.
“Fine, jest don't come cryin' t'me when this piece of ass betrays ya'll,” rasped the bald asshole, shoving the
paper sack into Otis' hands. Both his eyes had been blacked and his lip had been split, making him look even
more angry and dangerous.
The rail thin wraith grabbed the bag before dragging me out by my arm, a furious expression on he
bearded visage as he strode forward. As soon as we were outside, he was flinging me in front of him; his
flaxen hair hanging in his face as he glowered at me. Before I could even ask what was wrong, he was on
me; gripping my upper arms in an almost painful grasp. “I could smell yer arousal in there clear as day.
What th' fuck is goin' on between you and that useless sack of shit?” he snarled, taking me by complete
shock.
“What are you talking about? I just met him today,” I responded, the slight lie feeling like dirt in my
mouth. Technically it was true, I had never actually met Chop Top but I certainly knew who he was. In
fact, I had the slightest crush on the twisted man; his real life resemblance to Otis not helping that one
bit.
“I don't fuckin' believe you. Yer fuckin' lyin' t'me in some way and I don't much appreciate it. Now, ya tell
me how ya know that piece of shit!” he hissed, rage burning in his ice blue eyes as his face came within
inches of mine.
My heart began to race as fear made my vision go dark. Was this it? Was I going to have to tell this
murderer that I came from another reality where he and Chop Top existed only in movies. All at once
my brain seemed to stall as my breathing halted. My life practically flashed in front my eyes before I
simply found myself falling into an abyss of darkness. I had no clue I had really fainted in my cruel
lover's arms, making his rage disappear for instant worry. “Raven ya useless whore, wake up!” he snarled,
shaking me harshly and getting no response for his troubles. Then he was picking my limp body up and
carrying me back to the house as fast as he could run, names aimed at me spilling from his lips non-stop.
I was entirely unaware of this, floating in a dark void that felt oddly like lounging in a warm bath.
While it was rather soothing, something just felt off and I felt my brow wrinkle slightly as my eyes
remained shut. After some time, I could vaguely hear a familiar, male voice screaming expletives at me
while two different females voices tried to reason with him. “Otis,” left my mouth as my physical eyes
opened and I felt a strange sense of deja-vu.
“You fuckin' slut! Ya fuckin' wake up right the fuck now or I'll give ya a fuckin' reason t'be unconscious,”
screamed the voice of the man I had come to this world to save.
“Otis please! Take it easy! If ya stress her out in her condition…,” soothed Baby's voice as my vision
slowly returned along with my memories.
Immediately, I assumed Otis was still angry about my encounter with a certain member of an infamous
family and I slowly sat up with an apology on my lips. “I'm so…,” I began, only to be cut off as the ghoul
tore himself free from his mother and sister to rush me; nearly crushing the life out of me as he took me
into a tight hold. A hold that couldn't be called a hug by any stretch of the imagination.
“I've had e-fuckin'-nough of alla this shit,” he snarled as I struggled to breathe, fairly certain my ribs
were close to breaking.
“Otis!” Mama admonished, her voice sounding muffled through my haze of confusion and my body
demanding air.
“No Mama! We oughta leave naow,” Baby urged, tugging the older woman out of the room and shutting the
door.
This left me alone with a very pissed off psychopath who was very slowly crushing the life out of me.
Just as my vision started to go black, he was releasing me with a low snarl; his knife coming to rest
against my throat instead. Licking my dry lips as my heart raced in my chest, I lifted my hazel eyes to
look at him; squeaking softly at the sheer rage burning in his icy eyes. Yet, under that, there was the
faintest glimmer of concern; something I quickly shoved away as wishful thinking. “Ya tell me jest what
th'fuck is goin' on right now! Why th'fuck were ya turned on by Chop Top? Why do ya seem t'know so much
'bout me an' mine? Why th'hell did ya even want t'be here so much t'begin with? Ya always seem t'know
jest how to act or what t'say and I wanna know why,” snarled the crazed wraith, his grimy teeth bared as
he bore down on the blade on my throat.
I didn't even dare to swallow, the barest movement risking a deep cut from the sharp weapon. Instead, I
met his gaze as steadily as I could; forcing myself to remain calm despite the extreme terror singing
through my veins. “Its a very long story and I'm not sure I should tell you all of it. Maybe, by the time I
come to the end, you'll come to understand why some parts have to be kept to myself for now,” I replied
in a surprisingly neutral, yet submissive tone.
“I'm listenin' but ya better not fuckin' lie t'me,” he hissed, backing off on the knife a bit but not moving it
from my neck.
“I don't even know where to start. I'm, uh, not from your world. I, er, come from a world where… you
and your family only exist in a movie. The movie itself seems to be about a particular night in your guys'
lives. A night that happens on Halloween,” I began, pausing to allow what I had said to sink in.
Otis only frowned deeply at me, his nostrils flared as his angry eyes searched me for any trace of a lie.
Something he saw must have surprised him as his furious expression very briefly became one of shock.
“Well, how th'hell did ya get here?” he bit out, the knife moving down to rest on my collarbone.
“That's where shit becomes… complicated. The movie had a sequel and things happened that I really
didn't like. I had grown attached to you because of the movies. I had no worldly clue you even existed
until I… I made a wish and ended up here,” I finished, embarrassment tinging my voice. I left out the
part about Halloween causing the incident or the fact they would end up dead. If I told him something
like that so soon, he would take steps to prevent it and the pivotal Halloween event might never happen.
While that may seem like a good thing, I had no idea what repercussions that could have on events in the
time-line. Right now, I was essentially in the past and I had to be careful not to disrupt the future too
much; not that what I had planned wasn't going to disrupt it anyway. That didn't mean I couldn't
mitigate the damage.
“A wish… A movie and a fuckin' wish… Ya still didn't say why ya know Chop Top,” Otis whispered, his
lips pursed as he lowered his head so his flaxen hair blocked his face.
“He and his family are from a movie series. He was, um, played by the same actor who played you,” I
responded quietly, watching him closely. Though, if he slit my throat there wouldn't be much I could do
to fight him; not that I would in the first place.
The bony male snorted before his blazing eyes once again met mine. He bared his yellow/green teeth at
me as what seemed like an eternity of silence passed between us. Then he was slapping me hard, knocking
me onto the stolen clothes that had once been my bed. With a dangerous sound, he stomped off to the
door; slamming it shut as he left. I could only lay there, clutching my cheek as my other hand came to
rest protectively over my stomach. Just what on Earth had that reaction meant? Was I about to get
carted to the basement with the rest? Was I fated to give birth in the straw floored cage, not even Otis
there to help? Shuddering at the thought, I curled into a fetal ball as I kept an eye on the door.
Whatever happened, I wouldn't fight it. I only hoped I could still save them.
After what seemed like an endless amount of time, I heard two sets of footsteps coming up to stairs along
with the very faint sound of a female crying. There was also another sound I couldn't identify, sounding
almost like something heavy was being dragged along the floor. Just hearing it made my terror increase
and I slowly got to my feet, brushing off my black jeans in an effort to center myself. If I showed the
slightest sign of fear, it was very likely to make things so much worse. So I was facing him when he
walked in dragging a body; the redhead he had been breaking following placidly behind him. Soft sobs left
the teen but she made no move to escape, keeping her gaze fixed on the stained, hardwood floor. Otis
sneered at her as he dropped the corpse he was dragging, his gaze switching to me for a split moment.
Before he could even say anything, I was moving to his side; keeping my brown green eyes fixed on his ice
blue ones. This seemed to startle him, his body going stiff for a moment before he was gesturing to the
dead female he had drug in. “I'll get this, you steer her into th'room,” he ordered, his eyes holding
something I couldn't clearly define.
**Just relieved I wasn't going to be turned into a victim just yet, I gently took hold of the naked teens
shoulders; leading her into the 'Preparation Room.' The monster wasn't far behind, dragging the rotting
corpse behind him. Then he was dropping it on the floor, revealing it had been rotting for a bit; the sight
of the peeling, rancid flesh nearly making me gag. “Get Red there between her legs and start making out
with the corpse,” he snarled, his words making my skin grow cold as nausea began to fill the pit of my
stomach. Licking my lips and taking a breath through my mouth to avoid the smell, I position the sniffling
child between the legs of the female. She wasn't one of the teens the family had caught, in fact I didn't
recognize her at all. She must have died some time before I had gone to the basement but after I had
arrived.
To my surprise, redhead did as Otis had ordered without me having to urge her; the sounds of licking
filling the room as I moved to the head. Just looking at her slightly puffy, cracked skin made me want to
vomit; let alone the slightly sickly sweet smell that usually came from meat just starting to go bad.
Shaking myself, I kept my eyes open as my lips met the body's; doing my best not to think about the very
faint bad taste that came from the former person's mouth. While I was doing this, the murderer that had
orchestrated this moved behind me and knelt over me. One of his hands came up to my head, petting
gently instead of fisting in my hair and yanking like I had expected. “Even now, when you aren't sure if I
believe ya, you still obey me without question. Sit up,” he breathed, his voice oddly calm as I pulled away
from the dead female as slowly as I could make myself go.**
Suddenly he was handing me his knife, his upper lip lifting as he prowled to the redhead in front of me
and between the deceased woman's legs. “Slit yer own throat while I watch,” rasped his deadly serious
voice, his piercing orbs locked on me as he shoved the child's face into the dead brunette's junction. I
could only widen my eyes, licking my lips as I mechanically raised the cruelly sharp instrument to the
tender skin of my throat. I didn't bother to beg, plead or even ask if he was sure, my heart racing in my
chest as I pressed the tip into my porcelain flesh. The psychopath watched my action's closely and I took
a deep breath as I closed my eyes, steadying my grip on the hilt of the knife as I prepared myself to take
my own life.
The next thing I knew, the weapon had been smacked out of my hands and I found myself on my back on
the hardwood floor; a pair of rough hands gripping my face painfully. I opened my eyes to see Otis' face
mere inches from my own, his bony chest heaving as he glowered down at me. Intense rage shined in his
icy eyes, his recently cleaned hair hanging in his stubble covered face. A low, animalistic nose bubbled up
from the depths of his chest, his grip tightening on my face and drawing an unconscious whimper of pain
from me. Then we just sat there, only the sounds of 'Red' diligently doing as she was told filling the small
room; a seemingly endless amount of silence passing between us. “Why…,” he bit out, sounding more
angry than inquisitive.
“Because you told me to,” I replied simply, my words seeming to displease the killer hovering above me.
“That's not what I meant! Why did ya even come here! Why do ya continue t'do as I ask? Why the ever
lovin' fuck would you be willing t'kill yerself without so much as a peep to th'contrary?” he continued, his
blunt nails digging slightly into my cheeks as his grip on my face grew still tighter.
“Since when has pleading for anything done anything but cause noise and anger in this house? I know
better. I don't want to die but I don't want to make things worse for myself by disobeying you. As for
why I came here… Fuck, that's a hard one to answer. After everything I've seen and participated in, I
wonder what kind of sick person I am to still feel the way I do about you,” I found myself responding
calmly, despite feeling very much like I was going to faint. An odd tingling had filled my extremities and
face, my vision also fading slightly as I felt my consciousness beginning to float away from my body. I
only stayed conscious through sheer determination and fear of what he would do to me if I dared pass
out again.
“And jest how do ya feel 'bout me?” rasped the killer, 'Red' still mindlessly accomplishing her task behind
him.
“Are you sure you're ready for that answer Otis?” I whispered, his angry glare the only answer I got.
Licking my lips, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath; preparing myself for the worst.
“I love you Otis. I honestly don't know why but I do and this pregnancy has only made that emotion
stronger,” I sighed, bracing myself for the sensation of choking on my own blood as my throat was slit.
Only, nothing happened.
After a long, eerie stretch of silence filled with wet licking noises, I opened one of my hazel eyes; gasping
at what I saw. Otis' frown had eased and he was looking at me with what I could only call astonishment
and disbelief. Then he was tearing himself off me to pull the teen up by her orangish locks, dragging her
out of the room and leaving me with the body. Shuddering, I got to my feet; unsure if I should grab the
body and follow or wait for him. I remembered something about lifting heavy things being bad for
pregnant women and wondered if the wraith knew about it. Just as I was about to simply just grab an
ankle and start dragging, the rail thin beast came back with R.J.; pointing to the corpse with an impatient
expression. The hulking, bearskin wearing man merely shrugged before hefting her over his shoulder and
leaving.
Before I knew it, I found myself dragged bodily back into the bedroom and thrown onto the mattress.
“None of what ya say makes any sense but I jest don't see any lie on yer face. I wanted t'make ya show me
you were lyin'. Wanted t'crack whatever wall you had put up and expose you cause nothin' ya coulda told
me could be possible. Ya fuckin' surprised me by obeyin' like that without even beggin' me fer another
chance. Ya acted as if ya had known me fer years, had acted like that ever since ya came here. Now ya
fuckin' tell me yer puttin' yerself through alla this Hell 'cause ya fuckin' love me?!” he snarled, his hands
flexing before he practically pounced me. Then his lips were meeting mine roughly, his hands tearing off
my clothes. I only had a second to be grateful for the fact that they were from the grungy pile on the
floor and not my new ones before he was entering me. Still, as he took me with little preparation, I could
only feel relief that he believed me. I never noticed the almost affectionate look he was giving me.

Fresh Meat
Author's Note: Minor time skips herein. Getting closer to that fateful Halloween night.

Chapter Ten: Fresh Meat

Weeks went by and I found myself falling into a strange routine. I would wake up to Otis over me with a
tray that held soup and tea Mama had made to help with my morning sickness, his blue eyes glaring at
me. It was almost as if he blamed me for the indignity of having to bring me food. After I had eaten, the
killer would go to the basement to bring up one of the teens for us to torture. His favorite seemed to be
the little redhead, the poor girl being more like an obedient puppet than a person. One by one, the teens
began to die; the other women in the cage having died days prior. It wasn't too long that I started to
wonder if these were the same cheerleaders that had been mentioned in the movie. What if there had
been another group or, even worse, what if the movies weren't very accurate to events that happened?
What if Rejects never took place and I had done all of this for nothing?
At the end of the second month of my stay with the family, there were only a few of the victims left;
making me even more nervous. So nervous that I started having horrible nightmares. Yeah, go figure that
out. What happened before gave me no nightmares and the fear of the unknown did. Still, the dreams
were about Otis, seeing him shot in the chest or head and slowly falling backwards; a surprised look on his
face as the life went out of his sky blue eyes. I would often cry out or whimper in my sleep, startling
awake when the psychotic male behind me wrapped a strong, wiry arm around my waist to pull me tight
against his body. At first I had been utterly shocked by this action but it soon became so commonplace
that I thought nothing of it.
As my third month passed with the family, I found myself settling in. As horrible as the things I had
done and seen were, this strangely felt like home. The family all began to treat me as if I fit in, with the
obvious exception of Grandpa. I had even started helping Mama cook and she had asked me what my
birthday was. Baby and I were now like sisters, often watching movies together and having a discussion
about which boys were the cutest. Otis had also started to treat me differently. Don't get me wrong, he
didn't fall on one knee and declare his love for me or anything. He just became almost affectionate, at
least for him.
At some point during my fifth month with them, the ruthless killer had started nearly embracing me.
Often, while we were torturing one of the victims, he would come up behind me and wrap his arms around
me. Granted its more of a hold than an actual embrace and the first time he had done it, I jumped out of
my skin. An action that he seemed more amused by than offended. He had even gone so far as to smile at
me once but that might have been more of a twitch. I was also involved in more projects than his sister,
an impressive feat for an outsider. As weird as it was, this felt more like my family than even my own.
The only thing that truly bothered me, besides the acts I participated in, was the fact that my diet more
than likely consisted of mostly human meat.
This morning, I woke up to Otis standing over me with a tray in his hands like usual. On the tray was a
bowl of soup and some tea that Mama had made to soothe my morning sickness. The wraith glared down
at me, his normal disdainful expression and I internally shook my head. Sighing, I slowly sat up and
stretched before taking the platter from his hands. “Thanks Otis,” I murmured, brushing a lock of my
ebony hair behind my ear before I took a sip of tea. Whatever nausea was brewing quickly faded and I
found myself silently thanking the matron downstairs as well. The ghoul only grunted in response before
stalking out of the room to get one of the victims from the basement. He was more than likely going to
bring up 'Red' but I had no idea about anything else he had planned. The one thing I had learned about the
man was that he was often spontaneous with his ideas for torture and cruelty.
Sighing again, I straightened slowly before gingerly sipping at the bowl of soup. Thankfully my contrary
stomach had calmed enough for me to eat. I probably had only a few days left of the morning sickness left
and I honestly found myself relieved by this fact. Overall, I would be much happier when the whole
ordeal of pregnancy was over, let alone the horrible Halloween night that was inching ever closer. We
had about a week and a half left until October and I shuddered at what I would more than likely be
obliged to do. Looking down at my half full bowl of food, I found I had quite lost my appetite. Still, I had
no choice but to eat it. If I didn't, my violent lover would more than likely force feed me. In fact, he had
done it before with absolutely no remorse for when I ended up vomiting on his floor. Thankfully he
hadn't made me lick the mess up with my tongue.
Suddenly the man himself came bursting into the room, dragging a female behind him I had never seen
before as 'Red' followed placidly. Instantly, a wash of fear flooded my body as I found that I kind of
recognized her. While I had never paid that much attention to the victims from the movies, I knew I had
definitely seen her face before. She was one of the teens Otis had berated in a pseudo flashback. Just
seeing her let me know that some events were right on the money. While that should have assured me,
all I could feel was a sense of dread. The tank top wearing murderer must have seen my expression
because he shoved his bound victim and 'Red' into the Preparation Room before walking towards me. “Ya
look like you've seen a fucking ghost,” he snarled as he grabbed my left upper arm in a firm grip.
“Just trust me when I say things are going exactly according to plan,” I replied, doing my best to shake
off the dread I felt. I had no idea of knowing how long it would be before the police would show up at the
ranch and that fact scared me more than anything else.
“Ya look fuckin' scared outta yer mind. Is she involved in th'reason why ya came here?” the ghoul hissed,
worry very briefly flashing through his icy orbs.
“A bit. Look, her being here just means we're getting closer to a pivotal event and that everything is
going well,” came my reply as he dragged me into the room.
Before he could ask anything else, R.J. was shoving the other teens in with us; seemingly immune to the
glare his brother gave him. Soon the small space was too full of screaming and pleading for anything to be
heard properly. Snarling, Otis hollered for quiet as the bearskin wearing man who had brought them
simply took his leave. Unfortunately this new-found peace didn't last long as the newcomers' gazes
traveled to me. Perhaps seeing the kindness and compassion that still clung to my heart, the teens rushed
toward me as one entity; all begging for their lives at once. They got within inches of touching me before
my violent lover was placing himself between me and them. Then he was pulling out his knife, visibly
bristling at the whimpering girls. “She ain't here t'help ya, yew silly whores. Do yew really think I would
let her roam free if there were any doubt in my mind of her loyalty to me and mah fam'ly?” the wraith
snarled, taking an almost protective stance as he glared the young women down.
Unsurprisingly, the group of six back off immediately; varying expressions of horror on their too young
faces. After what I had seen the first group go through, I felt my stomach lurch at the thought of the
horrors these girls would soon be subjected to. Truly no one could do anything to deserve what they
would be put through. “Yer no better than th'shit on th'bottom of my boot. Now git back over there where
ya belong. As for you…,” the beast continued, his voice becoming a faded growl as my vision began to
blur. I only came back to reality when a pair of rough hands landed on my shoulders.
“Hey…,” rasped an uncertain, male voice as the hands moved up to grip my face. This brought me sharply
back to what was happening around me.
Ice blue eyes met my brown-green ones as he seemed to be internally assessing something. Then his cold
eyes were narrowing as disgust and impatience filled his gaze. “Go fuckin' help Baby,” he hissed, clearly
dismissing me as he released my face, turned on his heel and headed back to the small group of young
victims. I didn't dare argue, merely nodded before walking out of the room as fast as I could. Since I had
come here, Otis had only given me such a nasty glare in the very beginning. Needless to say, such an
action didn't necessarily improve my confidence about current events. It wasn't that things were going
wrong, it was the fact things were starting to go far too correctly. It was extremely disconcerting, not
to mention mind-bending. The fact that events were beginning to more resemble the two films I was
familiar with was much more scary than what was to come simply because of the implications. Just what
the fuck had I accidentally stumbled onto?
I didn't have too long to ponder this question, finding myself outside Baby's room with no worldly
memory of how I had gotten there. Shaking myself free of my thoughts, I raised my hand to knock while
pursing my lips. I couldn't afford to keep allowing myself to get distracted like this, not when there was
so much going on. If my attention kept lapsing, I was bound to get myself into a lot of trouble. Just before
my knuckles would have hit the stained wood, I was turned around roughly to face 'Grandpa'. The grizzled
elder was glowering at me from under his bushy eyebrows, his stubble dusted mouth turned down in
displeasure. Before I could do or say anything, a fist came flying at my face and everything went dark.
I woke up some time later somewhere else in the house, my head throbbing like a rotten tooth. Groaning
as I looked around the inky black room, I tried to sit up; only to find myself bound to a metal table. Fear
flooded my system in an instant as I tried to feel around with my fingers to try to get an idea of what
was holding me down. When the tips of my appendages touched metal cuffs I came very close to losing my
mind right then and there. It took all my inner faculties to not start screaming from the sheer panic
beginning to fill my body. Instead, I closed my eyes for a few moments in the hopes that it would help me
to see in this inky void surrounding me. When I reopened them, 'Grandpa's' grizzled face was right in front
of mine.
The man looked nearly crazed, his faded, blue eyes full of rage and outright hatred. His upper lip curled
to reveal his rotting teeth. The longer facial hair on his cheeks only added to the surrealness the
darkness gave his face and I felt my heart practically lurch against my ribcage. In a split second, the
room I was in was flooded with light; revealing the fact that I had been taken to one of the family's
many sheds. It would be a miracle if anyone figured out what happened, let alone found where I had been
taken in time to save me from whatever he had planned. My only hope was to try to reason with this man
or stall him. “Yew lil bitch. Yer pullin' th'wool over alla their eyes and makin' them accept ya as part of
th'fam'ly but I know better. This ain't mah first fuckin' rodeo and ya ain't gonna fool me! Yer fuckin'
plannin' somethin' and that piece of shit upstairs has lost his guts t'deal with ya. Jest like him t'leave
th'dirty work up t'me,” the aged killer snarled, his raspy voice full of venom as he pulled out a nasty
looking weapon.
Instead of screaming for my life or begging, I met his gaze steadily and took a deep breath to steady my
nerves. “Do you really think the family will let you get away with killing me?” came out of my mouth,
much more steady and demanding than I actually felt at the moment. To my relief, the elderly male
paused; giving me a pissed, unsure look as the knife wavered in his hand.
“I'm pregnant you know. I'm not so sure Mama, Baby or Otis thanking you for killing the child either,” I
continued, not struggling at all as our eyes locked. I could see fear slowly replace the righteous rage
that was on his face.
“Yer a fuckin' liar,” he snarled, spittle hitting my pale face as he tightened his grip on the hilt of his blade
before he placed the tip on my jugular.
He began to press down on the sharp implement before we heard a faint, male voice in the distance. A
voice that sounded an awful lot like Otis'. “OTIS!!” I screamed with all my might before I could stop
myself. This earned me a sharp slap as the edge of the blade sliced shallowly into my milky skin.
“What th'fuck do ya even think yer doin'?! Thet boi only cares 'bout Baby and Mama. He learned his lesson
long ago 'bout truckin' with th' likes of yew,” Grandpa snarled, his eyes narrowing before an absolutely
malicious light filled his cerulean orbs. It was then he removed the knife from my throat to place it
against my slightly bulging belly.
“I know jest what t'do with a treacherous lil' whore like yew. I'll cut th' living fetus outta ya while ya
fuckin' watch me do it,” the deranged elder rasped, a smirk on his face as he leveled his gaze at me. It was
at that point that I began to beg but not for my life, for the one of my child. The old man only chuckled in
response, cutting the shirt I wore down the middle as my blood ran cold.
Suddenly the voice we had heard earlier came from much closer, sounding absolutely furious. “Are you so
sure your actions are really wanted?” I asked, shaking as I watched the silver haired male glare at the
shut door
“Raven, I know I fuckin' heard ya! If yer fuckin' hidin' we're gonna have words,” came my lover's furious
voice before he could answer. I took advantage of the moment of confusion to call out for the wraith
that was searching for me. An action that earned me a shallow cut across my stomach.
“Ya make another fuckin' peep and I'll gut ya right on th'spot,” he growled, fear clear in his faded eyes.
“You were going to do that anyway. How is that threat going to keep me from doing the only thing that
could save the baby I carry,” I replied, anger and seething hatred slowly filling every part of my heart.
Grandpa sneered at me, opening his mouth to respond before another, much more serious call of my name
came from a lot closer.
“Hugo, I swear to Christ if you have anything t'do with this,” came a deadly sounding snarl from a few
feet away. Once again, I used the distraction to call for the violent male that was searching for me.
The short man holding me captive turned to give me a bone-chilling glare before lifting his weapon into
the air to stab my womb. I could only close my eyes and braced for unimaginable pain. The only thing
that made me open them was a loud banging noise as the door came flying open. Otis stood in the doorway
for a split second before he was charging forward to grab the old man's wrist, wrenching his hand
backward to force him to release the hilt. I had never seen the ghoul look so deadly or 'Grandpa' look so
scared. The taller, thinner male had his upper lip pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. His ice blue eyes
spat deep fury and held a dark promise of pain the old man had only had nightmares about. Then his eyes
shifted to me and he saw the shallow, bleeding cut on the small bump of my belly, causing all Hell to
break loose.
Hugo suddenly found himself slammed against a wall, his own knife against his jugular as a severely
pissed off psychopath loomed over him. “Don't kill him!” I called out, straining against the cuffs that held
me to the table. Otis froze in place, a low, rattling noise bubbling up from deep in his bony chest as he
looked at me out of the corner of his eye. The white, stringy hair hanging in his face only added to the
intimidating aura he had around him. It was at that moment I realized he was more out of control than I
had ever seen him, making him extremely dangerous.
“He… he's around on Halloween. Heaven knows what'll happen if you fuck with the time-line too much,” I
tried to reason. To be entirely honest, I could care less if Otis killed the old sow at this point but what I
said was true. If I let him kill Hugo, there was every chance something critical might change; ruining my
chances of saving this family from certain disaster.
To my shock, the beast in front of me only pressed the blade harder against the elder's neck. “I don't give
a fuck! Do ya really think he'll stop tryin' t'kill ya?” the rail thin monster spat, his eyes fixed only my
wounded belly as his stubble dusted lips pursed.
“If you kill him I might not be able to save you and the family,” I blurted, the silence that followed
making me dearly wish I could clap my hands over my mouth.
“What's th'point of savin' us if yer gonna die before yew c'n do it?” the ghoul rasped, his grip not loosening
on the dangling elder as he kept his gaze fixed on me.
I only blinked slightly, a bit stunned by his response. Concern for my safety should be very low on his list,
if not non-existant. Yet the very fact that he was saving me contradicted that idea. Hell, the fact that he
was willing to kill family for me practically ground it into the dirt. Despite that, I couldn't wrap my
mind around any of this information. The Otis I knew was ruthless and emotionless, not caring one bit for
anyone but those in his closest circle. “I don't plan on dying any time soon and I doubt Hugo will be so
willing to try this again after getting such a nasty reaction,” I reasoned quietly, my heart racing as a
strange feeling began to fill me. After a moment of introspection, I came to the shocking conclusion that
I was actually beginning to feel aroused by the killer's protectiveness over me.
Otis only grunted before shifting his icy gaze back to 'Grandpa'. “Well Hugo, ya gonna do anything this
asinine again?” he snarled, pressing the tip of the knife into the older man's skin and causing a ruby
droplet of blood to dribble out. The grizzled, frightened man could only shake his head; not even daring to
speak due to the closeness of the blade.
“Guess what?” the wraith hissed, his raspy voice laced with venom as he pressed the blade in deeper, “I
don't believe ya.”
Just before he could slit the gasping, struggling geriatric's throat, I made one last attempt to get
through to him. “Otis please!” I called out, my heart hammering in my chest as time seemed to freeze for a
long moment. I had a few horrible seconds where I thought my violent lover was simply going to kill the
family patriarch before the murderer simply let Grandpa drop to the sawdust coated floor. The older
male looked up at him, tears in his disbelieving eyes as he scrubbed at the bleeding wound in his wattled
neck. Then he was slowly getting to his unsteady feet, giving me a look of seething hatred as he coughed
roughly.
“Y-ya woulda really done it. You woulda killed me over a piece of ass that's carryin' yer bastard seed,” he
hissed, blood stained spit dribbling from the corner of his lip as he backed toward the open door.
“I still might if ya don't git yer worthless hide th'fuck outta here!” Otis bit out, his hand still wrapped
tightly around the hilt of the knife Hugo had intended to use on me. The enraged, stunned elder only
sneered before turning tail and running.
As soon as he was gone, Otis released his death grip on his weapon before turning toward me. In moments
he was on me, his icy eyes spitting fury as his rough hands traveled over the shallow wound on my
stomach. Before I could offer any reassurance, those hands were cupping my face and lips met mine in a
crash. We met so hard our teeth clicked together and I could feel my lip burst as the metallic taste of
blood filled my mouth. I could only lay there stunned, my body arching into his automatically as the
arousal from before became a slow pulse of lust. A moan even left me against my bidding, drawing a low
growl from the psychopath above me. “Fuck lil' girl,” he breathed against my broken, oozing lips before he
was hungrily devouring them again.
I released a small growl of my own, my upper body arching upward in an instinctual effort to free myself
from the table. This drew a gruff noise that sounded like a chuckle from the taller man. Next thing I
knew, he was on the table with me; one of his knees spreading my thighs as he straightened into a sitting
position. As I watched, his cold eyes immediately went to the tiny bump of my belly; a displeased noise
leaving him when he saw the wound was still bleeding slightly. Then he was bending down, licking up the
blood with an absolutely animalistic noise. “If he ever comes near you or even looks in your direction,
you tell me. I was willing to grant him his life this one time. I won't be as understanding next time,” he
whispered, urgency tinging his furious tone as his callused hands left my face to disappear under my
shirt.
Large, rough hands traveled up my sides until eager fingertips were plucking my sensitive nipples to
attention. A bit surprised he wasn't simply stripping me to have his way with me, I let out soft moan as
soft, electric sparks of need began to gather in my lower body due to his attentions. A low rumble left
the man above me in response as he lifted my shirt to expose my breasts to him. Then he was taking a pink
bud into his mouth, drawing a soft cry of need from my lips as I struggled against the cuffs holding my
wrists down. Next thing I knew, my pants and underwear had been removed and the wraith was switching
to the other nipple as his right hand began to play with my slit. All too soon he found my clit, teasing it
mercilessly and drawing soft keens and whimpers from my lips as I felt a familiar, pleasurable ache began
to fill my occupied womb. “Otiissss,” I heard myself moan as he dipped his fingers briefly into my
quivering passage.
“Mmmm, then again I might have t'thank the old hog fer tyin' ya up in th'first place. If he hadn't done
that, I'd have never gotten t'see just how much ya enjoy it under th'right circumstances,” the killer
husked out, before he was moving down my body to settle between my thighs.
“Not gonna lie, I like seein' ya all helpless like this,” he continued, something glittering in his icy eyes
before his lips wrapped around my pearl and he began to suck.
All thought left my head as white hot pulses of pleasure began to crash over me in wave after wave,
each wave getting more intense than the last. Soon his name was but a keen on my lips as my hips shifted
restlessly, my eyes closed as a coil deep within me grew tighter and tighter. Then I was exploding, his
name a scream ripped from my throat as my vision filled with white. Yet he still kept licking, his tongue
wrapping around my clit to draw out my orgasm. He only stopped when I begged him to, the attention to
my oversensitive button becoming painful. To my shock, instead of taking me, he merely released my
wrists. Then he was dressing me before helping me to my feet. “Enough of this nonsense, we got shit we
gotta do,” he snarled, his erection clear under the tight fabric of his blue jeans. Then he was yanking me
to follow behind him, leaving me to anticipate just how he was going to put that to use later. There would
be no way in Hell Otis was going to blue ball himself and, despite how apprehensive that made me, I
couldn't help but feel a slight hint of eagerness.

Breaking in the Newbies

WARNING!!: Psychological Torture! Forced Cannibalism! Non-consensual Oral! Minor2! Non-consensual
Bloodplay! Rape! Nipple Mutilation! Knife Play! More Extreme Parts Marked With **.
Author's Note: Ever wonder what Otis' idea of foreplay is…

Chapter Eleven: Breaking in the Newbies

As soon as we were back in his room, Baby was poking her head out of the 'Prep Room'; answering a
question I hadn't even considered asking. Her blue eyes traveled from me to her brother, a flaxen brow
raising. Then she was coming out of the room entirely, her cerulean orbs holding a seductive gleam as
they drifted to the crotch of Otis' tight jeans. He stiffened immediately while realization washed over
me. These two had definitely had sex before and she was openly propositioning him. A fact that tweaked
that tiny jealous part of me. So, before she could saunter closer, I wrapped my right arm loosely around
the killer's thin waist while leveling my hazel gaze at her.
I wasn't too surprised that the psychopathic male jolted in my hold at first, ignoring the glare he no
doubt shot down at me for focusing on the shocked look that came over the other female's beautiful face.
What I was surprised by was the fact that he slung he own arm around my waist in return after a few
moments, pulling me close to his side. All of a sudden it was far too hot, heat radiating off the violent
male that had taken me under his wing. Then there was his scent, this being one of the very few times I
had to really appreciate it. He smelled like musk, dried blood and something that seemed to be just him;
faintly spicy and all too addicting. Shaking myself of the slight trance I had been in, I looked up again to
see Baby giving me a rather amused but faintly jealous look. “Thanks fer watchin' that bunch. Take yer
pick and go t'yer room,” the ghoul to my right rasped, his cold mid-tone bringing my attention back to
him.
The blonde only released a bitter sounding laugh before shaking her head and going back into the room
she had come out of. She soon returned with two of the five teens, ignoring the whimpers and pleas of the
pair as she dragged them behind her. Once she had closed the door, Otis was releasing me to stalk into the
room the rest of the victims occupied; reminding me we still had things to do. So, taking a deep breath to
steel myself, I followed the wraith. Thankfully, the group had learned I wasn't going to help them and
spared me the heart rending cries for their lives. “Come over and pick one,” my 'host' demanded, making
dread fill the pit of my stomach as I moved forward. All kinds of terrible things filled my head as my
body mechanically kept moving, not stopping until I was standing in front of the sniveling group of three;
a silent 'Red' watching from a corner of the room.
The trio that was left looked up at me with terror and a dim hope that I would refuse. That I was
another victim being forced to do as the killer wanted. Feeling ill at heart, I inwardly grimaced as I
picked the one I had recognized right away. The beast behind me only chuckled, moving so close I could
feel his body heat on my back. Then hot breaths were hitting the base of my neck as he moved a lock of
my hair out of the way. “Good choice. Do as ya please with her. Let me see if yer really family material,”
husked his deeper voice before he gave my skin a hard nip, making desire bubble up in my lower belly
despite the horror of the situation. Then his words sank in and I felt my skin go cold while the bottom of
my stomach dropped out.
He wanted me to prove I was willing to kill, to torture like they did. If I was unwilling to do this
independently, lord only knew how the man behind me would take that. He knew I had never killed
anything or so much as drew blood but he didn't know I just wasn't interested in being a murderer. If he
ever found that out… well, I highly doubted he would take it very well. So, closing my eyes and gritting
my teeth, I gathered what courage I could to do what was expected of me. Then I was reopening my eyes
to glare at the girl I had chosen, forcing all the hate I used to have for humanity to the surface.
Grabbing her hand in a tight grip, I drug her to the middle of the room and flung her onto the floor.
Before she could get up, I was pouncing on her; mindful of my pregnant belly as I pinned her to the wood
below.
**Otis was there in a flash, his hands holding hers down while I lifted her shirt. Sickening squeals of
'please' and 'you don't have to do this' bubbled past the brunette's lips as I exposed her developing breasts
to my hate filled gaze. I forced myself to see her as the one who had caused all of my anguish as a child,
that she was the one who made me almost commit suicide in high school. Then I was taking one of her
rosy buds into my mouth and biting down, hard. Blood filled my mouth at the same time her screams
filled my ears, the taste of the hot fluid was coppery and slightly sweet. Her pleas increased in volume
and frequency, falling on deaf ears as I suckled at her bleeding nipple. After a few moments, I moved to
the other one; giving the sensitive flesh the same treatment. This earned an almost musical scream from
my victim as the ghoul restraining her released an approving sound.
Crimson filled my vision as rage took over me, taking me beyond any reason that would have stopped me.
This scary place was the only way I was going to get through this with my hide intact, my sanity would
be another matter. I would remember all of this when I returned to lucidity. I would remember the
taste of her blood and her pained screams mindlessly demanding I stop with every breath. I would
remember those pleas reaching another register when I moved between her kicking thighs. I would
remember the sound she released when I gave her hairless womanhood a vicious bite. I would remember
eating her out as she bled into my mouth, her screams reaching all new heights. Then those sounds were
cut off, causing me to look up at my dangerous companion.
Otis was now holding both her slim wrists in one hand, his other hand yanking her head back by her
straight, brown hair. He had his erect penis shoved down her straining throat, ignoring the gagging
sounds as he began to move. The person I was now didn't care, in fact I felt a brief moment of pride before
I was going back to what I had been doing. Her two friends could only watch, Red placidly holding a knife
to their throats to make sure they didn't get any bright ideas. It wasn't too long before her choked
whimpers turned into a sort of acceptance and I pulled away from her junction to sneer down at her. The
killer using her mouth met my eyes, handing me his hunting knife. I took it with a cruel smirk, lost in the
darkness that filled me. “I'm gonna cut chunks out of your pretty skin to feed to your friends. If you bite
my boyfriend or your friends refuse to eat… well, let's just say it won't end up good for you,” I snarled,
taking pleasure in the terror that immediately filled her watering eyes.
The wraith abusing her stayed oddly silent, his icy gaze watching me closely as he thrust almost lazily
into the teen's mouth. Meeting his eyes with mine, I felt a dark delight rush through me as I began to
slice out a small section in her stomach. The young victim let out a muffled cry and arched her back but
made not move to bite the member that was embedded in her throat. Letting out a demonic cackle that I
wouldn't normally be capable of, I handed off the bleeding hunk to a waiting 'Red'. I didn't turn to watch
if she would feed it to one of the waiting duo, merely cutting off another small piece while the child
screamed around the cock in her mouth. Otis did the watching for me, a smile curling his lips when the
sound of retching came from behind me.
As I reached behind me to pass off the second chunk, the ghoul's hands came up to grasp my pale face in a
harsh grip; dragging me up into a possessing kiss as 'Red' took my offering. Gagging and sobbing came from
the other girl as my violent lover stuck his tongue into my mouth. Then he was releasing me, fire burning
in his sky blue eyes as his thin chest heaved. I only purred in response, a darker part of me in charge and
reveling in every moment of agony the younger woman was going through. Keeping my eyes locked on his
as he continued to thrust lazily into the cheerleader's throat, I cut a deep wound into the sixteen year
old's left breast. This drew a muffled scream from her before she went limp, seemingly passed out from
the pain.
Otis continued to thrust in and out of her slack jaw, his own jaw tense as he breathed heavily through his
nose. Lowering my eyelids as lust boiled within in me like thick tar, I leaned over the girl's prone body to
capture his lips on my own; relishing in the snarl that issued forth. Next thing I knew, my face was
shoved harshly onto the grimy, wood floor as the psychopath positioned himself at my dripping entrance.
Far from being afraid or turned off, pleas for him to take me issued forth; inflaming the beast above me.
Then he was thrusting into me, biting the scruff of my neck like a rutting wolf as he began to take me
ferociously. Low, animalistic noises issued from his chest as he slammed into me, my own keens of pained
pleasure bubbling past my lips as a tingling began to fill my limbs. This wasn't about pleasure, this was
about claiming; about making sure the girls watching knew just whose I was and where my loyalties lie.**
All I could do was hold on, a voice that didn't sound like mine uttering my pleasure loud enough that I'm
sure the entire house knew just what we were doing. The murderer fucking me released another throaty
noise, biting the back of my neck hard enough to draw blood. Then he was spilling into me, his hot seed
burning my womb as he was reaching between my legs. The next thing I knew, my body was clenching in
orgasm; cries of his name leaving me as my entire body became overwhelmed with white-hot pleasure.
Then everything was going black and I was dimly aware of the wraith detaching himself from me as I
collapsed bonelessly to wood beneath me.
The next thing I became aware of I was laying in Otis' bed, the feeling of someone hovering right by me
nearly overwhelming my senses. Groaning as I opened my eyes, I felt my stomach lurch as I remembered
everything I had done in myself induced haze. I never knew I had such violence inside me, such deep
darkness. The fact that I took such delight in the girl's pain earlier honestly chilled my blood and I found
myself wondering if I was really as good of a person as I thought I was. Before I came here, I wasn't
capable of even looking at a paper cut. Now, now I was doing horrible things that my mom would disown
me over. Would I become a monster like the rest of the family before this was over? Before I could think
any further down this distressing line, a pair of callused hands grabbed my face and yanked; bringing me
to look at the glowering face of the man that had caused all of this.
Sighing, I met his glare with resignation. I was still capable of guilt and compassion, feeling the sting of
both of them at the moment. This only seemed to piss my violent companion off even more and he lifted
his upper lip to sneer at me. “Where's th'woman I saw earlier? The one who glories in death and pain?
Why do you insist on clinging t'your feelings for these useless bitches?” hissed the cruel man, his eyes
seeming to glare right into my soul.
“I'm sorry. I just can't help it. I… I'm just not like you…,” I found myself confessing, suddenly tired of
keeping the truth from him. There was still a niggling fear in the back of my mind that he would kill me
for not being a psychopath like him but I found that very hard to believe at this point. The man had saved
my life not too much earlier, had even seemed concerned over my rather superficial injury. I don't think
he would go through all of that just to kill me himself.
“No shit! T'yer credit, you've never interfered or tried t'save them though your heart fuckin' bleeds fer
them. If yer gonna continue t'be part of this family yer gonna need t'put all that moral bullshit behind
ya,” he snarled before he was releasing me to pace like a caged tiger. As he moved, I watched him;
knowing he was very right.
If I kept clinging onto the morality I was taught, I was more than likely going to lose my mind. I could
already feel my sanity chipping away due to the things I had done and seen. How much more would it
take before I simply went catatonic from the sheer horror of it all? Yet knowing that didn't make what I
had to do any easier. I just wasn't missing whatever Otis was that made him take pleasure in this
gruesome activity. What had happened earlier was more of a fluke, something that wasn't really how I
acted normally. I had forced myself into that state in order to do what had been expected of me but the
fact that it existed at all truly disturbed me. Before that had happened, I honestly had no idea I was
capable of acting like that. “I know that, trust me I do. Its not as easy as just turning on some switch. I
still feel guilt after what happened in there, still feel disgust. Even if I don't know them, they're still
people,” I whispered, doing my best to ignore the disgust I felt with myself at the moment.
Silence followed, a heavy feeling in the atmosphere that made my skin tingle. His intense gaze bored
down on me and I could feel my apprehension rising. After a few seconds, I had to look away; my heart
practically in my throat as nausea and fear fought for top position. It wasn't too long before he was
grabbing my face again, forcing me to look up at him as anger shined in his icy orbs. “Ya lied when ya said
you wanted t'be a killer didn't ya?” he rasped, his nostrils flaring as the fear inside me turned into pants
shitting terror. Time even seemed to freeze as the world fell away, the edges of my vision going gray as I
began to feel faint.
“N-no… I… I had to find some way to get to you and your family. I used my knowledge from the movies
to play Spaulding. I knew if I said the right thing that he would lead me right to you. The only problem
was, once I got here I couldn't very well tell you the truth. My best chance was… to pretend I wanted
to kill people,” I confessed, my skin growing cold and clammy as my breathing became quicker. The
tingling in my skin evolved into tingling in my limbs and face and I bit my tongue to bring myself back to
clarity. I couldn't afford to pass out at the moment.
To my shock, the violent ghoul began to chuckle; his expression still blackly angry despite the humor in
the noise. “If ya had wanted t'fuck us, ya could have easily done so. Hell, if yew weren't so determined
t'save us from this fate you have yet to tell me about ya probably woulda fucked with us by now. Still,
never lie t'me again, do ya understand?” Otis rumbled, something dangerous shining in his eyes as his grip
tightened slightly.
“I didn't even want to lie in the first place but I didn't really have a choice,” I responded, tentative relief
slowly replacing the fear I felt. He was pissed but not enough to kill me for this transgression.
“Yeah, if ya had come in with th'story you told me, you'd have been gutted or thrown in th'basement with
th'rest of them,” he replied, some of his anger fading for a brief, disturbed expression. It disappeared so
quick that I almost thought I had imagined it.
Next thing I knew, he was pushing me down on to the mattress as he straddled my body; sitting just below
my rounded stomach. Then he was leaning down, his lips bare inches from touching the shirt covered
bump; his hands coming up to cradle and rub it. As I watched with a hint of confusion, the murderer lifted
my shirt; a low growl leaving him when he saw the scabbed wound just below the crest of my dome.
Suddenly he was licking it, low snarls bubbling out of him each time his tongue laved over the cut. His
large hands moved up the taut dome to cup my growing breasts, drawing a gasp from me due to their
sensitivity. “No matter what happened before, yer mine now and I ain't lettin' ya go,” came his gruff voice
just before the shirt I wore was ripped off me.
“But, if ya fuckin' lie t'me again fer any reason you will fuckin' regret it,” snarled the beast sitting on me,
the deadly tone in his voice letting me know he wasn't joking.
**It was then I became very aware of something cold and metal being pressed against my left nipple.
Looking down, I saw the sharp blade of Otis' hunting knife resting there. My eyes switched to him in an
instant, fear and anticipation bubbling within me as he gave me an absolutely frightening smile. With a
swift movement, he sliced my nipple shallowly. The pain was incredible yet, under it, there was the
barest hint of pleasure. Then he was latching onto the wounded nodule, sucking hard and causing tingles
of pain mixed with lust to race through my bloodstream. A moan left my lips as he swirled his tongue
around the wound, too distracted to notice he was placing the blade on the other nipple.
With a quick movement from Otis, I felt pain bloom in my right nipple just before his mouth closed over
that one; leaving my left breast to bleed freely. Feeling my blood flowing and cooling on my skin filled
me with a strange anxiety at the same time the killer's talented mouth was drawing pleasure from me. I
could only moan out his name, feeling faint while feeling more alive than I have in my life as my back
arched and my hands burrowed themselves in his stringy, almost white hair. The wraith released a
frightening sound against my right orb before he was releasing me to give me a look that made my limbs
tingle. Then he was pulling up his knife to show me my blood on the blade, the sight nauseating me
slightly but not enough to kill the lust boiling in my loins.**
Making sure our gazes were locked, the ghoul above me licked the blood off the blade in a slow, almost
sensual motion. Once he was done, he closed his icy orbs as a low snarl rattled up out of the depths of his
bony chest. When he reopened them, he placed the blade on my collarbone; dragging the sharp implement
downward and creating a shallow wound that led down to my five months pregnant belly. Despite the
obvious pain, I felt a very slight undertone of pleasure; a fact that would have confused me if I was
capable of rational thought. I was currently lost in a haze of intense need and lust, panting as I watched
him lick from the bottom of the wound to the top; soft gasps leaving me as I began to squirm. “Oh Otissss,”
I hissed, closing my eyes as my head fell to the side; finding myself barely able to keep control over
myself.
My womb was a knot of pulsing, driving pleasure and all I could think about was how much I wanted him
inside me at that moment. It was all I could do not to voice that need but it wouldn't be much longer
before I lost myself to the sensations running through my body. I simply held on, my moans growing
louder with each pass of his tongue on my injured skin. It was then our child decided to give its first kick,
effectively freezing any activity. My libido still raged but a sense of wonder was now mixed with it and I
watched as the killer that had been cutting me slowly sit up. Given his position leaning over my gravid
dome, he must have felt it too.
Any aggression faded as his eyes slowly moved to my stomach. The hand that wasn't holding the knife
came to rest on top of the swell of my womb and he waited, seeming to almost hold his breath. I wasn't
aware of the fact I was also holding my breath until the baby kicked again and I released a slight gasp.
Otis also seemed shocked, going eerily still with his hair hanging in his face to hide his expression. I was
dimly aware of the sound of his weapon clattering to the floor before the ghoul practically ripping off
my pants and underwear. Then his teeth were at my neck as he entered me slowly, growling harshly as I
moaned. My hands flew to his shirt covered back and I realized he was so impatient to have me that he
was taking me through his fly.
This awareness only served to fuel the low fire burning in my lower body and I raked my nails down his
covered back as I bit his bare shoulder. An action that drew a grunt from the violent male just before he
sat up to whip his wife-beater over his head. As soon as this was done, he leaned back down to bite where
my shoulder met my neck as he began to drive into me. His rhythm was hard, merciless and I couldn't get
enough. Flashes of black and red flickered behind my closed eyes as breathless keens escaped my voice-
box. Low grunts and snarls left Otis as well, his hips snapping into mine so hard that the room was filled
with the sound of flesh slapping together. Then he hit something deep within me and my back arched as
my breath stuttered slightly. As if he knew what he had done, he hit it again and again; drawing a whole
different register of noises from me.
I was barely aware of screaming loud enough for the house to hear again but I was beyond any capacity
to care. My nails raked down his back again, my toes curling as the tight ball of my womb wound tighter,
tighter. Then I was imploding and exploding at the same time, my head tilting back as I called out the
killer's name. Otis hissed my own name against my neck as he spilled into me, collapsing onto his side to
avoid injuring the unborn fetus I carried. Panting harshly, he pulled me to his side with a sharp yank; one
of his hands coming to rest on my taut, rounded tummy. The child, seemingly unhappy with what had just
happened, rolled and kicked for a few minutes before eventually settling.
Watching the beast's face as our baby moved, I could almost see a shred of someone who could have been a
decent man. His face almost had a loving expression on it, softening his normally harsh features and his
hand moved slowly over the small but growing dome. He almost looked like any expecting father,
warming my heart slightly. Tentatively, I placed my own hand over his; flinching slightly when he jolted.
Then, to my surprise, his fingers were entwining with mine as his sky blue eyes met mine. A slight frown
crinkled his brow as he seemed to mull something over. After a few moments, he pulled me closer; almost
forcing me to rest my cheek on his bony chest. “If ya ever leave me, I will fuckin' hunt ya down and kill
ya. Like I said earlier, yer mine now. I ain't about to let ya go without a helluva fight,” he bit out, his
chin coming to rest on the top of my head as his arms wrapped around me tightly.
“I have no intentions of leaving unless forced or killed. I'm afraid you're stuck with me,” I replied, feeling
oddly playful. A fact I could only put down to feeling slightly more in love with him.
A few moments later, a yawn escaped me as I felt my eyelids growing heavy. Otis huffed irritably, a
slight hint of humor under the annoyance in the exhalation. “Sleep, you'll need all th'rest you can get.
There's only a few more days until Halloween and a lot is going t'happen,” he rasped, his words sending a
chill of horror through me. I had almost forgotten in all of the activity and being reminded brought me
crashing down from my euphoria hard. Licking my lips, I could only nod as I nestled into him. It wasn't
too long before his scent lulled me into a deep, nightmare filed sleep.

Devil's Night
WARNING!!: Severe Psychological Torture! Forced Murder! Forced Cannibalism! Desecration of Dead
Bodies! Necrophilia! Knife Play! Blood Play! Brutal, Graphic Rape! Minor2! More Extreme Parts Marked
With **

Author's Note: The name of this night takes on a whole different meaning. Minor time skip of a couple
days.
Chapter Twelve: Devil's Night

As soon as I woke up, I had been shoved out of Otis' room and told to help Baby and Mama; the killer in a
rare mood today. Shrugging off the unusual amount of animosity from my violent lover, I made my way
to the bedroom across the hall and knocked on the closed door. Within moments, it opened to reveal a
bright-eyed and bushy-tailed blonde murderess. Inwardly disgusted by her early morning cheeriness, I
told her what her brother wanted us to do; following behind her as she flounced her way down the hall.
On the way we passed by Hugo's room, the old man giving me a glower before he slammed his door shut.
An action that only made my ire rise.
The memory of what he had done or tried to was still far too fresh in my mind and I shot a heated glare
at the closed entry on my way by, something that wasn't lost on the flaxen haired beauty walking to my
right and slightly ahead of me. “Did somethin' happen? Otis has been givin' Grandpa th'stink eye fer a
while,” she asked, staring back at the door as we continued on our way.
“Yeah, Hugo decided I had quite outlived my welcome and decided to rid the family of my presence,” I
sighed, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose as we reached the stairs. The younger female
halted in her tracks at my words, causing me to stop too as I turned to see what the problem was.
“He tried t'kill ya?” gasped the slightly taller female, looking utterly shocked by this revelation.
“Yeah, happened a few days ago. He took me out to one of the sheds with the intention of cutting my
unborn child out of my belly,” I replied, not too shocked when her awe and confusion grew.
In her experience with Otis, he had never let a threat to any of his family live for very long; not even
family members themselves. Especially not them. If a family member betrayed family, it would be even
harder to get rid of them; depending on just how much emotion other members held for them. That was
one of the reasons new members were few and far between. Not very many people made it past the
rigorous 'screening process'. “And he let him live?” breathed the astonished woman in front of me, the look
on her face nearly making me laugh despite the seriousness of the conversation.
“Its a very long story and not one I feel particularly like sharing. At least not without Otis around,” I
sighed, turning to continue our journey to the kitchen. Baby followed close behind, still seeming a bit
shell-shocked. In fact, she couldn't seem to take her eyes off me; making me feel slightly disconcerted
until we reached the bottom of the stairs.
We walked past the dining room and straight to the kitchen, the sight that greeted me making a cold
wash of horrifying realization wash through me. There were several pumpkins set up for carving and
Mama was busy making what looked like a roast for dinner, a humming coming from the bustling woman
as she stirred a pot of potatoes that sat on the stove. Fake bats hung on strings from the ceiling and the
stuffed corpse of a black cat stood with its back arched on a near-by table, its dead, green eyes seeming to
glare at me as we entered the room. The larger set, older female whirled to face us before we got close, a
smile on her bright pink lips. “Well hai thar! You two 'r' jest in time t'help set up th'decorations!” she
chirped, her excited words making fear skitter up my spine with sharp claws.
“Is it Devil's Night already?” I found myself asking, the question feeling stupid given all the evidence that
was laid out before me. Whether it was due to trauma or just not wanting to deal with the reality of
what was coming, I had forgotten just how close it was.
“Indeed 'tis mah dear child! Would y'all be a lamb and fetch that dear lil 'Red' from th'cellar. Have R.J.
and Tiny help bring up a second one of yer choice,” she requested, a strange sparkle in her hazel eyes.
Swallowing nervously, I nodded before heading out into the side yard first. The hulking, bearskin wearing
man was bound to be out there.
All too soon, I found myself in the large basement; motioning for the broken 'Red' to head upstairs while
R.J. had Tiny wrangle one of the brunettes that had recently been captured. The placid redhead did as
she was told without complaint, her weakened sister watching from a corner of the cage. I followed
behind, knowing I wouldn't be much help getting the screaming, struggling teen I had chosen up the stairs.
Once there, I was greeted with the sight of Mama and Baby tying up Otis' pet with thick, rough ropes. The
matriarch saw me arrive and grinned again, joyful malice shimmering in her eyes. “Now would ya go git
Otis? I know he's in a foul mood t'day but he'll want t'be present fer this. Jest tell him 'Red' is ready,” she
requested, gesturing to the passage through the dining room with a pink nailed hand.
I could only comply, my stomach churning from the anticipation of what was going to happen. Thousands
of possibilities flooded my mind at once as I walked, none of them good. I was so distracted by my
horrible imaginings that I didn't even notice that I had reached Otis' door before I had mechanically
reached up and knocked on the hard wood. I came back to reality just as the door whipped open to reveal
my extremely perturbed looking companion. A sneer graced his pale, bearded face and his icy eyes spat
sheer fury as he loomed over me. “R-red is ready,” I stammered, an unconscious hand coming to rest on
the swell of my belly. The baby that rested there kicked my hand, almost as if in reassurance. This
brought a chilling grin to the wraith's pasty visage, showing off his almost brown teeth and making me
shudder subconsciously. Then he was grabbing my upper arm and leading me back downstairs, everything
within me screaming that I didn't want to see what was to come.
All too soon, I found myself in the dining room; blinking at the unusual scene that greeted me. Red was
bound from head to toe, sitting at the head of the table with her normal empty expression. The teen I had
chosen was being held in a standing position right beside her by Mama and Baby, the younger female
holding a knife to the cheerleader's throat. “Good, now yer gonna see a treat. This here is a Devil's Night
tradition fer th'Firefly family,” rasped the man to my left, his large hands coming up to rest briefly on
my shoulders before he was moving forward; a purely evil smirk curling his lips. Doing my best not to
shudder, I followed close behind; my stomach busily turning and doing flips as I watched him head
straight to the brunette.
The cruel man took the weapon from his sister, stopping to give her a heated kiss that pricked at the
jealousy hidden deep within me. His eyes fixed on me as he pulled away, telling me he knew exactly what
he was doing. Then he was taking the blade from her, moving the sobbing child's hair away from her neck
with an almost tender motion. Keeping his gaze fixed on me, he bit her neck sharply as he grabbed her
right arm. As I watched, he forced the knife into her hand before closing his own over it. The brown
haired teen only sobbed and hiccuped, thick tears rolling down her cheek as her entire body began to
shake. Otis released a low growl as he pressed himself against her, forcing her shaking hand to move to
'Red's' stomach. The younger female only continued to look forward, not even flinching when her captor
forced the other teen to slit the front of her shirt open.
**The complete lack of emotion from the bound child chilled my blood and I felt a deep nausea fill me as I
realized the monster I loved had completely broken her. This child who was barely starting to become a
woman could care less if she lived or died. With the way things looked, she was going to die horribly. As
I watched, Otis forced the brunette's hand ever lower until the sharp blade was resting on his favorite
pet's stomach. Then he was forcing the teen to gut the bound child, ignoring the gagging noises coming
from both of them to watch my reaction as 'Red's' intestines popped free of the slit in her abdomen. Not
even then did the teen scream, silent tears rolling down her pallid cheeks as she began to cough up blood.
I could feel my gorge begin to rise as the world almost seemed to pull away. Only biting my own cheek
brought me sharply back to reality and I forced myself to move closer to the gruesome scene. The poor
girl that was being forced to commit this act was making deep, meaty, urping noises as she heaved, thick
ropes of saliva leaving her mouth as she leaned slightly forward. My psychopathic lover only cackled in
dark enjoyment before forcing the shaking cheerleader's hand into the steaming pile of guts that had
spilled out of the still living girl. Red didn't so much as flinch, her dead eyes watching the ceiling as
blood poured from both her wound and mouth. The traumatized child, however, let out an ululating
screamed that echoed off the walls; her entire body shaking from horror as her hand was forced to pull
out a loop of intestine. Then he was making her hang the length of innard on the wall, motioning me to
grab some as well while Mama handed him a roll of duct tape.
Fighting the nausea that tickled the back of my throat, I locked eyes with a gurgling Red; seeing nothing
but a hollow puppet as I grabbed my own loop. Soon Mama and Baby were joining in, singing homemade
Halloween songs as they strung up the ghoulish decorations. The bound child had died at some point from
pain, shock and blood loss, never so much as uttering a whimper; a fact that disturbed me deeply. That
could have very easily been me that had been broken and turned into a pet, only to end up as decorations
for the house. Suddenly a much more distressed scream came from the female Otis was holding on to,
making me whirl around to see a scene that made time almost freeze.**
The rail thin ghoul had the blood covered knife he was forcing her to hold held up to her neck, his blue
eyes glittering with malice as well as enjoyment as he kept his eyes locked on me. Breathless, hysterical
pleas escaped from the child's stomach bile coated lips as she shuddered and tried to pull away. He only
cackled, the sound crawling somewhere into the marrow of my bones and making me begin to shake
uncontrollably. I had seen him let go before but never to this extent. It was like watching… well, like
watching a man who truly enjoyed every moment of what he was doing. A man who wanted nothing more
than me to participate with him, a notion that nearly made my shaky control over my stomach go flying
out the window. Yet, despite my extreme distaste for what he wanted me to do, I moved forward;
pressing myself against the sobbing sixteen year old.
His normally cold gaze lit up with something that could almost be called love, then he was cutting a
shallow wound in the teen's neck; allowing crimson blood to bubble from the small injury. Letting loose a
noise that vibrated through my entire body, the wraith lapped up the tiny trail as the poor girl he held
shook like a trapped rabbit. Her eyes were wide and terrified, tears tracking down her face as her
developing breasts heaved. “Please, please! Y-you know this is wrong! I can see it all over your face! D-
don't just sit back and let him do this to me or my friends! Please! L-let us go a-and no one has to know
anything!” she gasped out, snot dribbling from her nose as her horror grew. The beast restraining her
ignored her words, giving me a silent command with his eyes as he sucked on the incision he had made.
**I tried to shrug off her words as well, shoving away the burning guilt I felt as I reached forward to rip
her shirt open. Then I was moving to her jeans, reality feeling so very far away as I watched as a pair of
hands that couldn't possibly be mine unbuttoned them and shoved them down her thighs. “Gewd girl,”
rasped the thick accent of the beast whose child rested in my womb. It was then I came to the realization
that this was only the tip of the iceberg, that this shit I was doing was fairly light compared to what we
were going to end up doing to these poor people on Halloween. The movies I had seen had certainly
touched on this family's depravity but it had failed on grasping the entire scope of it. Only the sharp
scream of the teen as Otis entered her from behind snapped me back to current events.
He had her bent forward slightly, his manhood impaling her as he ground his rotting teeth together. A
vein bulged in his neck as the young woman began to dry heave, her thighs shaking as blood from her
vagina pattered onto the wood of the floor. Then he was moving, the breathy scream of the struggling
girl like nails clawing my very soul. It was in that moment that I became aware of the fact that I was
well and truly damned, my feet dragging me forward against my will to help him violate this poor
adolescent. My hands reached up mechanically to play with her breasts while I leaned over her to give
Otis a kiss. An action that drew a noise of approval from him before he was pushing me away. Then he was
huffing through his nose as he slammed into the brunette, biting the base of her neck hard enough to
draw blood as she fainted.**
Pulling out of her limp body with a snarl, the ghoul simply dropped her body to the floor like she was so
much trash. Stepping over her like she was a pile of dog shit, the wraith grabbed 'Red's' corpse and slung it
over his shoulder before going back upstairs. I could only stare after him, R.J. coming from dark corner of
the kitchen to grab the unconscious victim and take her back to the basement. This left me alone with
Baby and Mama, wondering if I was supposed to follow the ghastly man or if I was supposed to stay down
here with the two women. If I went up there now, I would no doubt be forced to participate in God knows
what with the fresh remains of the unbalanced male's pet. Yet, being down here boded no better from
what I had seen so far. All in all, I would much rather go up to Otis' room. At least I knew what was
likely in store for me up there.
Rubbing my mostly bare arms, I looked to the smiling matriarch for an answer. Instead of giving me one,
the older woman simply cooed and waved at the crest of my stomach before dragging her daughter into
the kitchen. It seemed like I was being left to decide what to do, a notion that truly scared me. Looking
up on the dripping entrails hanging from the walls near the ceiling like twisted garland and grimaced,
whichever I chose I was sure to lose in the end. All at once I was filled with the urge to just run, run
and never stop until I found a way to get back to my world. This child I carried didn't need to be brought
into this family, I didn't need to be here! Surely I wasn't insane enough to feel any kind of real love for
them.
Closing my eyes and shaking myself slightly, I bit my lower lip and decided to go upstairs instead of
giving into what was a very reasonable urge. As traumatizing, warping and just how sickening my entire
experience had been, my heart had lurched at the thought of leaving. Also, there was the nice little fact
that I was pretty much trapped. If I hadn't been before, I certainly was now. Before I had gotten
pregnant, there had been a slim chance of the family and Otis calling off a search for me if I ran far
enough fast enough. Now he wouldn't stop until he was dead or he had found me. I belonged to him but I
was much more than a victim or a toy to him, that much was painfully obvious. Yet I had no worldly idea
just what he considered this relationship. Or even if I could call what I had with him that. Ever since I
had come here, everything had been beyond fucked up and I had no clue what to expect anymore.
Rubbing the decently sized bump of my stomach, I looked up at the warped, abused door that led to the
murderer's room. The noises I heard coming from the inside didn't encourage me but I raised my hand to
knock anyway. My only answer was a barely discernible growl for me to open the door, something that
didn't really help my confidence in the situation. Still, I had knocked and Otis would be pissed for
interrupting him for no reason if he was doing what I think he was. So, bracing myself for the worst, I
opened the door slowly. Of all the things I had expected to be going on, what greeted my eyes wasn't one
of them. It was so surreal, I almost backed out of the room to just go back downstairs where things were
more sane.
Otis, a man I had only seen exude hatred, violence and a dark lust, had Red laid out on the bed we shared;
her face lifted to his so he could nuzzle her blood caked cheeks. There weren't any tears but he was
obviously distraught, his eyes closed as his mouth bowed downward. Blinking, I came slowly into the
small room and shut the door behind me. The wraith tensed at the sudden noise, turning his head to see if
it was just me. As soon as he saw it was, he relaxed and slowly lowered the body that had been a living
girl only moments before to the mattress. Then he was silently motioning me to come to him, his
miserable expression tugged at my heartstrings despite how strange it was. So, bracing myself for
anything, I moved toward him and wrapped my arms around him; leaning my head into his bony chest as I
gave him a hug.
This simple act of affection caused the psychopath man to go board stiff, his hands twitching by his sides
as he seemed to try to decide what to do. For some reason this amused me and made me sad at the same
time. Everyone here, even Baby and Mama, were afraid of him; a fact I couldn't really fault them for. As
a result, he probably experienced true affection very rarely. He was more used to a quick fuck and
roughness than any kind of love. This was more than likely the first time he had been hugged in a very
long time. After a few moments, I began to back away for his sake; just in case the abnormal contact was
making him uncomfortable. He had different ideas, his arms slowly coming up to rest on my upper back as
he gradually relaxed. For a few moments, everything that had happened faded away. For a few moments,
it almost felt like we were a normal couple.
He even rested a surprisingly warm, beard covered cheek against mine, sighing softly as he too seemed to
lose himself in the moment. Then, with no warning, he was pushing me away from him; a strange
expression on his gaunt visage. A frown lightly crinkled his pasty brow and his stubble surrounded lips
pursed as his hands moved up to grasp my shoulders. Bony fingers twitched on my skin as he appeared to
struggle with himself, an irritated sough huffing out of his nose. “She was one of th'good ones. There are
so few that break in th'correct manner. Th'best honor we coulda given her was what we did jest now. Still,
I will miss th'lil thang,” he rumbled, showing as much sorrow as someone would for a beloved dog.
**Grabbing my hand, he pulled me with shocking gentleness toward the bed. Then he was gesturing to her
body, his normal glare a bit softer than usual. Red looked peaceful, her eyes closed and her face relaxed.
The only problems with her were her pale skin, slightly blue rings around her eyes and the cruel looking
slit in her belly. Her stomach also sagged inward from the lack of her intestines, giving her the odd
appearance of an empty bag. Still, she had a strange beauty to her even in death. “She was a good lil
whore. One of th'best I've ever had th'pleasure of breakin',” he reiterated in my ear before he was
prowling around to the foot of the bed. Keeping his eyes on me, he crawled on top of the stiffening body.
The he was taking one of her nipples into his mouth, releasing a gruff noise as he suckled.
Just watching this filled me with a sense of unease unlike any I had ever felt. It was like he was getting
off to me watching him violate a corpse. Needless to say, my discomfort with the situation was growing
by the second. I began to wonder if I should just leave him to it and help Mama with Heaven only knew
what downstairs. Seeming to sense this, the wraith shot out one of his hands to grab my wrist in a tight
grip; the look in his eyes telling me everything I needed to know. I wasn't about to leave until he told me
to. He wanted me to watch this and I found myself with little choice but to comply. So, with a strained
smile, I gave him a nod and settled in for a show I truly didn't want.
The beast gave me a grin before going back to what he had been doing, rubbing his growing erection along
the dead body's thigh. Shuddering internally, I found myself wondering if he hadn't cum when he had
violated the teen earlier. Either that or he had some legendary sex drive, something that wouldn't
surprise me at this rate. “Come here,” came a snarled order, drawing me out of those thoughts and back to
reality. Meeting Otis' eyes, I moved closer; watching with a dim feeling of horror as he began to enter the
cut in the body's abdomen.
“Hold down her gullet,” he demanded, fumbling with his tight jeans to pull them down. I complied with a
silent nod, afraid I would vomit if I opened my mouth.
The ghoul gave me a smile that looked almost genuine, reaching up to cup my cheek before his lips met
mine in a faintly tender kiss. Then he began to thrust into what was left of her guts, his tongue sweeping
into my mouth as he moved and nearly making me gag. The rancid taste of his breath was only
accentuated by his gruesome action but I managed to control my urge to vomit by sheer will. “Ya keep
surprising me with yer actions and I don't normally like surprises. Gotta say ya changed my opinion. Yer
such an odd one, I still don't know jest what t'make of ya,” he sighed as he moved his hips almost lazily.
Then a low growl that sounded almost like a moan escaped him and very nearly caused me to jump back
from simple shock.
He had never sounded so vulnerable before and I found myself sacred of the consequences that could
come from me hearing this utterance. To my further astonishment, he merely cupped my face as he
continued to make out with me; making another noise similar to earlier. Then he was breaking the kiss,
panting lightly as he rested his sweaty forehead against mine; his thin hips still moving slowly and
causing a strange squishing noise to fill the room. Realizing this was him basically fucking her entrails, I
inwardly shuddered but leaned back into him; knowing he was close. “Ahhhh fucck,” he gasped, going stiff
for a moment before all of his weight sagged onto me.
Heavy, gruff breaths blew out of him as he tried to regain his strength, his head still resting against mine
as his hands came up to my shoulders to help steady himself. “Ffffuuuuck,” he groaned again, a bit more
anger tinging his tone as he slowly straightened to pull out of the body he had violated.** Pulling up his
jeans, he swept a hand through his almost white hair as his hatred filled eyes locked on me.
“Go on back down t'help Mama and Baby now,” he whispered, a strange emotion glittering in his icy orbs as
he stood in place and glowered at me. I didn't have to be told twice, nodding before I sprinted out of the
room. Just before I left, however, I heard him mutter something to himself.
“What th'fuck are ya gettin' yerself into here Otis…,” was the nearly silent whisper I heard just as the
door clicked shut.

All Hallow's Eve (Part 1)

WARNING!!: Breath Play! Knifeplay!

Author's Note: And all too soon, we find ourselves on that fateful night… Will be loyal to scenes in the
movie but things will be quite a bit different. Sorry for delays once again. Sprained my wrist and that's
made it hard to write. Also, kinda awesome this unintentionally takes place in the 13th chapter.

Chapter Thirteen: All Hallow's Eve (Part 1)

I shot awake, a scream trapped behind my teeth as the last of my nightmare faded. My heart pattered in
my chest while my unborn child turned in my womb, making me place my hand on the taut dome in an
instinctual effort to calm it. Beside me, the wraith that was the cause of all of this rustled around for a
moment before sitting up behind me to take me into a loose hold. “Shhhhh, yer safe. We all are. Try t'go
back t'sleep,” murmured a gruff voice in my ear, firm hands forcing me to lay back. Whimpering, I blindly
turned to my bed mate for comfort; forgetting for the moment where I was and who I was with.
Needless to say, the ghoul went board stiff; a chuff of surprise leaving him as his arms wrapped around
me almost mechanically. After a few seconds, the tension gradually leaked from his thin body and he
simply sighed as he began to soothe me awkwardly. It was needless to say he was much more used to
torture than offering any kind of comfort. So, when I came back to myself, I immediately tried to pull
away; apologizing for my subconscious actions. “Jest, shut th'fuck up,” he rasped, barely visible blue eyes
glaring at me through the darkness as his arms tightened around me. Blinking, I licked my lips as I
settled against him. Silence followed, only the sound of our breathing audible as the smell of him fills my
nose. Underneath the body odor, he smelled of blood and something pleasantly musky; making me long to
nuzzle into him despite the fact I knew he wouldn't appreciate the action the least bit.
The next thing I knew, I was being shaken awake rather roughly by the same person who had so tenderly
lulled me to sleep the previous night. Instead of any expression of affection, there was only his usual
mask of anger. Then he was shoving a bowl of soup into my hands, his stubble covered upper lip pulled into
a sneer of disdain as he paced back and forth. Sighing and knowing he would eventually tell me what was
bothering him, I merely began to eat; grateful for the fact that I was long since past the days of morning
sickness. “Does anything happen today?” snarled my companion, reminding me what today was as well as
just why I was here in the first place.
“No, at least I don't think so. A few things have happened that didn't in the movies but I doubt a huge
deviation in events is going to happen,” I replied, what appetite I had disappearing and causing me to
place the half empty bowl of soup on the nightstand.
What happened next happened very quickly. One moment Otis was a couple feet away from me and the
next he was over me, his weight pressing me down into the rickety mattress below us as he leaned down
close to me. His hunting knife was ready in his hand and his icy eyes watched me closely as he placed the
tip against the collar of the black t-shirt I wore. “Otis, this is a new shirt,” I sighed in playful
exasperation, a bit shocked at how comfortable I felt with this violent killer.
“I can steal ya another one,” he bit out dismissively, slicing the cotton material down the middle as if it
were nothing.
Gasping, I arched into the blade as tingles of familiar arousal began to race through my bloodstream.
Grinning, the beast above me applied just enough pressure to create the shallowest cut. Then his mouth
was covering it, greedy sounds escaping him as his tongue played with the ragged edges of the fresh
abrasion. While he was doing that, his hands drifted to the swell of my gravid belly; a snarl bubbling out
of him when our child kicked him enthusiastically. This caused the murderer above me to descend into a
frenzy, his hands tearing my clothing from my body before one was wrapping loosely around my throat.
Icy, hate filled eyes met my hazel ones as he began to squeeze, his semi-hard erection filling me at the
same time. I could only swallow, strangely calm despite him slowly cutting off my air supply. “Take a
deep breath while ya can babe,” he advised in a throaty hiss, allowing me just enough time to snatch a
lungful of air before he was squeezing my airway off entirely.
Then he was moving, every stroke of him inside me only intensified by the feeling of being strangled. In
my wildest dreams I would have never thought myself capable of enjoying anything like this, would have
even found the idea of my partner wanting to do it quite disturbing. Now I was finding myself more
turned on by the action, not daring to moan because it would waste precious air but knowing I wouldn't
be able to help it. Sure enough, he hit something deep within me that drew a sweet groan from my lips
and using up a bit of the air I had trapped in my lungs. “Ah fuck, ya don't even fight me on this. It would
be an easy thing t' kill ya right now, either accidentally or intentionally. The fact that yer letting me do
this with no fuss at all…,” hissed the violent male, his hips jolting erratically as he grew closer and
closer to his finish.
I could only gurgle, my lungs beginning to burn as the oxygen I held began to deplete. Yet this didn't
scare me as much as it should have, only served to turn me on further; my vision dimming as I felt myself
begin to peak. Just as my lungs were reaching the point of being unable to take anymore, my throat was
released; allowing a rush of sweet air just as I orgasmed. My back arched and a cry of his name left my
lips, vaguely aware of the feeling of him spilling hotly within me. As my vision cleared, I became
conscious of the fact that Otis was still hilted deep within me and he was panting heavily as he braced
himself above me. A strange expression was on his grizzled face, his flaxen hair hanging in his eyes as a
muscle ticked slightly in his left cheek. Blinking, I tried to assess just what was going through his head.
He seemed almost confused, his brow furrowed as his lips pursed and his nostrils flared. Then he was
pulling himself from me, still surprisingly hard despite just spilling his load. As he backed off my prone
form, his blazing orbs moved to my taut, round stomach and lingered there. Next thing I knew, he was
yanking me to my feet; spinning me to face away from him before steering me to the nearest wall.
Without prompting, I placed my hands on the flaking, rotting paint; leaning my hips toward him as he
smoothed callused palms down my naked back. Releasing a low growl that sounded utterly possessive, the
skinny killer placed himself against my entrance; pushing forward slowly and seeming to relish in the
moan I let loose.
Then his entire energy seemed to shift to what I was more familiar with, his anger and hatred heating
my skin as one of his hands came up to press my face against the wall I was braced on. Far too used to his
antics by now to be offended or scared by this, I only made a submissive noise and relaxed; knowing this
was what he wanted at the moment. The hoarse sound he made as he began to move only confirmed my
suspicions, bright lights dancing behind my eyes as I closed them. The position he had me in made it so I
could feel him hitting my cervix every surge, a sensation that was both painful and incredibly
pleasurable. It wasn't too long before I was making guttural cries of his name, my voice growing louder
and louder the more violent his movements became.
All too soon I felt myself explode again, jumping slightly when hands cradled my twitching belly. The
child that slept there rolling and kicked due to the activity, seemingly unpleased with being jostled so
much. Uncaring, the ghoul still inside me bit the nape of my neck hard enough to draw blood; making a
gruff vocalization as he orgasmed. His hands twitched on my tight skin as he recovered, shaking himself
as he disengaged his teeth from my flesh. Making another of those strange sounds from earlier, he laved
his tongue over the weeping wound he had made before he was backing away from me entirely. This left
me exposed to the cooler air and I shuddered, feeling his cum leak from me as I turned to face him. “Git
dressed,” he ordered simply, going into the 'Prep Room' to presumably work on one of his projects.
Sighing, I got dressed before staring at the room he had disappeared into. It had been a few months since
I had seen him work on anything besides torturing women, a fact that went right in line with the time-
line the movies had presented. Grimacing, I decided to take a shower before coming back. As strange as it
was, I saw Otis' room as a safe place; a lot of that having to do with the fact the family didn't come in
here unless they were asked. The wraith, as unpredictable as he was, felt safer to be around than the
others. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that I was around him the most. Honestly, I wouldn't be
surprised if I was developing some sort of Stockholm's syndrome with everything I had been put through.
Shaking my head to clear it, I looked up to find myself in front of the upstairs bathroom. Even if that was
the case, I was in far too deep now to even begin digging my way out. For better or for worse, this was
my new reality and that realization made me shudder.
A few minutes later, I was shutting off the shower; feeling a bit better than I had earlier. Blinking the
water from my eyes, I pulled back the curtain only to bite back a scream as I jolted backward. There,
right in front of me and with a strange grin on her face, was Baby. “Surprise!” she chirped, leaning
towards me as her bright eyes moved to my belly. I could only stare, backing away instinctually as my
arms came up to cover myself.
“What on Earth are you doing in here?” I bit out a tad more heatedly than I meant to, my heart
hammering behind my ribs as I pressed back into the cool tile of the shower stall. I felt almost trapped
and I wondered if I was about to have a similar encounter to the one I had with Hugo.
“I wanted ta see how mah sister and little niece are doin'. Hardly ever see ya after all. Does mah brother
really have ya on that short of a leash?” she asked, smirking when she saw just how intimidated I was.
Then she was backing off to give me room, her eyes glittering in a way that made my skin crawl.
“Not really. He's given me permission to come and go from his room as I please. I just don't feel much of a
need to venture out,” I replied, keeping my eyes on her as I stepped out of the tub. Then I got dressed as
quickly as I could, watching her every single second.
“Really? Huh, that's a bit of a surprise. Otis has never given any of his girls this much freedom,” she
murmured in a confused but slightly sly tone, as if gauging my reaction to her words.
I only cocked my head to one side as I wondered just what she hoped to gain from telling me this. With
everything I knew about Otis, I would be a fool to expect him to be loyal to me; even now. Surely she
wasn't trying to make me feel jealous? Huffing in amusement at the thought, I rolled my hazel eyes
before turning to the mirror to brush my teeth. Baby only stood in place, staring at me with what I could
only call consternation. “Am I supposed to care I'm not the first woman in his life? Am I supposed to be
upset that he rapes the victims and has even had sex with you since I came here?” I asked, looking at her
reflection in the mirror before squeezing some toothpaste onto a toothbrush. The blonde went board stiff
for a second, murder shining in her azure gaze. Then she began to laugh, the sound causing fear to race up
my spine and wash over my flesh in a cold wave. It sounded like a mixture of a witch and a crazy person.
“Oh I can see why he likes ya s'much! Yer a funny one,” she giggled before coming up behind me to wrap her
arms around my baby belly.
“Still, yer th'first he's allowed t'keep a pregnancy,” she whispered, a slightly bitter tone to her voice as
her hand traveled under my blue shirt to spread over where my child was.
Terror froze me in place as I seemed to even stop breathing, not daring to move a muscle as her nails
scratched lightly over my dome. “He's never let me keep any of ours yanno. Made sure I lost every one of
them until I jest couldn't conceive anymore,” hissed the murderess, her breath hot on my neck as she
pressed herself against me. Then she was letting me go, giving me a sour glare before her bubbly mask
slammed back into place. Giving me a wave with her pink nailed fingers, the blonde turned on her heel
and flounced out of the room; leaving me to nearly collapse as soon as she was gone.
My blood roared in my ears as I clung to the grimy sink to keep from sinking to my knees. All the
strength in my legs had fled, leaving the limbs feeling a bit like useless jello. Tears filled my eyes and
clogged my throat as hysteria began to quietly take over. Biting my lower lip to keep in a sob, I shut the
door she had left open in her wake before going back to brushing my teeth. A task that was made much
harder by my silent, fearful tears. No matter what Otis said, I was far from safe here. How long would it
be for Mama, R.J. or even Tiny to take a crack at threatening me. Dropping the toothbrush into the sink
with a clatter, I clutched the sides of the sink as I descended into quiet sobs; my entire body shaking as I
wept out months of fear and stress.
A few hours later and I found myself downstairs with Mama and Baby, watching bad movies like nothing
had ever happened between us. I was only down here because things were a bit dangerous upstairs. Otis
was in an artistic slump, making him very irritable and likely to throw sharp things. A fact I had found
out the hard way when I had gone back into the room after my crying spell. His hunting knife very
narrowly missed my head, telling me very clearly that my presence wasn't desired. So, with a small sigh,
I held out my hand for more popcorn as 'The Brain that Wouldn't Die' played on the back and white T.V. in
front of us. Thankfully, Baby was backing to acting normal. Well, normal for her anyway.
A sudden, sharp ring from a hidden room under the stairs startled all of us, Mama letting out a small
scream before she realized what it was. I, on the other hand, was doing my damnedest to seem nonchalant
and uncaring about what was going on. On the inside, I began to panic. This was all happening so fast, it
was hard for me to tell which way was up or down. Still, all I could do was hold on tight and hope that
everything went according to plan. There was a very real possibility that I couldn't change the course of
fate. That everything I had been through would be for naught. That my child may never get the
opportunity to be born. Just thinking about only heightened my anxiety and I bit the inside of my cheek
hard to bring myself back to the here and now. I couldn't afford to lose myself to hysteric when things
were reaching a critical juncture.
As I began to focus on the things around me again, I was vaguely aware of Mama's hushed voice. She was
more than likely speaking to Spaulding right now, learning where the poor people were and where they
were heading. Sure enough, she was sticking her head out of the hidden room to eye Baby. “Go and git R.J.
and head up th'ol road. We're 'bout t' have some comp'ny,” she purred, her blue eyes shining with evil
delight before she hung up and closed the wall; making it seem like there had never been an opening at
all. Her daughter only clapped enthusiastically before flouncing off to do as she was asked. I only sat
there, watching the proceedings as dread and anticipation began to curdle my belly.
“Now Raven, would you be a dear and mix some special cocoa for our dear guests? I have the ingredients
and recipe all set up fer ya,” cooed the older female as her focus shifted to me, her pink lips spread in a
sickening smile. I could only nod, inwardly shuddering as I awkwardly got to my feet.
It wasn't too long before I found myself in front of the stove, stirring some drugged cocoa as I heard a
truck engine roar to life outside. Mama hummed happily behind me, peering over my shoulder to observe
what I was doing. “That's lookin' gewd hunny! Did ya add th'amount of sleeping medication I wrote on
th'recipe?” she asked, eyeing the tasty looking beverage as it cooked. I nodded, handing her the empty box
of pills. She only kissed my forehead before bending down to make baby noises at my belly. Thankfully this
didn't last long, the sound of voices approaching the door drawing her attention elsewhere.
“Go on upstairs and wait with Otis. We don't need too many people down here right now,” she hissed,
fluttering her hands at me as I removed the cocoa from the burner.
Nodding but not too enthusiastic about being back up there, I hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs
just as a knock came from the front door. Shuddering as I heard Mama's all too familiar greeting to who
could only be Bill Hudley. The most horrifying thing was this group of four seemed nice enough. I could
have gotten along with Bill or Jerry quite easily. Their girlfriends were another matter but they still
didn't deserve to die. Or anything that was about to happen really. By the end of tomorrow, only Bill and
Mary Knowles would be dead. The other two would be given to Dr. Satan, a horrifying man held together
by pneumatic machines and who worked on Ruggsville's mentally insane. He did terrible experiments on
these people who had been thrown out by society to live in underground tunnels under the farm the
family lived on. I had no clue how they had gotten there to begin with but, from what I had seen from
the movies, they had been there long before the family had taken up residence on the land. The Fireflys
just seemed to be twisted caretakers of sorts, providing the doctor with new victims after every
Halloween.
Just thinking about it made me shudder, remembering the man the doctor kept as a lap dog. A man who
used to be Mama's husband before he tried to burn the entire clan's house to the ground. It had happened
before Otis had moved in and before Baby had been born. It had more than likely been R.J. who had
stopped the rampage and subdued the man who had discovered his wife's secret dark side. It wouldn't
have been long after that Mama met Spaulding and got pregnant with Baby, another thing that made me
shudder to think about. Just thinking about those two knocking together was almost enough to make me
vomit. Shaking my head to clear it of the unwanted vision, I looked up at the closed door in front of me.
I was probably one of the only outsiders that knew the truth about the man in there. He wasn't related
to these people by blood. When and how he had come here, I had no idea but it was clear by looking at him
that he didn't share the same genes. Still, now was not the time to think of such things. Especially when I
could hear Bill's voice from downstairs as he was led into the living room. So, taking a deep breath and
bracing for anything, I knocked on the door. I wasn't too surprised when it swung open violently,
revealing a very angry Otis. “R.J. should be towing the car in any minute now. Mama will want us for
supper,” I stated, sounding as if we were expecting normal company. Giving a curt nod, he grabbed my arm
and dragged me into the room, revealing the fact that he had held onto Red's body.
The corpse was slightly bloated and some of the skin had turned black where the blood had pooled in her
limbs. Said limbs were splayed and stiff, her fingers curling toward her palms as her clouding eyes stared
up at the ceiling. Even in October, Texas was hot during the day and had sped up her decomposition. In
fact, the sickly sweet smell of turning meat permeated the air faintly and made my stomach lurch. To
make the entire scene even more ghoulish, he had taken the time to dress her in a red dress and had even
painstakingly painted her nails. “Couldn't allow my favorite pet to miss out on the coming festivities,” he
rasped, answering a question I wasn't even close to wanting to ask.
“She looks beautiful,” I found myself whispering despite the nausea and slight disquiet filling me. Of all
the things I had seen this man do, this was the most creepy. It spoke of someone very deeply insane,
someone much more insane than I had ever anticipated.
“Glad ya think so. Baby helped fix her up last night while you were out,” he murmured, coming up behind
me to place his hands on my shoulders.
As his rough hands moved slowly up and down my upper arms, I found myself seeing my body in the same
position. It honestly wouldn't have taken much, just a few circumstances that were different and it
would be my entrails that had been used as gruesome garland. Just remembering that made me shiver as
I shook my head to get rid of the images. “Won't be long before Tiny comes t'git us fer dinner,” he snarled,
one of his hands winding in my upper back length hair and yanking hard; forcing my head back so my eyes
met his. With my head craned so far back it was hard to breathe or swallow but I didn't struggle, merely
met his gaze steadily. He only sneered, the expression looking almost affectionate before his mouth was
taking mine hard. At the same time his tongue was forcing its way into my mouth, a knock came from the
door.
“Be down in a fucking minute! Go git Grandpa!” hollered the monster still holding my head back. Then he
was releasing me to go into the 'Prep Room', coming out again holding a specimen jar I recognized from the
first film.
In the slightly brownish formaldehyde floated what looked like a deformed fetus, it's face oddly split
down the middle as if two heads had tried to merge into one. Its body was also lumpy and ill-formed, as
it should have never progressed as far into the pregnancy as it had. What made it even worse was the
knowledge that Mama cooed to it and called it her baby, acting like she had been the misbegotten thing's
mother. “Let's go down there in style,” snarled the wraith, holding out his arm for mine. Blinking a bit in
confusion at the oddly chivalrous action, I wound my arm in his; allowing him to lead me out of the room
and down the hall. We just reached the foot of the stairs when I heard the unfortunate fools asking
about Dr. Satan. “I know all about what you wanna know all about,” snarled the wraith as he walked into
the room, the familiarity of the words he spoke nearly making me shiver.
All at once, the family and their 'guests' turned to face us; all wearing a strange looking homemade mask.
“Jesus..,” hissed Bill, just as scared by Otis' sudden appearance as he was by how he looked. Otis sneered at
the teens who were just entering into adulthood, letting go of me to prowl to the front of the table with
the jar he held. As I watched the scene straight from the movie I loved so much play out before my eyes,
I became aware of one of the girls staring at me; her eyes fixed on my large belly. Turning to raise an
eyebrow at her; I saw it was Mary, the bespectacled Bill's girlfriend. She looked almost appalled by my
condition, her eyes unconsciously traveling to the murderer as he circled around and took a seat by
Mama as her lips made a disgusted moue. An action I found myself deeply offended by.
He may not look like much but he had kept me safe, had even cared for me in his own way. Who was she to
judge who I chose to have a child with? So, with a sickly sweet smile to her, I took a seat right beside her;
picking up the mask that sat on the plate. It was a strange facsimile of a fox, its features twisted and
wrong. Still, I placed it on my face; giving the woman to my right another smile. She only jolted back
from me, as if afraid of catching something from me; only further fueling my growing contempt. By the
time Grandpa had called for his special Halloween show, I was about ready to kill the bitch myself and in
the most painful way possible. Maybe the whole thing wouldn't be as traumatizing as I thought.

All Hallow's Eve (Part 2)

WARNING!!: Forced Mutilation of a Loved One! Emotional Torture! Physical Torture! Live Mutilation!
Disturbing Scenes! Gore! Forced Desecration of Dead Bodies! More Extreme Parts Marked With **

Author's Note: If you couldn't tell, I watched these movies a lot! I kinda consider this a labor of love, as
horrifying as some of it has been to write.

Chapter Fourteen: All Hallow's Eve (Part 2)

Otis had stayed inside, forcing me to do the same by grabbing my shoulder to keep me from going
anywhere. Not that I really minded missing Grandpa's particular brand of humor or Baby's strange
performance. Seeing them both in the movie let me know I wanted no part in what happened during or
after. Especially in my condition. A notion the murderer that was now leading me back upstairs seemed
to share. “Stay up here and don't do anythin' stupid,” he snarled as he practically tossed me into his room.
Then he went into the 'Prep Room', coming back out with a heavy club as a grim look etched itself on his
paper white face. Stopping in place for a moment once he reached the middle of the room, he turned to
look at me before walking at me at an aggressive pace.
It took all the bravery I had to stay in place, inwardly panicking as he came up to me and captured my
face in his rough hands. For a few seconds, he simply glowered at me. “Be careful, these people are a bit
older than what you've dealt with before and we have a couple men this time. Jest stay back and let me
do th'heavy work. If'n any of em git frisky, don't git any ideas 'bout bein' brave. Call fer help,” he hissed
before grabbing a baggy scarecrow costume and a large, homemade, plaster mask. It looked like the over
sized head of a gangster, crafted in a way that made the proportions look off and eerie.
Recognizing it as what he had worn while attacking their car, I felt a brief chill of fear race through my
veins. Before I had come here, I had been naive enough to think the kids would have lived if Mary hadn't
blown up at Baby. Now I knew better. No matter what happened, these people had never been meant to
leave here alive. Shuddering at the thought, I rubbed my arms as I wandered to the window; peering out
into the inky darkness in some vain hope of seeing what was happening. Unfortunately, this art of the
house faced the front yard and the quartet were leaving from the back. I could only hope things went
smoothly and I heaved a shaky sigh as I walked away from the window to sit on the creaky bed. All I
could do now was wait.
After what seemed like an endless amount of time, I heard screaming and a huge amount of commotion
coming from outside. My heart leapt into my throat as I got to my feet, our child rolling slightly in my
belly due to the amount of stress I felt. Placing my hand on the five month dome, I made a hushing noise;
whimpering slightly when I heard the war-cry Otis let loose. It wouldn't be long before their unconscious
bodies were drug inside and divided amongst the family. From there, I would more than likely be forced
to take part in the mutilation of Bill. Just because I had come out to Otis as having no interest in murder
didn't mean I got out of participating in what he considered bonding activity as well as recreational.
Sure enough, I heard two pairs of heavy steps that were followed closely by a much lighter set and felt
the smallest sliver of relief. At least things had gone off without a hitch so far and had corresponded
closely with the events of the film. I certainly hoped things continued on that vein but I had the
strangest feeling that it wouldn't. Unfortunately I ran out of time for contemplation, the door swinging
open to reveal Otis, Baby and R.J. The bigger, bearskin clad man carried Jerry and Bill over his shoulders
while his shorter, thinner brother carried Mary and Denise. “Set glasses boy in th'other room, I want his
bitch in here. I got somethin' special planned. Baby and Hugo can fight over th'other two,” he bit out, his
sister coming in behind him while still dressed in her costume. The outfit was mostly a tight, see-through
fishnet, thicker, white material covering her breasts and trailing down to barely cover her womanhood.
Removing her styled, brown wig, Baby gestured to Jerry with a wide smile on her make-up coated face.
She had only put a little heart-shaped dot of red lipstick on the front of her lips, giving them a surreal
look. The eyebrows she had painted on also didn't help, giving her a lightly sinister appearance. “I want
the little cutie here. I have a few idea for games with him,” she cooed, moving out of the way as R.J.
turned and walked into the 'Prep Room'. Her 'brother' only shrugged, setting down the brunette he had
singled out before carrying the other woman out of the room. The blonde stayed behind, a strange smile
on her white painted face that made my skin prickle. It was all too similar to the look she had given me
in the bathroom only a short time before and I fought the urge to back away from her.
As if sensing my discomfort, the younger woman slowly prowled forward; her smile only getting wider as
she closed the distance. “Ya never told Otis 'bout what happened between us. If ya had, he woulda had my
hide by now. Jest what are ya playin' at? Are ya waitin' fer th'opportune time t'fuck me over?” she
snarled, more fear than actual aggression showing in her blue gaze.
“As long as you don't intend on actually harming me or my child, I see no reason to bring it up,” I
responded quietly, just in case Otis came back. This seemed to throw the murderess for a loop as she
stared at me with an unreadable expression on her face.
Suddenly she was wrapping her arms around me tightly, the sudden motion making me go stiff from the
instinct to escape. Then she was kissing a cheek with a loud smack, thanking me profusely as she began to
cry from sheer relief. “I'm so sorry fer attackin' ya like that. Jest, seein' ya like that…,” she fumbled
sniffling slightly. Then she stopped speaking, going stiff as the sound of footsteps was becoming noticeable.
Releasing me, she backed away from me rapidly and tried to look as innocent as possible when Otis came
back into the room. It was all for naught however, the wraith sensing something was wrong as soon as he
came in to room. Fortunately for Baby, Mary chose that moment to moan as she began to regain
consciousness.
Taking that as her cue to leave, the blonde fled while I frowned at the stirring victim. She wasn't
supposed to wake up until tomorrow and I found that sense of dread from earlier returning in full force.
Then she began to scream as she took in where she was, giving me the worst sense of deja-vu. ***“Shut up!
Shut th'fuck up!” Otis snarled before slapping her hard, something that wasn't in the film. Mary could only
look up at him as she whimpered, tears tracking black mascara down her lightly tanned cheeks.
“Wh-why are you doing this?” she sobbed out, snot bubbling out of her nose and dribbling onto her lower
lip as she squirmed in the ropes binding her body. Then her gaze was slowly shifting to me and I froze.
Recognition and outright shock shone in her brown eyes as her brow furrowed slightly.***
Otis was yanking her back to face him as I absorbed the subtle differences in dialogue. Everything was
happening correctly and yet not, making my head swim slightly as I wondered about what this could
imply. Meanwhile, the ghoul continued to deliver the lines that came next word for word; making me
shiver from the echo. As soon as he finished his rant about blood and art being forever, I heard Mary ask
where Bill was and snapped back to reality when he began to chuckle darkly. “You and Bill are gonna help
me in a little project of mine,” he hissed, yanking her to her feet and steering her into the room a lot of
horrors had happened in.
I followed at a safe distance, becoming aware of the fact Bill had been hung on a homemade cross. A blue
tarp was spread under a tub beneath his booted feet and he groaned as his head lolled. His glasses hung
crooked on his blood covered face, one of the lens cracked while the other was gone entirely. This was
also wrong! He was supposed to be in one of the sheds so his screams wouldn't disturb the family, not right
here! There was also the fact that Baby was supposed to be here helping and Mary wasn't supposed to be
involved at all. As more and more discrepancies piled up, I found my unease growing steadily. Had things
been meant to play out like this or was my very presence making things skew off from where they should
be? I had no answers and I found myself locked in place as events continued to play out.
The poor brunette Otis had dragged in tried to charge toward her unconscious, bound boyfriend with a
cry of anguish, making my heart hurt for the child. If I was in her position, I would probably act the same
way. “Shut up ya dumb fuckin' whore!” he screamed, slapping her again; loud enough to fill the room with
the sound of skin hitting skin.
“We're going to do some work ya lil bitch. Ya know what work is?” he snarled, the words echoing the lines
he had skipped earlier but still a bit different. Just different enough to make the chill filling me
increase. When she nodded and he sneered, I found myself almost transported to the familiar scene I had
watched many times.
***“Yeah, I bet ya do. Well I ain't talkin' 'bout some summer job servin' icecream t'yer dumbass friends,” he
bit out, before shoving her into her suspended lover.*** Then he was motioning to me, jolting me out of the
light stupor I had slipped into.
Stepping forward almost mechanically, I watched as the killer yanked Mary's head back by her hair.
“We're gonna have a lil fun with four-eyes here,” he snarled, pulling out his knife to cut the rope binding
her wrists. I closed the distance rapidly, grabbing one of her hands out of sheer instinct while he grabbed
the other. The steely expression in his eyes told me he didn't approve of my actions but he made no move
to get rid of me, too occupied with the struggling woman who was currently trying to wrench herself
free of both of us. After a few minutes, he got her under control; yanking her away from me to pin her
arm with his free arm. Some scuffling later and he had forced his knife into her hand while he held her
tight against his bony frame.
At this time, a dazed Bill was slowly coming to, his eyes filling with confusion as he tried to make out
what was going on through his broken glasses. His short, brown hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat
and blood and horror slowly filled his gaze as he saw Otis. Then his gaze shifted to me and he blinked
slightly, as if confused to see me there. I never felt more out of place and I found myself once again
wondering if I had been the one to cause the divergences. **Unfortunately his attention was snapped back
to his girlfriend as the ghoul forced her to cut a deep slit in his pudgy belly. An almost musical scream
escaped him and the killer gave me a sharp glace before gesturing with his eyes.
Following his glance, I saw a radio on a metal stand and walked over to turn it on. As soon as my
unsteady fingers twisted the nob, the song 'Brick House' came blasting out of the speaker. Just hearing it
brought me back to the scene that should be happening right now but wasn't. Instead, something even
more twisted was taking place. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to banish the dizziness that
washed over me in a wave. The sounds that came from behind me didn't encourage me to turn around,
horribly wet and tearing. Still, I turned; nearly getting sick from the sight that greeted me.
Bill's stomach now gaped open, his intestines poking out as Otis kept forcing her to cut. Bill's screams had
turned to choked gurgles, blood pouring from his mouth as he struggled against the ropes tying his wrists
together. The smell of it filled the room, thick and metallic and very nearly making me vomit.
Shuddering, I tried to ignore the look of absolute horror on Mary's face as I made my way back toward
them. “Go and get th'circular saw,” he ordered in a gruff voice, ignoring the new protests that arose from
both of his victims. Shuddering at what was to come, I nodded before going into the 'Art Room' to get the
tool he had requested.
Many familiar faces greeted me as I entered but I shrugged off their glassy gazes as I moved into the
area he kept tools. There were shelves near the far back, left corner, a box of power tools sitting on the
floor right beside them. Moving quickly, I grabbed the saw Otis had ordered me to before hurrying back
out. Said killer was waiting impatiently, forcing Mary to motion for the item in an impatient manner.
Giving a nod, I handed it off; grabbing the power cord to plug it in before the wraith could order me to.
This caused the round blade to buzz to life with a roar, drowning out the breathless pleas of both Bill and
the woman he loved. As I watched, my own lover forced the brunette's hand forward; cackling like a
demon while the jaunty song continued to play. Then it was slicing through muscle, the scream that came
from the man sounded unreal from the amount of pain. As soon as it hit his spine, I could hear it and I
clapped a hand over my mouth as the writer's yells reached a whole other pitch.
Fighting against the urge to plug my ears and turn away, I saw the moment his lower half separated
from his torso. The area from his belly button down simply fell over the tub, what was left of his guts
spilling onto the metal bottom with a sickening noise. The rest of his innards soon followed from his
torso, hitting the tarp with a splash that made me come very closing to losing the battle with my
stomach. The gurgling hiss that left Bill as he finally died was what did it and I ran to the only
receptacle in the room, puking into the tub that was currently occupied with offal. Otis only sneered at
me as the distraught child in his hold called for her boyfriend over and over. Soon she too was joining
the party, retching loudly as she vomited up the dinner Mama had fed them.
Tsking loudly, the beast glared down at me as I recovered; giving me a disgusted glance as he forced
Mary to reach up into what was left of her boyfriend. He made her rip out his lungs and heart, his ill
humor quickly replaced by his earlier enthusiasm. Turning away from the grisly events, I went back into
the 'Art Room' to grab the next thing he was bound to ask of me. We were going to let Bill dry out
overnight, this was just to make the poor girl stew as she sat in the basement with the others. With a
grimace of nausea, I slowly approached a covered, metal gurney; knowing exactly it was that lay under
the sheets.**
By the time I wheeled out the laden table, Mary was weakly trying to pull away from Otis while he
cackled. 'Brick House' wound to an end, only to transition to 'Stayin' Alive'. The irony of this wasn't lost
on me and I found myself laughing despite myself. Said laughter quickly descended into hysteria and I
quickly stomped on it before it spiraled out of my control. Once I was sure I had regained composure, I
wheeled the autopsy table toward the pair. The violent male in front of me shifted his gaze to me briefly,
pursing his lips before simply shrugging. “Pull off th'cover so she can see jest what we're gonna be doin'
with lover boi there,” he ground out, his blue eyes full of fury as well as his usual hatred. I could only
nod, wincing as I pulled off the sheet and was immediately smacked in the nose by a faintly fishy smell.
There, on the table, was the dried, preserved lower half of a large fish. How he had gotten ahold of said
item in the dead center of a Texas desert, I would never know. The fact was that he had gotten it and
was going to force Mary to help him make a merman out of Bill. As soon as she saw this, the same reality
dawned on her and she went ghost white before losing consciousness. The pissed murderer sneered at her
unconscious body before slinging her over a bony shoulder. “Follow me downstairs then go on outside and
git R.J. He'll know why I sent ya as soon as he sees ya so there's no need t'talk t'him. If'n he gits squirrel-
y, ya jest tell him t'speak t'me,” he huffed before leading the way out of the room. I could only follow
close behind, just wanting this entire ordeal to be over with.
Thankfully, as soon as R.J. saw me he came out of the barn; not daring to touch me as he headed toward
the house at a fast clip. Not really blaming him for his fear due to Otis, I shrugged before following;
blinking when I was stopped by Mama. “Jest a moment hunny. Yew and I, we haven't spent a whole lotta
time together. Go on upstairs and ask Otis if it would be okay fer ya t'come on down and have some gal
time,” she cooed, looking genuinely excited about what she had proposed.
“I don't see why he wouldn't,” I responded cheerfully, a bit excited myself. While the older woman scared
me, she was sweet in her own way and did look out for me as much as she could. Getting to spend some
time with her could both be fun and horrifying. I had to wonder just what she had in mind for bonding
activities.
While we spoke, R.J. hefted down the unconscious Mary, the tub with Bill's legs poking out and the blood
covered tarp. He had his normal, neutral expression on his face, heading toward the basement. Shuddering
at the memory this caused, I wandered out of the kitchen and toward the stairs leading to the second
floor. I was just about to make my way up when a door slammed open from somewhere up there. Freezing
in place, I held my breath as I waited to see who it was. When I saw Hugo dragging down a sobbing Denise,
it took everything I had not to run back into the kitchen. Instead, I stood my ground; my hazel eyes
narrowed as he noticed me. Giving me a sneer, he locked eyes on me and made his way downstairs; leading
his prisoner ahead of him.
Curling my hands into fists, I stood ramrod straight as I watched him walk by; turning to keep my eye on
him until he had gone into the kitchen. As soon as he had, I was heading up the stairs; my heart thudding
hard in my chest. Bracing myself for a knife in my back at any moment, I walked as slowly as I could
force myself to; not wanting to give the old man the satisfaction of knowing he frightened me. Reaching
Otis' door unmolested, I knocked and meeped when the door was flung open and I was yanked inside.
Before I could open my mouth, he was kissing me roughly as his large hands ghosted over my taut dome.
“Ya always fuckin' surprise me. I'm almost startin' t'believe ya might actually be loyal. That you would be
willin' t'die for us, fer me,” bit out the violent killer before he was ripping my shirt off my body.
Soon he was also tearing off my pants and underwear, breathing heavily as his azure eyes moved over my
pale, pregnant form. “I want ya t'stay naked fer th'rest of th'night,” he hissed, effectively answering my
question about if I could spend time with Mama. I had to wonder if she would be disappointed or if she
would understand. With how long he had lived here, she would more than likely accept what happened.
When he grabbed my hand and lead me to the bed, I came very close to jumping out of my skin. His frown
fading ever so slightly, the ghoul lead me to the bed; gesturing to the saggy mattress. Realizing he
wanted me to lay down, I did so as confusion began to rise within me. To my further consternation, he
went into the 'Prep Room' instead of crawling over me.
Deciding to stay where I was, I blinked when he came back with a sketchbook as well as some pencils. It
shouldn't shock me as much as it did that Otis could draw but it just seemed so mundane compared to his
other 'activities'. Then it dawned on me that he was going to draw me and embarrassment flushed over
me from head to toe, turning my normally milky skin a rosy pink. Sure enough, he motioned for me to pose
and I felt a strange mortification. Still, I wasn't in a position to refuse him and got into the best pose I
could think of. I stretched out on my left side, my domed belly pointed slightly upward. My left hand was
under the corresponding cheek while the other rested on my gravid swell. The baby inside rolled slightly,
settling quickly.
The sound the killer unleashed told me I had chosen the correct one and he began to sketch, his brow
crinkled with intense concentration. The sound of graphite scratching on paper made nostalgia fill me
and I felt a strong wave of homesickness. I would never see my family or friends ever again. I would
never introduce my mom to her grandchild or my lover. I would never be able to do most of the things I
liked again like reading my favorite books, watching my favorite movies, drawing or even just taking long
walks in the woods near my home. My family was sure to think I was dead by now, so even if I did find my
way back; they would more than likely think they had gone insane. Just thinking about all of this made
my heart turn into a ball of pain in my chest and I had to swallow hard to keep back the tears that
tickled my throat.
When I had made that silly wish I never thought this would be the end result, a fact I had often
lamented. For the first time since I had come here, I found myself wondering if such a simple thing would
send me home. But then what? I would be on my own with a baby and no family. I couldn't just return out
of the blue. At least Otis would take care of me as much as he could. He made sure I ate even though he
very rarely ate himself. He allowed me many freedoms others took for granted but I cherished in my
situation. He even wanted me to participate in his strange arts and crafts projects, something he either
preferred to do alone or with the woman he considered his sister. As twisted as it was, what I had now
was a lot better than what waited for me in the realm I had come from.
A sudden sketchbook in my face broke me from my inner thoughts and I looked at what had been placed in
front of me. It was a surprisingly good drawing of me in the pose I had taken. He had taken the time to
shade as well as add a hint of a background and the bed I was on. It was like something a professional
would draw, not a sadistic killer. Looking up at him, I found myself speechless about what I was being
presented. It was beautiful in a way a man like him shouldn't be capable of, almost making the picture an
abomination. “That's really good,” I whispered, feeling a stronger sense of unease than I had when lines
and scenes happened differently than in the movie.
Giving me a sneer that could almost be a smile, he hung it up on the wall by the door before walking back
to the bed. Then he was climbing behind me, wrapping a skeletal arm around my thick waist as his breath
hit my neck. “Turn off th'light,” he rasped, watching as I did just that; plunging us into inky blackness. Thin
fingers danced over my bulging stomach and he almost spooned me as we lay there. All too soon, I found
myself drifting off; feeling safe despite just how dangerous this man was. At this point, he was much more
likely to protect me than harm me unless I did something truly idiotic. So I fell asleep in the arms of a
man who could easily kill me, turning to nuzzle into his bony chest.

*** Lines and scenes that are from House of 1000 Corpses. All material (c) relevant people

That Feeling in the Pit of Your Stomach

WARNING!!: Desecration of Dead Bodies! Forced Mutilation of Loved One's Remains!

Author's Note: A shout out to MandyRose! Thanks for all the support! It means a lot when writing
something like this!

Chapter Fifteen: That Feeling in the Pit of Your Stomach

You ever just wake up and know things are going to go wrong? Not just wrong but, horribly, terribly,
unendingly wrong? So wrong that you want to go back to sleep before you wake up? Before I even opened
my eyes, I had that feeling. It's a feeling that centers in the pit of your stomach and radiates up to your
heart if given enough time. For one thing, it was far too quiet as I opened my eyes; especially given the
fact that George Wydell, his deputy and Denise's father were supposed to show up some time today. In
fact, they were supposed to have shown up already, only making that feeling inside me grow into deep
unease. Things were just too quiet, only the sound of Otis' buzz-saw snores filling the room instead of the
knocking from downstairs or the panicked Mama at our room door.
Sitting up with some difficulty due to my growing tummy, I allowed the blankets to slither to my lap.
Our child rolled and stretched, giving me a slight fluttering feeling in my womb. Looking from the dome
to the still dead asleep murderer, I was filled with fresh determination to see this thing the rest of the
way through. If things began to go too badly, I would have to break from the plan and tell them before
the cops were murdered. Running a hand over my face I got out of bed to walk over to the dresser,
grabbing my clothes from the nearly empty drawers. As I went to slip on a pair of panties, I became
aware of the fact things had now gone eerily silent. That stillness was the only warning I got, a hand
snatching the underwear out of my hands. The soft purring noise of cloth ripping behind me told me that
I wouldn't be allowed to wear undergarments.
A hot mouth hovered over the scruff of my neck, his hands landing on my large hips as he rubbed the
leaking tip of his morning wood against my lower back. Without him having to ask, I bent forward and
spread my legs for him; getting an almost affectionate smack on my right butt-cheek for my compliance.
Roughened fingers played with my entrance to find me almost entirely dry. While this wouldn't have
normally stopped the killer, he made low noise of disapproval before his hand left my womanhood. A bit
confused, I turned my head slightly to see him spitting on his fingers. When he looked up, his eyes locked
on me and he gave me something very close to a smirk as his index and middle fingers began to play with
my clitoral hood.
It wasn't too long before the skillful, if not urgent ministrations were causing low, thick curls of arousal
to start weaving their way through my occupied womb. Soft moans left my lips as my thighs began to
shake, a growl mixing with my quiet sounds. “That's a good whore. You have no idea how lucky you are I'm
even botherin' t'do this fer ya. After how good you've been, ya deserve a treat,” came a strained rasp, his
breath leaving in hard pants as his bony digits continued to play with me. Then they were slipping into
my passage, a snarl ripping from his chest as my walls fluttered around the intrusion.
“So fuckin tight. No matter how many times we fuck or how rough, you're always so tight,” bit out his
angry mid-tone, the last word more of a hiss than anything else as his middle finger hit something in me
that made me nearly collapse as lust clamped my lower body in a powerful vice.
“There it is. Right fuckin' there,” breathed his raspy voice as he gave that spot one, long, hard stroke. A
shudder tore through my gravid body and a moan of his name left me as my lust became almost
unbearable.
The coiling knot within my lower body felt more like a nest of live snakes and I felt my hands gripping
the drawer I had pulled out as noises I never made before poured from my mouth. I was dimly aware of
begging him for something as he brought me oh so close to the edge. Then he was leaving me, the
neediness that filled me like hot agony. Tears actually rolled down my pale cheeks as I quickly bit my
lower lip to keep in the begging that wanted badly to spill forth. I had already begging him more than
enough. I had no idea if he had already found the action annoying or if he wanted me to continue and I
found it hard to think with the almost undeniable want consuming me. It felt like if he didn't fuck me or
allow me to orgasm soon, I would either implode or die on the spot.
That was when I felt his body lean over mine, his body heat nearly beating against my naked back. Hot
breath hit the nape of my neck again before he was pressing himself against me to bite my earlobe. “Does
my little slut need me t'fuck her, t'show her where her place is?” he breathed, his voice an unsteady,
throaty growl. Hands came up to fondle my pendulous breasts, flicking my nipples until my milk flowed
over his fingers.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, my tone utterly submissive as I felt him begin to tub his tip along my quivering
lips.
One of his hands let go of me to wrap in my hair and give a hard yank as he laved his tongue slowly up my
jugular. Knowing he could feel my racing pulse through the sensitive muscle, I whimpered as I
unconsciously rubbed my thighs to gain some sort of relief from the blazing fire within me. “Beg fer it
then. Let me hear jest how much ya need my cock inside ya,” came a demand as his tip entered me ever so
slightly.
“Please Otis, I need it! I-I need it so much I can't breathe! Please fuck me!” I practically howled, not caring
if the entire house heard me.
“Good girl Raven,” grunted the psychotic male before he was taking me in one thrust.
A pleasured scream of his name left me as he stilled briefly, breathing hard through gritted teeth as his
steel hard manhood pulsed inside my tight canal. Every inch of him filled me, his balls resting against my
clit as he seemed to gather himself. “Hang on tight,” advised a voice that made gooseflesh scatter across
my arms. I barely had enough time to do as he had ordered before he was taking me hard and rough.
Wails and guttural noises of pleasure seemed to be forced up out of my body as his hips slammed into me.
I was dimly aware of his own noises in response to mine, the coil of need within me tightening until it
was white hot. Then I was imploding and exploding at the same time, barely able to distinguish which
direction was up as I felt Otis empty into me.
“Ah fuck, fuck,” gasped the murderer, shaking slightly as he shifted.
Instead of pulling out and getting dressed like I was used to, the thin male simply stayed where he was;
breathing hard as his hands rested on my distended belly. “We got work t'do today,” he declared, while
not moving a single muscle. Twitching, stubble dusted lips came to rest on where my right shoulder met
my neck. It wasn't a kiss per-say, more like a touch and he inhaled deeply as he wrapped me into one of
his strange, hug-like holds as every part of him seemed to melt into me.
“Mmmm, you don't seem all that worried about 'work',” I found myself purring in an almost sassy manner
as I gave him a squeeze with my inner walls. Just hearing it nearly made my heart stop in my chest. It
certainly didn't help that the unpredictable beast had gone absolutely still over me.
Then there was a gruff, strange sound that almost sounded like a weird coughing. Yet it wasn't and the
longer it went on, the more it changed into something I could almost recognize as laughter. “Yer actually
talkin' back t'me now. My, you have gotten brave,” he chuckled, the sound barely being a chuckle in the
first place. I could feel terror crawl over my skin in an icy wave and I prayed for my death to be
painless as the 'laughter' continued.
“You know, not even Baby speaks back t'me,” came a gruff voice by my ear as the hands that had been on
my stomach moved to grip my hips in a painful manner.
Closed my hazel eyes, I fought against my terrified tears as my heart tried to beat its way out of my
chest. I didn't waste breath begging or reminding him of everything we had gone through during our five
month long relationship. If he had decided to kill me for disrespecting him, everything I tried to do to
stop it would only aggravate the situation further. Against my will, one of my tears escaped to roll
down my cheek as I began to shake slightly. When a callused thumb brushed the moisture away, I
initially flinched out of instinct. The digit twitched for a moment before the whole hand was cradling
my left cheek. “I ain't gonna hurt ya,” came a whisper as he touched his lips between my shoulder blades.
“You should know that by now. Besides, ya were only playin' and I gotta say I like that ya have the
gumption to talk t'me like that in private. Jest don't do that in front of th'others,” he continued, pulling
back to give my butt another light smack before he pulled his flaccid member from me.
Feeling a fair share of relief, I straightened before continuing to search for a shirt as well as some pants.
Mama had loaned me some of her maternity clothes and most of them were still a bit too big. Some of
them, however, fit depressingly well. Thankfully, not all of them were neon pink or looked like something
the sixties had thrown up on. Pulling out a red top, I tugged out a pair of maternity jeans as well. Still
feeling his cum dribbling down my inner thighs, I pulled on my clothes as I tried to reconcile the fact
that I had just gotten away with what would have amounted to playful banter to anyone else. “I know
better than to do that,” I whispered as I began to look for my tennis shoes.
“Yeah, I have no doubt ya do. Come on downstairs, we're gonna set out some more decorations and I want
yer help,” Otis replied before walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him.
When I found my shoes, I followed suit; wincing when I heard very male screams coming from Baby's
room. My stomach turned at the thought of what she was doing to Jerry and I forced myself to continue
walking. As I made my way down the hall, I saw Hugo's room and fought the urge to give it a wide berth.
Surely the old man wasn't dumb enough to try anything after the last time. As I walked by, the door
opened wider and a pair of hands shot out to grab my mouth and breasts; instantly proving me wrong.
Before I could do anything, I was yanked back into his room. An ancient TV played a race with muddy
sound while the picture flickered with static. His rotten breath filled my world as the hand clutching my
breasts moved to my bulging stomach. “If ya know what's gewd fer ya, you'll let me do what I please and
not tell that asshole downstairs,” he hissed. I could only nod, knowing it was best to let this be done and
over with so I could escape downstairs.
“If ya tell shithead anythin' 'bout this, I'll cut that child out of your stomach and rape it so its the last
thing ya see as ya die,” he threatened and I made a show of acting frightened and submissive. I knew all
too well this man would never get to carry out his threats if he did what I was guessing he was going to.
It was only a few minutes, he had only managed to fondle one of my breasts under my shirt before he was
going limp as he jizzed in his pants. Then he was shoving me out of the room, giving me a last warning
before slamming it shut. I could only stand there with my mouth hanging open before I scampered down
the stairs holding my mouth to keep in the laughter. The situation had been as hilarious as it was
horrifying and I had to compose myself before continuing down, sure they would think I had finally
snapped under all the pressure. Unfortunately, Otis had most definitely noticed my short absence and had
come to look for me; finding me on the staircase. I could only imagine the picture I presented to him, my
cheeks high with color as I seemed to be stuck between extreme disgust and hilarity.
He closed the small amount of distance rapidly, taking me into his arms as his nose burrowed into my
skin. When he pulled away, he had cold murder in his icy eyes. Before I could try to stop him, the killer
was going upstairs and I felt my heart plummet into the pit of my stomach. Moving to go down again, I
was greeted with the sight of Mama and Baby running to the foot of the stairs with identical concerned
expressions on their faces. When they saw me, the younger of the pair moved first; ushering me down as a
disgusted grimace crossed her beautiful face. “Dun worry sis. Otis dun take kindly t'those that mess with
what's his,” she whispered while her mother watched with confusion in her blue eyes.
“Grandpa's been messin' with our Raven here. Been threatenin' her,” the murderess leading me explained as
she steered me to the living room. This caused the normally friendly matron's eyes to go cold as her pink
lips thinned. Just then an old man's scream came from upstairs only to be quickly cut off by a slam that
shook the entirety of the house.
Instead of looking concerned, the duo only nodded; Baby turning on the TV before Mama left. “She'll be
right back. She's havin' R.J. finish what yer lover boy started. Somehow doubt Otis'll be too keen on
th'project he had in mind now,” she explained, grimacing as another burst of activity came from the upper
floor. I could only laugh in response, a bit surprised by her ridiculous observation. I finally stopped when
I noticed the consternation in her expression.
“What? Fuck's sake, its not like its you or Mama we're talking about here. I doubt he'd want to stop a
project over something I didn't even get hurt from,” I pointed out, that disquiet from earlier fluttering
back to life when her shocked expression became oddly sympathetic.
“Ya don't git it do ya?” whispered the blonde, her brow slightly furrowed as she looked almost sad for me.
I tilted my head slightly and opened my mouth to respond when something heavy rolled down the stairs
behind us and landed on the floor with a crash.
We both turned to see 'Grandpa' lying there, blood pouring from his crooked nose and sunken in mouth as
he lifted his head slowly. His white hair and beard were plastered to his face with sweat as well as blood.
His faded eyes rose to look at us for help but we merely turned back to the TV as if what was going on
didn't concern us. We could hear him cussing us out is a blood choked voice, faint dragging sounds coming
from where he had landed. Then we heard boots stomping down the stairs, followed by the cessation of
the dragging noise. “Whatever ya hear, don't look. Otis wouldn't want ya t'see him like this,” the woman
beside me advised, her own eyes fixed on the screen in front of us.
Like most people, her statement only made me more curious. I had seen Otis do some horrible things,
surely this couldn't be that different. When I heard another loud slam come from far too close, I didn't
resist the urge to turn my head. “Some people gotta learn th'hard way,” Baby sighed in a long suffering
tone, making no move to stop me. What I saw made everything I thought I knew about the ghoul go
flying out the window. His normally cruel visage was twisted into something demonic, his blue eyes dark
with outright rage as his upper lip pulled into a snarl. If he had fangs, he would have been snapping them
as his right hand wrapped tightly around the older man's neck.
It was obvious by just how tense his wiry arm was that he was bearing down with all his strength, his
breath leaving him in heated hisses. The old man's skin spilled from between gaps in his fingers and his
face was beginning to turn an alarming purple as he gargled. I don't know what possessed me but I was up
and moving toward the pair, ignoring Baby's attempts to catch the back of my shirt. My heart thudded
hard as fear dumped into my veins, still my feet moved me towards the possessed killer. Watching my
hands raise as if they belonged to someone else, they wrapped around his thin waist as a purr bubbled out
of me. As he went stiff beneath me, I came to the realization that some part of me was enjoying the fact
he was taking care of a threat to me and our child.
For a few minutes, we stood there; his grip loosening enough to allow Hugo a few shallow breaths as his
now dark blue eyes shifted to look at me without turning his head. I met his gaze unflinchingly, feeling
just the smallest hint of lust seeing him this out of control. Giving a submissive whimper, I craned myself
up to press a kiss to where his jaw met his neck before allowing my gaze to travel to the gasping
geriatric. Otis let out a gruff rumble, seeming to accept my presence as his eyes moved back to my
tormentor. Then he was lifting the older man into the air by his neck, heading to the basement and
detaching himself from me.
I moved to follow when I felt a hand on my wrist stop me. When I turned my head to look, I saw Baby
giving me an incredulous glance. “Ya aren't really thinkin' of followin' him after that look he gave ya,” she
whispered. I opened my mouth to answer when the ghoul stopped in his tracks and let loose a low rumble
that chilled my blood.
“Leave her,” he ground out, not even lookin at us as he simply waited. He didn't have to wait long, the
blonde dropping my wrist as if it was made of hot iron the instant he finished speaking.
For a few moments, I stood in place; some part of me wanting to follow while the other was scared and
desperately just wanted to go back to watching TV. “Come,” came his voice again, demand clear in his tone
and settling the manner. Giving a nod he couldn't see, I skittered forward until I had closed the distance;
placing a hand on his upper back to let him know my position. It was only then that he kept moving.
Following closely, I hazarded a glance back to see Baby looking like she had just stepped into a world that
made no sense. I couldn't really blame her with everything that had happened.
Soon, I found myself led toward the basement; running into Mama on our way by. When she saw the state
Otis was in, let alone the fact that I was following him; she got a very nervous expression on her pudgy
face. As much as it seemed she wanted to, she said nothing as we continued to the stairs that led
downstairs. “Go sit with Tiny,” my deadly companion hissed, taking point in the dim light and continuing
toward the cage that held the women the family had collected. Only 'Red's' sister was left of the original
group that had come in while I was here. None were left of the previous women. As for the most recent
group of cheerleaders, only three were left of the group of five. All of them were beaten, unwashed and
underfed, some of their eyes holding no more than the rudimentary awareness an animal would have.
Shuddering at the sight, I did as he said as went to the gentle giant sitting at the lone table.
The man towered over me at eight feet tall at least. Such a height was unnatural to humans and it
showed in some of the deformities in his body. His skull was misshapen, as were his arms. His skin was also
horrendously burned from when his father had tried to burn him alive for being part of a family of
'demons'. Though, after what I had seen, I couldn't really blame Earl for thinking like that. Giving him a
smile, I motioned for the notepad around his neck. Smiling at me behind his homemade, leather mask, he
lifted the chain over his head. Once normal looking hands had been reduced to flippers due to his skin
melting and singeing in the fire. Just seeing them made my heart ache for the pain he must have gone
through, all at what had seemed to be the age of twelve according to the movies.
Taking the small pad, I wrote 'How are you feeling today?'; ignoring the groans of pain coming from Hugo
as I gave it back. Holding it up to his eyes, he mouthed the words before giving me a grin full of missing
teeth. Then he was giving me a thumbs up while nodding vigorously. This was followed by him gesturing
to my large belly and clapping lightly, telling me in his own way that he was happy about the coming
child. I gave a wide grin in return to show I was just as happy. That was when an idea came to me and I
gestured for the notebook. Ignoring the metallic noises and pained whimpers, I began to draw one of the
many characters I had made long before I came here. Oddly enough, I chose to draw a lion version I had
drawn of Otis when I was really big into 'Lion King'. I had been young but the design had just stuck and I
had even started seeing him as the lion when I watched the movies.
When I was done, I slid the doodle over the table; inwardly happy my talent hadn't faded after not being
used for so long. Tiny knew immediately who it was and was utterly enchanted, making small noises as he
carefully tore it out to hang on his wall. Next thing I knew, he was gesturing from himself to the
drawing. Nodding to show him I understood, I pulled the notebook book back toward me and began to
draw more. I was so engrossed in what I was doing, that I didn't notice how quiet it had gotten in the
spacious room. I had just put the finishing touches on my masterpiece when I became very aware of the
sensation of being watched. Blinking, I looked up to see my large companion staring at a point over my
shoulder.
Turning around slowly, I saw Otis standing there; staring at what I had drawn. I had drawn a lion
version of Tiny, mask and all. As the delighted mute took it, the killer's eyes slowly moved to the one I
had drawn of him; the icy orbs shimmering briefly with recognition. Then they were back on me,
unreadable as he didn't so much as move a muscle. “Come,” he whispered again, turning to head upstairs. I
followed without question, letting him lead me outside and to one of the many sheds around where the
family kept several of the cars they had taken from victims.
As we walked, I saw R.J. stuffing a familiar looking body into the trunk of a car. Upon closer inspection,
the car belonged to the quartet we had taken last night. The body was one of the cheerleaders from the
second batch, the words 'Trick or Treat' cruelly carved onto her side. Then we were going inside and my
focus was forced onto something even more horrifying, the upper torso of Bill on a metal gurney; the
giant fish he would be sewn to laying behind him. Beside the gurney and tied to a chair was Mary,
unconscious with a filthy look rag serving as a gag in her mouth. Motioning me to stay put, Otis stalked
forward to give her a kick to the shin and bring her back to awareness.
The poor female snapped awake with a jolt, leaning as far away from the towering monster as her binds
would allow. Sneering, the wraith cut her ties before wrestling her into a hold. As I watched, he mimed
something that looked like the first project we had ever worked on together. His bony hips ground into
the teen's as his hands helped her lift the torso onto the fish half. Mary could only shake her head
wildly, shrill screams of negation escaping her as he forced her fingers into the ribcage. Then he was
forcing her to sew it together, his skilled hands making it look like Bill had been born that way.
Next he was forcing her to saw off his right arm, making the hysterical teen pick up a withered limb that
belonged to someone long dead. It was almost like watching a strange dance, Otis' lanky body melded to
hers as they moved in perfect unison. Even the girl's hiccuping and pleas didn't break the surreal spell,
not even when the killer forced her to pop her lover's left eye free of the socket and sew the eyelid shut.
His final touch was forcing her to glue the eye lower on his cheek before walking backward with the
shaking child held tight. A hand held her chin in a hold that had to be painful, forcing Mary to look at
what she had done to a man she had loved.
The eighteen year old screamed before vomiting and passing out cold, the monster holding her simply
allowing her to drop. Then he was turning on me, his sky blue eyes pinning me to the spot as he slowly
stalked forward. Yanking my chin up, his eyes seemed to search mine as he leaned forward to inhale my
scent deeply. To say I wasn't scared would be lying by I could sense he wasn't going to hurt me. Letting go
to grab my wrist, he pulled me through the yard and back into the house; his expression deadly and
unreadable. “At least R.J. got those decorations done. Jest glad they knew better than to touch my main
project,” he hissed, taking me upstairs and into our room. As he shut the door, he let go to walk into the
'Prep Room'; leaving me feeling very confused.
When he came back, he had his sketchbook and pencils. Shoving the items at me, he went back into the
other room and turned on some music. Feeling more than a little confused, I simply took a guess and
began to draw his family as lions; with the obvious exception of Hugo. When that was done, I focused on
him; drawing something I hadn't in a couple years at least. When I became an animator, I had left a lot of
my childhood characters behind; especially the ones based on copyright characters. I found myself
drawing him doing many of the things I had seen him doing and even some I hadn't but could see him
doing. I was so engrossed that I feel asleep mid-doodle, never seeing him come in but feeling him pull the
book out from under my body and hearing pages flip as I slipped further into unconsciousness.

F.U.B.A.R.
WARNING!!: Skinning of Someone Alive! Psychological Torture! Gore! More Extreme Parts Marked With **
Author's Note: More unpleasantness ahead and some more slight changes in events. The movie couldn't
have gotten everything spot on and I heard there was an uncut version of the original movie that was
lost.

Chapter Sixteen: F.U.B.A.R.

It was later the same night that I was awoken by Otis pulling me to my feet and dressing me, reminding
me of the days I had first come here. Instead of fighting, I simply let the ghoul do as he pleased; blinking
when I found myself in a rather form fitting, red dress. It even complimented my pregnant dome, a feat
in and of itself. Then he was yanking me behind him, leading down the hall towards the wall at the end
instead of the stairs. Still a bit dazed, I just looked around for a few minutes to see the dimness of the
light around me. “What time is it?” I whispered, not knowing why I was trying to stay quiet but finding it
felt right.
“Goin' on six at night. We got some more work t'do but ya wouldn't wake up fer anythin'. Decided t'jest let
ya be. Ya missed th'excitement earlier. We had a visitor in th'form of one of th'slut's fathers. Turns out he
used t'be part of a police force and we all know those damn pigs always travel in packs. It'll only be a
matter of time afore a few of his friends come sniffin' around here fer his ass and his daughter,” the
killer sneered, his words waking me up like a splash of ice water over my body.
“Was there anyone else with him?” was the first thing out of my mouth as fear and apprehension began to
fill me.
“He was alone but that sure as shit doesn't mean he didn't call his old buddies,” my dangerous companion
replied, turning to look at me at he reached up for a door in the ceiling.
Giving a hard yank to a handle, he pulled until the door to the attic slid down; the attached ladder
sliding downward ever so slightly. There was a faint light up there as well as masculine groaning, yet
none of this chilled me as much as what he told me had. Denise's father hadn't come here alone in the
movie. He had called the station that was in the city a half hour away from the house and had gotten
two men to come along with him. That was when I became aware of a strange, almost electric energy in
the air; Mama cackling joyfully downstairs as a woman sobbed pitifully. It was the night of the sacrifice
and everything was going so right while still going very wrong. “He wasn't supposed to be alone,” I
replied, vaguely aware of our child rolling inside me due to my distress.
Otis froze, instant comprehension shining in his blue eyes. Then he was turning to grab my shoulders in a
painful grip, glaring down at me as his nostrils flared. “How many were with him originally?” he rasped,
not even questioning what I was talking about.
“T-two more, a sergeant and his partner. Also, they were supposed to be here in the afternoon. What time
did he show up?” I asked, urgency and fear fighting for dominance inside me as I met his furious gaze
steadily.
“He came knocking on our door near sunset. Wanted to know if'n his daughter and her friends had driven
through on their way to their next destination. Mama invited him inside and I took care of it,” he replied,
almost seeming a bit scared himself.
For a few moments, we stared at eachother in silence as we tried to figure out what this meant. Then he
was grabbing my wrist to yank me up into the attic, a grim expression on his grizzled face. As soon as we
walked into the room, a gaunt, kind looking, elderly man looked up at us; his eyes going wide as they
landed on me. His adam's apple worked as he swallowed around the grungy, cloth gag in his mouth. Just
seeing his confusion made a furious grin curl Otis' lips instead of the building anxiety. Wrapping a muscled
arm around my waist, he pulled me with him as he closed the distance to our victim. “Good evenin'. I know
yer wonderin' what happened t'yer daughter but don't worry, you'll find out soon,” purred the monster as
he left my side to go back downstairs.
This left me alone with Don, a man who loved his daughter. Just thinking about what should have
happened made my heart twist for what could happen right now. In the movie, this guy had been shot in
the back and his dead body had been skinned as a strange sort of costume for the ghoul that had just left.
The retired officer was alive, alive and staring at the ball-like dome of my belly. Sighing, I bent down as
best as I could to stare into his eyes. “I get the sense you want to chat. If I remove this gag and you
scream, I won't hesitate to make sure you regret it,” I hissed, forcing every drop of anger in my body into
those words. Unfortunately I sounded more sorry than forceful and his eyes almost gained a sympathetic
light as he nodded. He likely thought I was one of the victims doing what I could to stay alive. That I
was being forced into all of this.
Maybe it would be easier for him to make assumptions at the moment. He would change his mind as soon
as he saw how his tormentor acted around me. As much as others would probably scoff at it, I was fairly
certain Otis loved me in his own way. He had even stopped hurting me as often, a huge improvement in my
opinion. Reaching forward, I removed the cloth strip from his mouth. “A-are you… I mean, have you…,”
he stammered, his voice slightly raspy from lack of water as his dry tongue unconsciously moved to lick
his cracked lips. Some part of me wished I could give him water and I sighed as I made a guess about what
he meant.
“I'm not sure you really want the answers to those. Still, I'm sure you can tell by the way I'm talking
that I'm not a normal victim. Nor am I a 'normal' killer,” I explained, straightening when I heard
footsteps along with a dragging sound and female pleading.
“That… that sounds like Denise,” gasped the much older man as he struggled against the ropes binding
him to a chair.
“Knowing Otis, it probably is,” I sighed, brushing a strand of my black hair behind an ear as I watched the
head of my lover appear in the hole in the floor that lead down.
“Sounds like ya already took that thing outta his mouth. Find out anythin' good?” growled the monster as
he started to come up the ladder. Just below his chin, I could only see the top of a brunette head.
“Denise?!” Don gasped, straining even harder against the thick rope holding him.
“Dad?!” came a hysterical response, a surge of movement making the wraith grunt as he tightened his hold
on the struggling teen. Climbing the rest of the way into the attic, he revealed a sobbing woman who
looked a lot like Mary. Then he was letting her go, watching as she rushed to her father and began to
check him over for injury, seeming to temporarily forget just what her situation was.
While this went on, I felt a presence behind my back as hands settled on my growing belly. “Go on over
there and hand me th'things I ask fer. I want our lil bitch here to experience what real family bondin' is,”
hissed a raspy mid-tone as the thin male walked around to grab the sobbing eighteen year old into a tight
hold. She let out an impressive shriek, her dad looking to me with fear filled, pleading eyes.
“Please, please! You aren't like them! I can see some shred of humanity in you and you find as much
distaste in this as anyone else would,” came a plea I was becoming increasingly familiar with.
“I'm more like them than you'd think. I've seen things, done things that most people would faint from the
mere thought of. If you think your words or tears will stop any of this from happening, you're sadly
mistaken. Not only would my life be forfeit but I don't want to. Stopping this would probably mean having
to fight the entire family and neither of you are worth that,” I replied quietly, moving over to a metal
table that had been set up near Don. On said table, there was an array of knives laid out on a rough strip
of fabric.
“Is this the kind of life you want to bring your child into?! Christ! Do what's right here! Bash him on the
back of the head and knock him out! Do something! Once I get free, you can team up with me and my
daughter and we can all get out of here,” snarled the retired officer as Otis let out a chilling bark of
laughter while the teen continued to sob hysterically.
His words gave me pause and I closed my eyes as I gripped the metal sides of the small platform the
weapons were on. He had a good point, this really wasn't the type of environment fit for a child. There
was also Otis. How well would he treat a child? How long would it take before he killed them simply
because he had run out of patience? Then again, he had far more control with those he considered family
than he did with the unfortunate victims. While the child would no doubt end up as twisted as the rest
of them, it would at least have a family that cared for it. “No. Are you deaf as well as stupid? This is my
family too and I won't let anyone hurt them, not even myself,” I whispered, allowing my hands to run
over the implements absently. As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew they were more true than I
had expected.
“Toss over th'skinnin' knife,” hissed the wraith from his position, the implications making nausea surge up
inside me.
Due to watching my father dress many a wild animal, I knew exactly what he meant. My hand
automatically went to a thin, sharp blade with a curled tip. In one motion, I turned and tossed the
implement at the same time; watching as he caught it while using one arm to keep hold of Denise. After a
short scuffle, he had the sobbing girl positioned in front of him and had forced the blade into her right
hand with his. Not wanting to watch but unable to stop, my eyes followed as he pushed her forward. The
bound man looked from me to my horrible lover, a hate filled look coming onto his wrinkled visage. Then
the wraith restraining his daughter forced her to begin cutting along his jawbone.
**Blood flowed instantly, dribbling down his slightly saggy skin as he made a sound of pain. “I'm sorry
daddy! I don't mean to! H-he's making me, oh God please stop,” she begged, actually backing into her captor
in her desperation to get away. This only made my twisted lover laugh louder as he continued to force
the blade along the other man's jawline. By the time he was finished, there was a bleeding outline around
the edge of the elderly man's face. Knowing what was going to come next, I forced myself to observe; well
aware of the killer's pale eyes on me. Giving me a grin that chilled my blood, the beast forced the child to
insert the curved tip of the knife he was forcing her to hold into the cut on his left cheek.
While the eighteen year old continued to sob, becoming more and more hysterical; Otis skillfully moved
her hand so the delicate blade would separate the skin from the muscle. Don, of course, let out a scream
of pain as his face was slowly, agonizingly removed from his skull. He was conscious for the entire ordeal,
feeling his nerves and blood vessels separating from the muscle. Not to mention the noises that came
from the action. It was like a strange squelching noise, then a wet tearing as the next section came free.
In moments, he pulled the man's face off with his daughter's hands; red strings of blood following the
floppy bit of flesh.
There was something horribly surreal about watching bloody tissue tense and move as the still conscious
man screamed. His teeth and eyes were almost an unnatural white against the mass of reds, the skin
below only drawing attention to the fact his face was missing. The girl was dry heaving uncontrollably
as the beast holding her continued to laugh, making her draw the knife in a line down the neck. The
retired officer could only strain against the ropes as he vocalized his agony as he was skinned alive. All
at once it was too much and I was vomiting onto the floor, the splashing noise seeming to halt what was
going on.**
Despite proving he wouldn't hurt me unless I did something to well and truly piss him off, I felt fear spike
inside me as I dimly heard him summon me to him. Wiping the last of the puke on my lips onto the back of
my hand, I nodded before skirting around the puddle I had made. “I'll clean it up,” I offered in a voice so
quiet that I wasn't entirely sure he heard me over Denise and her father.
“Go on and git th'supplies,” Otis husked out, his tone strangely soft despite the fury written all over his
pale visage. I only nodded as I didn't know just how angry he was with me for my continued
squeamishness.
**As I moved to the hatch that lead down, I heard him call my name again and turned to look at him
instantly. While still glowering, there was just the faintest bit of worry in his blue eyes. It was so faint,
I had to wonder if it was wishful thinking on my part. Then his frown eased ever so slightly, just enough
to let me know he was trying convey something without words. Giving him a small smile, I went down
the rickety steps as my stomach continued to flip like it was caught in a washing machine. I barely made
it to the bathroom before I was blowing chunks again, the image of the strings of gooey blood connecting
the almost transparent flesh of the face to the muscle it had been pried from.**
Over and over, I heaved; the sounds and images swirling around my head until I felt quite dizzy. Shaking
from over exertion and stress, I leaned my sweaty forehead against the cool bowl of the toilet and
sobbed as quietly as I could; my stomach still cramping. A hand on my upper back nearly made me fly to
the ceiling and I spun to see Baby looking at me with concern written all over her young face. “W-would
you go get some stuff to clean vomit off a hardwood floor and bring it up to the attic? I made a bit of a
mess,” I whispered, smiling weakly as my pregnant body continued to shake almost violently.
“Yer not a killer are ya… Ya never were and never wanted t'be. Yet yer puttin' yerself through alla
this… Wai?” whispered the blonde, her brow crinkling in confusion and slight fear.
I opened my mouth, only to be struck by a fresh wave of memories and winding up with my head in the
toilet. I was vaguely aware of Baby pulling my hair back for me and felt grateful for her presence. “A-ask
Otis. He knows exactly what's going on. Well, most of it…,” I murmured, shuddering as I tried and failed
to shake the images out of my head. Unfortunately, another scream of agony came from upstairs; bringing
with it a violent wave of dry heaving due to the fact I was too aware of what was happening above us.
“I ain't leavin' ya like this but Otis'll wonder where ya went. Hang on big sister… Jest ya hang on a
moment,” came an assurance before I heard footsteps heading toward the door. Turning my head slightly,
I saw the murderess in the doorway with her head poking around the door-frame.
“Mama? Would ya bring a mop up to th'attic fer me? I gotta help Raven with somethin',” she called, her
voice echoing in the long corridor.
Within moments, I heard the footsteps of a heavier set person; the matriarch of the clan appearing in the
open entry. Her concerned eyes moved from Baby to me before she pursed her pink lips and nodded,
heading upstairs to do as she had been asked. Whirling to face me, the younger woman turned to give me
a very gentle smile. “Try to think of anythin' else. Ya ever see a movie called 'Cujo'?” she asked, making me
smile despite the misery I felt. Thankfully the child I carried stayed still and didn't add to the pile by
kicking at an inopportune moment.
“Stephen King is one of my favorite authors. That movie was one of the better ones based on his work,” I
replied, wiping my clammy forehead as I got to my unsteady legs. It almost felt like trying to stand on
water and if it hadn't been for Baby, I would have fallen flat on my face.
“Easy,” she hissed, steadying me and steering me to the sink.
Once close enough, I grabbed the sides in a tight grip and braced. The blonde next to me turned on the
faucet and I scooped the cold water into my mouth while keeping a tight hold on the sink with my left
hand. “Another good one is Carrie,” I whispered, taking slow breaths in an effort to calm my heart rate.
“Yeah that one was great! Another favorite of mine is 'Rocky Horror Picture Show',” Baby replied
brightly, rubbing my back before helping me walk out of the bathroom.
When I started to head to the stairs that lead back up to the attic, I was stopped by a sharp tug on my
arm. As I turned to look at the other woman, she was looking both apologetic and firm. “I cain't let ya go
back up there. We're gonna go on ahead downstairs and try t'git ya calmed down,” she declared before
pulling me the opposite way down the hall. I could only comply, silently agreeing with her. If I went back
up there, I would only wind up much more sick and have a lot more unpleasant images to dwell on. There
was also the very real possibility that the stress would bring on premature labor, something that neither
me or my unborn child would survive.
After a few moments of walking in silence, Baby gave my hand a light yank to draw my attention. When
I looked over to her, she looked almost apprehensive as her cerulean eyes moved over me. “Yer not like us
at all but ya also haven't tried to betray us. I jest cain't figure why ya'll would be helpin' mai brother, let
alone us,” she whispered, consternation furrowing her brow as we reached the top of the stairs.
“Are ya really jest figurin' out she ain't like us?” came a thickly southern accented, female voice from
behind us, nearly making us jump to the rafters. Whirling in unison, we saw Mama giving us both a small
smile.
“I knew from the moment she stepped into th'house she didn't have th'same taste fer blood as th'rest of us.
I have no doubt Otis knew too and wanted t'find out jest what on Earth ya were up ta,” explained the
matriarch, motioning for us to continue toward the stairs. As we moved, I found myself running over
what she had said in my head.
In all honesty, I didn't pose much of a threat to the family. I had no experience with weapons, I was
slightly overweight and I was on the short side. It made more sense for them to assess me due to my odd
behavior on my arrival. It certainly helped that I had been extremely obedient and meek since day one.
Yet, I had no doubt in my mind that it would have only taken one small screw up in the early days to
land me in the basement with the rest. While they were curious, they weren't stupid. As we reached the
foot of the stairs, I found myself honestly surprised I had built as much trust as I had in the months I
had lived with them. “I don't mean any harm to any of you,” I whispered, allowing them to lead me into
the living room and sit me on the couch.
“I know darlin', don't ya worry yer lil head 'bout any of that. Jest ya sit here and try t'relax. I'll go git
some of my tea fer ya,” fluttered the older woman before she moved out of the room and toward the
kitchen.
As soon as she was gone, Baby was staring at me with new eyes. There was now heavy suspicion and fear
in her gaze and I felt my own terror begin to well within me. Of all the people in the family I didn't want
to make enemies with, she was certainly one of them. Otis held her her opinion in high regard due to
their intimate relationship and the others simply adored her due to being the literal baby of the family.
If she decided to hate me, there would be nothing that could protect me from her. Not even the
psychopath in the attic. While he may have a certain amount of affection for me, I knew better than to
think that would extend to him harming her to protect me. So, when she leaned down until our noses
touched, I simply sat there and met her eyes. “I know this is hard for you to believe, but I would never
hurt anyone here. Not even Hugo. I've had more than enough opportunity to call for help or kill Otis in
his sleep and I haven't. Isn't that enough to prove my intentions to you?” I sighed, feeling weary and
wanting to just crawl under a rock to end my misery.
Pursing her lips, the younger female considered my words carefully. Then she was nodding and taking a
seat beside me, wrapping a loose arm around me until her hand rested on the crest of my baby belly. “Yer
right but… There are jest so many questions,” she whispered, her head coming to rest on my left
shoulder.
“Ask Otis, like I said before. I told him most of why I'm here,” I replied, feeling a pang of sympathy for her
as the fear faded.
“Why not tell me yerself?” she asked, a slight hint of suspicion in her voice.
“Because I doubt you'd believe me. If there's anyone you will believe, no matter how crazy what they're
telling you is, its your brother,” I responded, watching a black and white movie play out on their ancient
television.
“You stop fussin' at her Baby and do as she sez. Otis already tol' me about it while I was up there. Speakin'
of Otis, yew should go on up anyway. He'll be wonderin' where Raven is and we dun want him to git into a
temper t'night,” Mama admonished as she came into the room, giving her youngest a stern look that sent
her skittering to do as was asked of her.
Once she was gone, the heavier female sat on my right and offered me a mug of steaming tea. “Its the
same mix I gave ya fer yer mornin' sickness hunny. Sip it slowly. We dun wanna git ya started agin,” she
whispered soothingly, rubbing my back as I blew on the hot liquid. When it was cool enough, I took a sip;
sighing relief when my lingering nausea instantly abated.
“Are ya gonna be okay fer th'rest of th'night?” she asked, making me wonder what she meant. Then I
remembered and had to take several deep breaths to keep from dry heaving.
“I have to be. I have to be here for what's going to happen. I have to make sure there aren't any more
discrepancies,” I muttered, taking another sip to soothe the fresh wave. The woman beside me nodded
slowly, her pink lips pursed as she fiddled with the white gown she wore.
“I ain't gonna pretend I understand everything I was told but I am grateful for ya tryin' ta look out fer
us,” she whispered, pulling me so I was leaning against her. Painted lips caressed my forehead and I was
struck with a very powerful cramp of homesickness.
Although this killer had treated me as nothing less than her own, she would never be my actual mother.
My mother was in another dimension, thinking I was dead and unaware of her coming grandchild.
Thankfully thundering footsteps that sounded like a herd of elephants approaching distracted me from
my thoughts before they could get much further. Looking up, I saw my violent companion barreling down
the stairs at a fast clip; his jaw tense as he kept his eyes on me. Before he could get too close, Mama did
something that shocked me and Baby, who had been following her 'sibling' as best as she could. She placed
herself between him and the couch, spreading her arms out wide. “She ain't goin' back up there Otis. Ya'll
jest finish what yer doin'. Me an' Baby c'n take care of th'others while she recovers,” she commanded, her
voice holding more authority than I had ever heard from her.
The wraith was just as shocked, his glare disappearing briefly for raised eyebrows. Then his glower
slammed back into place, his icy orbs shifting over her shoulder to lock on me. “Fine. But she's still gonna
fuckin' participate,” he snarled, spinning on his heel to stomp back up the stairs; shoving past Baby on his
way. As soon as he was gone, all the wind went out of Mama's sails and she gave me a rather incredulous
look, as if wondering if she had really done that. Shaking herself she walked up the stairs as well,
grabbing her stunned daughter to drag her up too. I could only sit there, my stomach churning as I
thought about what was coming next. From what I knew, this night was only getting started.

Depths of Darkness
Author's note: And here we go, putting them down in the mine with Dr. Satan. A lot of scenes will be
from the movie but I will do my best to make them my own.

Chapter Seventeen: Depths of Darkness

To say the night devolved from there would be a massive understatement. After making sure I was
settled, Mama and Baby went to get into the white, almost ceremonial dresses I had seen in the movie.
Soon after, R.J. went upstairs as Tiny came up from the basement. Knowing what was to come next, I took
comfort when the gentle giant sat next to me and wrapped a large, misshapen arm around me. It wasn't
too long after that the bearskin covered man was shoving down the two girls and Jerry. While they
were dressed as rabbits, the half conscious male was dressed as a donkey; some of his own scalp glued onto
the head and neck of the costume as a mane. Denise and Mary sobbed against the grimy cloth gags in their
mouths, tears and snot pouring down their faces as they struggled against the ropes binding all three of
them together. All of them had their wrists tied as well, various amounts of blood in their hair and on
their faces.
Getting to my feet and swaying due to the extra weight from my five months of pregnancy, I swung out
my arms to balance myself; only to find Tiny offering his services. Giving him a grateful smile, I allowed
the taller, deformed man to lead me into the hall. We made it in time to watch R.J. hang them from a
meat hook that had been tied to a rafter while I had been upstairs. This suspended the trio enough to spin
them like a display case and I felt a sickening and yet comforting sense of deja-vu. This was what I had
been expecting to happen and I wasn't too surprised when Mama and Baby joined us to coo over the
victims. The matriarch even took a bottle of whiskey off the table to drizzle over them as the hulking
eldest child began to chant for Otis. Looking up at the floorboards above my head, I knew exactly what he
was doing up there.
**Shuddering, I allowed Tiny to lead me to the others; avoiding the gazes of both Mary and Denise as they
were spun around and around. The distraught children simply screamed, crying unintelligible things
around their gags as the two women in the family continued to torment them with jeers and general
touching. Then everything stopped and the entire group turned as one to look at the stairs, myself
included. There, at the top of the stairs was what looked like Don dressed in a red Santa robe. Only he
looked very wrong. There was stitching on his torso and his skin hung loosely off his frame. It was only if
someone took a good look that they would notice it was Otis wearing the cop's skin as a full on costume.
Just seeing it made me shudder and I heard the man's daughter let out a high pitched scream. After
being forced to skin him alive, this had to just make things all the worse. “I'm th'one who brings
th'Christmas candy. Now tell me, who's yer daddy?” snarled the killer, his voice muffled as he moved
down a single step. Then he was turning his hooded, masked head to us and I knew exactly what was going
to come next; something that was both comforting and horrifying.
“I'm th'one who brings th'devil's brandy,” rasped his voice, Mama giggling like a school girl as she leaned
toward the man she considered her son in a seductive manner.
“Who's yer daddy?” she sighed, fluttering her eyes at him as they kept Denise facing forward
purposefully. I had no doubt the ghoul had ordered them to do so just for this.
“I'm th'one who beats ya when yer bad,” he snarled, his glittering eyes traveling to me as he walked down
a couple more steps.
“Who's your daddy?” I whispered before Baby could, moving toward him and ignoring the attempts by the
others to hold me back.
Shooting them a warning glance, the murderer held out a blood coated hand to me as his eyes looked at
me through the ragged, bloody holes where Don's would have been. Placing my hand in his, I felt a shock
of something pass between us and shuddered, allowing him to lead me down the stairs. “Who's your
daddy,” Mama and Baby echoed in unison from below us, Otis only letting me go once we reached the
landing. He made a beeline to the bound trio that hung in the middle of the entryway, taking ahold of a
whimpering Denise and removing her gag so he could hear her clearly. The he was taking the floppy
vestiges of Don's former face to force dead lips against the girl's skin. She flinched and tried to pull away,
shaking her head as the memories visibly flashed across her face.
“Come on, sweetie. Give th'old man some sugar,” he crooned in an almost sickening sweet tone as the lips
made contact with hers a few times.
“Daddy,” she sobbed repeatedly in a distressed tone, as if hoping that calling for him would magically
reverse what she had done upstairs.
Stepping back, the beast flung off the robe to reveal the saggy, wrinkled torso of his victim strapped to
his. This made the poor girl snap as she began to scream almost hysterically, seemingly unable to stop
herself. “And I'm th'one who loves ya when yer fuckin' dead,” he snarled before spinning the trio hard.
This made Mary join the chorus as poor Jerry could only groan, his head lolling bonelessly. He was either
in deep shock or very heavily drugged. Neither would really surprise me at this point. Then he was
stopping it, grabbing hold of Denise's tear-stained face and ripping the mask off his face. With a growl, he
forced his blood coated lips against hers in a violent facsimile of a kiss before meeting her eyes and
lifting his upper lip is a snarl.
“It's all true. Th'bogeyman is real and you found him,” he hissed, gesturing to R.J. to take them outside.**
Next thing I knew, the wraith was dragging me upstairs with him while Mama and Baby stayed on the
ground level. Then we were in his room, the underfed man getting out of his bloody clothing before
digging in his drawers. He seemed to not really care about the blood coating his face and torso and simply
pulled on what looked like a one piece pair of red pajamas. It looked like those really old body suits
people used to wear under their nightshirts or clothes in the past. Then he was stomping into the 'Prep
Room', leaving me to wonder if I should change as well. While I knew what was going to happen, I had no
real idea of what was expected of me. Then again, from what I remembered, the family had put make-up
on their faces before proceeding to walk down to the Well. The Well… just thinking about that place
made made me shudder. The shaft had long ago been dug in the ground where the mines were and the clan
used it to lower new victims down. There was no other way in out out of the mines other than digging
your way out by hand, something I knew Denise would be doing by early the next morning.
I would have to warn Otis about that after and only after they had lowered the coffin holding the poor
girl and Jerry into the shaft of the Well. If I warned him before, it could shift events even further than
they already were and I couldn't take that chance. It was bad enough that Don had come here alone, I
didn't need any further deviations. I could only help these people as long as I knew what was going to
happen. Sighing as my head began to throb from my muddled thoughts, I settled on waiting for my violent
lover to come back. There was no make-up in the room and I had never gone into the 'Prep Room' without
him leading me there or ordering me in. While he had told me I had the same freedom as other family,
that didn't mean I could take liberties.
Thankfully it wasn't too long before he came back, his face cleaned up enough to put on a skull face on his
own with face paint and other substances. His whitish-blonde hair hung in his face and his strange beard
gave him a surreal look. Blue eyes shimmered at me from the black surrounding them and I found myself
feeling more afraid of him than I ever had. The way he stalked toward me didn't help, looking more like
big cat coming up on a sickly antelope than a person. He only stopped when his body was bare inches from
touching mine, his bony chest brushing the tip of my nose every time he inhaled. Next thing I knew, he
was yanking my chin up hard; his painted lips lifting and lowering as if he was fighting with himself.
The hand on my chin traveled to my ebony hair, fisting in the slightly curly locks tight enough to cause
pain. Gasping slightly as tears prickled my eyes, I continued to meet his eyes as my heart hammered in
my chest. The developing child inside me turned uneasily, drawing one of my hands to the taut dome to
try to soothe it. His eyes followed the motion, this seeming to be his breaking point as he took my lips in a
kiss that was more teeth than lips. Tearing away from my mouth with a rumbling growl, he breathed
hard as the hand in my hair tightened ever so slightly. An unconscious whimper left me but I made no
other sound, barely daring to breath as he continued to glare down at me. “Yer too fuckin' soft,” he spat,
giving my hair a yank before releasing me to stomp to mirror to examine just how badly the kiss had
messed up his make-up job.
I could only stand where he left me, fighting frightened sobs as I tried to catch my breath. Even after
everything he had told me, I still expected him to kill me. He was unpredictable, violent and had a nasty
temper. There was a very strong possibility that he would just lose patience with me and decide to turn
me into his next project. Shuddering, I let out a breath when he turned his head slightly and motioned me
to come to him. He hadn't had to touch up anything, so I stepped forward with the knowledge I was
unlikely to get punished. “Go on down first, I'll be right behind ya,” he rasped, the highly detailed skull
make-up making his face look surreal. Giving a nod, I left the room quickly; just happy to have my skin
intact. With the mood he was in, Lord only knew what he would end up doing next.
True to his word, the ghoul dogged my every step; making me feel like I was being chased down the hall
to the stairs. Barely managing to hold onto my calm, I walk to the top of the stair and waiting for him to
catch up, something deep inside me telling me this was the correct action. I turned out to be right, Otis
closing the distance rapidly to offer me his arm. Then he was leading me down, like some twisted prom
date. It didn't help that the rest of them were waiting on the ground floor, Mama and Baby giving us
looks of awe. For the briefest of seconds, I saw a murderous expression on the youngest Firefly's face but
it was gone in the same instant it was there. Besides, the killer was leading me past far too fast to be able
to see anything clearly; leading the procession into the front yard.
The others fell in line behind us, the two women dancing as R.J. and Tiny drug the trio in the rear. As we
cleared the sheds, cars and fence of the back yard; I saw a huge, open field ahead of us. Just on the edge
of the clearing was a forest, faint dots of white barely visible against the dark trunks. Moving forward, I
got the strangest sensation of being almost like a priestess about to perform a ceremony. That's what all
of this felt like, some strange ritual they had made up to appease something. Just what, I wasn't too sure
about. It was then that Mary decided to make a break for it, tearing free of Tiny to make a break for the
forest. Baby only cackled before giving chase, seeming to enjoy the prospect of a hunt.
As if knowing the poor child stood no chance against his psychopathic sister, Otis merely continued to
lead the way forward. The closer we moved toward the woods, the more clear the white dots from
earlier became. Soon I was able to see the all too familiar sight of the graveyard. The graveyard that
had been built to cover up many of Dr. Satan's victims. All people that had been insane, shunned by
society. Then the family had moved here, forming an alliance with the thing below. A partnership that
seemed to have a lot to do with this ceremony we were performing. We just reached the edge of the
cross markers when I heard a scream of agony followed by a witch's cackle that made my skin crawl. An
echo of the scene played in my head and I vaguely heard a phantom of the rhyme she was reciting right
this second.
Shuddering, I moved toward the Well on my own; not caring about the likely confusion I caused by doing
so. It wouldn't be long after this that I would have to blow my cover anyway and I felt it best they find
things out now. Besides, both women already had suspicions and I had no doubt R.J. did as well. Tiny, well
if you knew anything about him you would be as unconcerned about him as I was. While he was huge, he
was too sweet and too simple to be outwardly malicious. Just being around him told me he had some sort
of learning disability. As it was, he was still following me like a lost puppy while Otis had stopped to give
the confused trio the extremely short version of what was going on. It seemed that, as far as the gentle
giant was concerned, I was not a threat.
Soon, I found myself standing on the edge of a huge hole that looked both old and new at the same time.
The longer, more square edges seemed like they were freshly dug while the shaft and hole itself seemed
like it had been there for decades. Craning my neck slightly, I nudged some dirt into the hole with my
toe; my heart pounding as it seemed like a century until it hit the water below. It would have been far
too easy to over balance and tip forward, ending up as another victim for the 'good doctor'. For the
briefest of moments, I nearly considered doing it. The end wouldn't be painless or fast, in fact I was
unlikely to die due to the thing wanting living subjects. Still, a life of oblivious servitude almost seemed
preferable to continuing down this road. I was dimly aware of a voice yelling something in the
background and a large, webbed hand landing on my shoulder.
Next thing I knew, I was being pulled back gently; the motion snapping me back to reality. Realization of
what I had almost done washed over me and I stepped back as my heart began to race. Coming that close
to committing suicide was terrifying and I found myself whirling to huddle into Tiny's chest as
uncontrollable sobs began to pour out of me. “Keep them th'fuck back!” I heard from a fair distance away
before the sound of pounding of boots headed right for us. I could only brace myself before I found myself
torn away from the badly burned giant and spun around to face the man I had come here to save. Blazing
blue eyes took in my tears as well as the fact I was still shaking badly while sobbing. His decorated upper
lip lifted in what looked like disgust and I felt sure that this was it, I had finally used up the last of
whatever patience he had for me.
Instead, he gave me a hard slap; hard enough to snap me out of the state of hysteria I had entered.
Blinking slightly, I took a shaky breath as I rubbed where he hit me. “We got work to do,” I whispered
before he could, smiling slightly at the look of shock that crossed his make-up coated face. Then he was
motioning the family to move forward again, watching as R.J. lifted a limp Jerry into a homemade coffin
that was laying to the right of the hole I had been staring into. As the brute wrangled a struggling,
screaming Denis into the box next, I found my eyes traveling along the long, rough rope that was
attached to the casket. The end of it was attached to a winch, Tiny moving into position to begin raising
the container into the air.
**As it slowly rose enough to be swung over the Well by R.J., I could hear the doomed woman inside it
screaming denials into the night. Ignoring the noise, Otis reached over the pit to turn on a tape recorder
that was attached to the rope; causing a burst of noise to come forth. After a few moments, it became
very clear it was a chant of some sort. Then the ghoul was opening a book, reading something quietly
under the chanting as Tiny began to lower the coffin slowly. Denise's screams for us to stop echoed eerily
off the stone walls of her 'tomb', the box she and her boyfriend were trapped in halting bare inches from
touching the water. From there, it was simply a game of waiting. Waiting until the experiments below
took the offering.**
Despite the fact it had never happened before, there was a faint, underlying tension that the victims
might not be accepted. After what seemed like endless moments, there came a commotion of splashing as
well as the sound of wood tearing from below as new, more distressed screams emanated from below.
Then it all fell quiet and I knew Jerry had been drug off, leaving Denise to fend for herself for the night.
All that was left to do was to burn Mary in what seemed to be a sacrificial offering. Shuddering, I simply
followed the family deeper into the graveyard; some of my sorrow from earlier returning ever so slowly.
I wanted nothing to do with any of this but I was going along with it to ensure these people would live
on. Not for the first time, I found myself wondering why. Why I was doing all of this, putting myself
through all of this Hell.
All too soon, I found myself standing in a circle round a makeshift pyre; Mary's costumed, dead body
strewn on a pile of broken grave crosses. As I watched, R.J. and Tiny began to pour gasoline onto the
mound. I could only shudder as I thought about all the accounts I had heard about the smell of burning
human flesh and hair in documentaries. Some soldiers compared it to the smell of burning pork whiles
others said there was no smell like it in the entire world. Those people said it was the worst thing they
had ever smelled, sinking into your clothes, hair and even your skin. It was something I had never
thought I would experience and now found myself faced head on with the experience. Edging a bit more
towards Mama and Baby, I watched as Otis began to read from his book again; the skull paint making him
look downright frightening as R.J. tossed a guttering match onto the pyre.
With a loud 'fwoomp' the body burst into flame, mother and daughter beginning to dance as a noxious
smoke started to fill the air. It smelled like nothing I had ever smelled before and I found myself coming
very close to vomiting for the second time that night. All I wanted to do was run back to the house and
hide somewhere where no one could find me. Closing my hazel eyes against the sight, I rubbed my arms as
I fought against the urge to hide my nose in my shirt or breathe through my mouth. Neither would help
and the second option would make me puke for sure. The last thing I wanted was to taste this shit. The
only thing that made me open my eyes again was a pair of hands landing on my shoulders.
Looking up, I was unsurprised to see a certain psychopath glaring down at me like I was lower than the
dirt on his boots. The greasy, almost white hair hanging in his face only added to the intimidating air he
gave off. Leaning forward until his lips brushed my ear, his hands tightened on my shoulders painfully as
he whispered, “Head to th'house and go upstairs. I'll be there in a bit.” Then he was gone, heading back to
the bonfire to continue reading passages. I didn't stop to ask questions, simply turning and heading back to
the house as fast as my growing belly would allow me to go. At this point I was just grateful for a chance
to shower, I would worry about the implications about why I was sent back later.
In fact, my brain decided to hold off until I had the shower on full blast. Then and only then, did I begin
to worry about why he had made me go back. It wasn't out of kindness, that was for sure. The man didn't
have a kind bone in his body. Sighing as I began to scrub the stench out of my skin, I closed my eyes and
allowed the pounding water to beat on my upturned face. If he had suddenly lost trust in me, I would
have joined Jerry and Denise down in the labyrinth of tunnels below the false graveyard. Still, that
didn't mean I wasn't looking at some sort of punishment for a slight I had no idea I had committed.
Shaking my head, I finished what could be the last shower I was allowed before turning off the water,
getting out and toweling off.
As soon as I walked into our room, I felt an eerie feeling of danger. The lights were out, making it
impossible to see a few inches in front of my nose. Because of this, I couldn't see if Otis had beat me back
here or what his position was if he had. It would be far too simple to sneak up behind me to slit my
throat. Without warning, I felt someone come up behind me to wrap a hand around my throat; a facial
hair covered cheek pressing against mine as the foul smell of his breath filled my nose. “Ya hate all of
this, I can see it all over ya. Ya also came very close t'killin' yerself and our unborn child. If ya were
anyone else, I'd have jest killed ya myself if ya wanted t'die s'badly,” rasped his furious mid-tone as a
sharp blade came to rest on the skin of my neck.
I instantly froze, barely daring to breath as I felt his knife scrape along where my jugular was. With how
sharp he kept the weapon, all it would take is a flick of his wrist to send my life's blood spurting into the
air. “Ya made me not want t'kill ya. Ya fuckin' made me scared fer yer life. If ya wanted t'screw us over,
it would be far too easy. Even now I don't have th'stomach t'kill ya. Do ya have any idea what that does
t'mah fuckin' head?! I'm supposed t'protect this fam'ly, t'make sure anythin' that comes in won't hurt us.
Fer th'first time in mah life, I find myself in a position where I may not be able t' hold up on that
promise,” he bit out, hatred tinging his raspy voice as he bit my cheek hard enough to draw blood; causing
an unconscious scream to issue from my lips.
As suddenly as he grabbed me, the beast was shoving me away from him; the extra weight from my unborn
child nearly making me fall on my face. It was only a quick balancing act as well as some luck from God
that kept me from doing so and I instinctually spun to face the place he had been. I knew he wasn't there
anymore and even if he was I couldn't see him but I was simply unable to stop the automatic movement.
“She's going to escape,” I called into the inky void surrounding me, just hoping he was listening. With what
he said and how he was acting, I had no real idea if he still believed what I had told him all those months
ago.
“How,” came a demand from behind me, making me spin once again; only to be greeted by an impenetrable
wall of darkness.
“She wasn't caught by the crazies and made her way to the Doctor. He sics Earl on her and he chases her
through the mines. When he gets her cornered, the dumbass is going to knock some support beams down in
the mine and crush himself. I can only assume she digs her way out. She'll pop out near the back road in
the woods,” I replied, doing my best to keep control of a rising hysteria. While I still feared for my life
and my well-being, I was much more concerned that he listened to me.
The empty silence that followed only made me more uneasy, my only companion the sound of my heart
thudding in my ears. Then there was a scraping noise before something sharp tapped the tip of my nose. “I
guess we're gonna see first hand if yer fulla shit or not,” hissed a throaty rasp before the air shifted in
front of me. The next thing I knew, light was flooding the room; causing me to shield my eyes as they
began to burn like acid had been poured on them.
“Problem is, I jest cain't figure out why ya would lie about somethin' like this in th'first place. There's jest
no logic to it,” growled a confused mid-tone behind me, making me turn blindly towards the source of the
noise.
“I would never betray you, I don't care what I have to do to prove it to you but its the truth. I… I
fucking… ah, Jesus,” I faltered, trembling on the cusp of telling him how I felt about him. He never
seemed much for sentiment and I had no idea just how he would react.
“Spit it th'fuck out!” he screamed from much closer, making me jolt slightly from shock. Now I was trapped
and I had a set amount of time to say it before he lost the last shreds of his thin control.
Taking a deep, I forced myself to stare straight ahead as my heart beat so hard that it was difficult to
breathe; the pain in my eyes gradually fading away as my vision cleared. Sure, I had screamed it in a
moment of passion or had confessed it very early on but I didn't make a habit out of telling him.
Something deep inside had always told me it was a bad idea to tell him in the first place. “It's nothing I
haven't said before. I love you Otis. I know it sounds like a line a victim would say out of desperation but
I would never say something like that if I didn't mean it,” I replied, waiting for his response as I stared
at the artwork covered wall in front of me.
“Yeah, ya keep sayin' that,” he growled before I found myself scooped up into his arms to be carried and
lightly tossed onto the ancient mattress we shared.
Looking up at him, I saw he was naked and looked freshly showered as well; leaving me to wonder just
where he had washed. Did Baby or Mama have their own bathroom? Did Hugo's former room? A hard pinch
to my nipple through the dress I wore brought me back to reality as a gasp left my lips. Green clashed
with blue as our eyes locked, the faintest hint of a smirk touching his mouth as his knife cut through the
red material covering my pregnant body. Any further discussion was soon thrown to the wayside, the
wraith beginning to take me roughly; the sounds of my screams echoing through the house.

**: Section contains scenes and dialogue from 'House of a Thousand Corpses'. Material (c) Relevant people.

Frightful Peace
Author's Note: And things settle down… Surely that can't be a bad thing, right?

Chapter Eighteen: Frightful Peace

A month and a half of silence, stillness; no sign of the other officers at all. It was enough to make me feel
like I was losing my mind. Not only were the cops supposed to have come with Don in the first place, I had
expected them to be here already. The only bit of excitement we had in a month and a half was the day
after we had dumped the kids in the Well to Dr. Satan's lair. Otis had left the room early that morning,
prompting me to follow him to see what he was doing. When I saw he was called Spaulding from the
hidden cubby under the stairs, it hit me full force that he took me extremely serious.
After a heated yelling match with the old clown, he convinced the man to come by the house to pick him
up before driving down the back road I had described. I was relegated to waiting at home, given that
Dennis would have recognized me and would have drawn a correlation. If she had decided to run, it would
have made a very simple job more complicated than it needed to be. So I waited, nearly fainting as I
hoped and prayed nothing had happened to the bitch while running from Earl. Earl… he was the one
person that scared me more than Dr. Satan. The man had been entirely transformed into some sort of
horrifying monstrosity.
At that moment, Otis had come back; Spaulding on his heels with a very dead Dennis in his burly arms. The
remains of the dress Baby had forced onto her at some point was coated in blood and dirt, her body
hanging limply in the clown's arms. “Take that in to Mama. She'll wanna see ya afore ya take off,” the
wraith hissed, gesturing to the dining room before stomping into the living room. Looking up at him from
my position on the couch, I felt my heart dip when I was unable to read his expression. Glowering like he
normally did, the murderer held out a hand for me; giving me a silent order. Placing my hand in his, I
allowed him to help me to my feet; the five month belly I sported making getting up a touch more
difficult than it normally was.
He had then led me upstairs, pressing me against the door of our room as soon as we were inside; taking
my lips in a vicious kiss. After some extremely rough, desperate sex against the wall by the door; he had
given me a rather strange look. Then he had dragged me into bed soon after, things going strangely quiet
not long after. At first I had only been apprehensive about what it could mean. Now, an entire month and
a half later, I was having full on nightmares. The worst part was, my hands were tied until those two
cops showed up. I had to ensure the events followed the time-line as closely as possible before I forced
the diversion. While I was unsure what effect my actions would have, it was some compensation I
wouldn't be fucking up my own world.
Today I had gone down to help Mama make lunch, unable to stop myself from looking out the window
every few seconds. Needless to say, I about flew up to the ceiling when the older woman in the room with
me so much as touched my shoulder. Turning my head to give her a nervous smile, I saw a worried
mother looking back at me. “We expectin' someone darlin'?” she whispered, trust shining in her blue eyes
as they met mine. As much as it hurt me, I would have to lie. I had a responsibility to more than just this
family. So, I shook my head, ignoring the hissing from my conscience.
“Even if we were, I couldn't tell you. I don't know how much Otis told you on Halloween but my
circumstances make it difficult to reveal certain things. I have to do a juggling act between doing what's
best for you guys and what's ultimately best for your reality,” I explained before grabbing some freshly
washed potatoes to peel. That part, at least was the truth and she seemed to accept it.
After we had finished setting everything up to cook, a knock came from the front door and I felt dread
wash over me. Noticing the look on my face, Mama became apprehensive before moving into the hall that
lead to the front door. I took that opportunity to make myself scarce. Setting the stove so it wouldn't
burn the food, I made my way to the basement to hide with Tiny. Right now, it was best that Mama
seemed as alone and helpless as possible. As I entered the dungeon-esque area below the house, I heard a
familiar voice call me all manner of foul names aimed toward women. Blinking, I looked up to see Hugo
chained to the wall in the almost empty cage. Only a few women were left now, all of them holding the
same, zombie-like glaze to their eyes. It wouldn't be long before they perished as well.
Then there was Hugo, filth spewing out of his mouth while my feet carried me forward subconsciously. I
would have reached the chicken wire itself if it hadn't been for a hand landing on my shoulder to stop my
motion. Turning my head, I saw Tiny looking at me with concern on his masked face. Gently leading me to
a chair, the man-child jumped slightly when there was a bit of a commotion from above us; letting me
know Mama had gone running up to fetch Otis. It would only be a matter of time before both men were
dead. Once it was all over, it would finally be the moment to tell the family just what was going to
happen. A conversation I honestly wasn't looking forward to having. There was no telling just how well
they would take to being told they would have to move.
Then came an angry string of swearing muffled by the wood over my head and accentuated by stomping
boots as the person headed to the backdoor. This signaled the murderer was heading out to shoot the
young deputy while Mama took care of George Wydell. Bracing, I reached across the table to
preemptively comfort Tiny. Within seconds, a gun shot came from above; startling the poor giant and
silencing 'grandpa.' Soon after came another from outside and I heard Mama calling for me. Calling up to
her to tell her where I was, I decided to stay with a shaking Tiny until he had calmed. The poor man was
obviously disturbed by the loud sound and was shaking like a leaf. Getting up to wrap my arms around the
second oldest Firefly, murmuring in his ear as I pet him like a child.
I never heard him come down. I was just pulling away from the calming, impaired male when I felt a
rough hand wrap around my wrist. Feeling my heart practically stop, I whirled around to face a furious
wraith. Steely, hate filled, sky blue eyes moved to the hulking form that was slowly getting to his feet
behind me. I heard a series of grunts from there as well, prompting me to turn to see Tiny gesturing at
his adopted brother wildly. “Alright, alright, dun git yer panties in a wad. Fuckin' Hell…,” Otis hissed,
the smallest, soft smile twitching the right corner of his lips. Then he was releasing me to gesture for me
to precede him up the stairs.
Stopping to give the hulking, deformed man a hug, I scampered up the steps to be met with a very
flustered looking Mama. Blood and bits of brain matter splattered her shocked face and some had even
gotten into her flaxen curls. R.J. was dragging the body of George, the left side of the officer's face
almost entirely gone. Just seeing what was left of him made a cold shock of terror rush through me,
causing the developing babe inside me to roll in protest. This man would be the cause of so much grief and
I shuddered as I turned to face Otis. “They took far too long to come here. Why didn't they come with
Don? Why did it take them a month and a half to follow up on their disappearance?” I whispered, allowing
just how afraid I was slip forward for a brief second.
The murderer who killed sixteen year olds for fun, a beast who seemed to revel in pain and despair,
twitched just slightly as he caught the slight tremor to my voice. Then he was back to sneering and
glowering, his hands curling into tight fists by his sides. “Police politics. Even with him bein' a former cop,
they have t'jump through hoops t'git permission t'investigate anythin'. When he din call 'em back fer back-
up, they probably figured they got home until someone else reported th'bitch missin',” he replied, looking
like he wanted to be anywhere but here. A fact that honestly didn't surprise me. The ghoul seemed to
hate most human interaction, staying up in his room for the majority of the time. This was the most I had
seen him willing interact with the family since that hellish night.
“How long do you think it'll take for them to notice these guys are gone?” I asked, not liking the tense
silence that filled the kitchen as the family members in the room shifted uncomfortable. R.J., who had
just came back in from hanging up George to drain, could only stand in the entry of the side door as he
watched with confusion clear on his rugged face.
“They ain't gonna find us due to…,” he began, before trailing off as what color was in his pasty face
drained; leaving him looking rather gray.
“Dr. Satan. Whatever th'fuck he did down there protected us from discovery. That cave-in in the mines…
Oh fuck… If that shithead died we're in some trouble,” the killer whispered, taking charge as he grabbed
his older 'brother' and dragged him out into the side yard.
I could only stand there, my mind stuck in neutral as I struggled with whether or not I should tell them
about John Quincy Wydell, George's younger brother. If it had taken them a month and a half for them to
okay two men to come out in the first place, how much time would it take officers to gather evidence
about all the murders to bring down the hammer. There was no telling what the crazed doctor's death
was going to do to this family or their safety. All the evidence that had been hidden by the rituals could
very well come to the surface all at once. It all depended on what sort of deal these people had made
with the proverbial devil. From what I could guess, it was more than likely some protection deal.
The day seemed to crawl, each hour the two were gone feeling like an eternity. Every so often, a loud
string of cusses from Hugo would drift up from the basement to the kitchen but we ignored it as we
waited. Yet they didn't come. As it grew closer to sunset, both Mama and I began to pace as a strange
tension filled the house. If something had happened to either man down in the mines, we would more than
likely be fucked come time of escape. They were our muscle, let alone the fact that Otis was the only way
I stood any chance of coming along. The closer I got to giving birth, the more dangerous it would be to
keep me around. A fact that wouldn't be lost on Spaulding when the time came.
His deep dislike and distrust for me wasn't lost on me and I found myself placing my hand on the growing
dome of my womb. I was closing in on seven months along and I would have to come to a decision of my
own. While I hated the fact the clown would force me to stay behind if he had his way, I could see his
logic. A pregnant female wasn't all that discrete, let alone when it came time to give birth. Labor alone
could take hours and the whole thing was a noisy, dangerous process. If I really wanted these people to
get away, it may be best for me to find a way to separate myself from them. The only problem was, how
was I going to do that?
It was also no secret to me just how close Otis kept me to him at all times. It would probably be nearly
impossible to get away without him following me. He knew the area around the house far too well, he
would find me within moments and would more than likely make sure I couldn't run away. Just how he
would accomplish that made a chill run through me as I wandered to the living room. If I really wanted
to run away, I would have to wait until we were on the road; the thought of doing so making my heart
ache. Somewhere during this, I had fallen hard for the horrible monster and the thought of leaving him
made me feel incredibly alone. Not only that but without him, the likelihood of me getting through labor
alive was incredibly slim.
Sitting down on the couch and closing my eyes, I felt tears clog my throat as thoughts swirled in my
head. I wanted my baby and I to live, I wanted Otis there for the birth, I didn't want to hurt them by
running out like this. Just thinking about their reactions made my heart feel like a heavy stone in my
chest and I began to sob silently as I stared at the ceiling. Would he hate me for doing what I had to or
would he understand? There was always the possibility that he would simply drop me off in a town when
I got close to birth and abandon me there. Yet, something in me had a feeling that wouldn't be the case.
That part of me had a suspicion that the ghoul would tear himself apart to find me before I gave birth
and wouldn't stop hunting even after. The way he held me at night, the things he had said to me, all the
freedoms he had allowed me, all of it was adding up to something I didn't dare think about.
Closing my eyes, I shoved those thoughts away. I had come here to save them, not put them in more
danger by traveling with them while heavily pregnant. It would do me no good to dwell on things I
couldn't change. Still, the tears kept coming; the sorrow filling me like an intense storm encompassing
every inch of my body. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't notice I had company until rough
fingertips swiped at my damp, left cheek. Jolting back as fear dumped into my system, my hazel eyes flew
open to see a certain wraith hovering above me; his frown eased just slightly as he examined the moisture
on his fingers. Fighting the urge to apologize as I knew it would only piss him off, I did my best to stop
the flow; having about as much success as a child trying to stop a raging flood with a single cork. Wiping
uselessly at the stubborn tears, I simply made a motion that I was fine. “J-just hormones and all the
stress. I can't seem to stop,” I explained breathlessly, hoping he wouldn't lose his temper. If he started
screaming at me, I would crumble like a cracker in water and only make the situation that much worse.
Silence; endless, empty quiet that seemed to stretch into eternity. It pressed on my ears, not even the
sound of my own heart audible. Fear gripped me, rippling under my skin in a palpable manner as the near
albino pursed his lips and leaned down so he was looking me directly in the eyes. A low huff left him as
he gave me a look a scolding parent would give a child. After a few seconds, confusion gradually began to
replace the terror. For a few moments, I was utterly at a loss for why he was looking at me like this
until realization smacked me like a brick upside the head. He knew I had lied about the reason for my
tears slightly. He was giving me the opportunity to come clean, to tell him the truth. “I'm … I'm
afraid… So many events have been different and not just small events either. I can't guarantee what I
know is going to happen will occur when I say it will. Those cops… the entire situation makes me
uneasy,” I confessed, leaving out my other thoughts.
“Ya keep harpin' on about them pigs… Does somethin' happen cause of what happened t'day?” he rasped,
the steely blue of his eyes burning into me like acid.
“The younger brother of the one Mama kills will come to gun down the entire clan. Only you, Baby and
Spaulding escape. I want to make sure everyone lives. We have to be gone long before he shows up,” I
replied, a tight, shaky feeling centered in my breast. I could only wait for the aura of betrayal, the
yelling and condemnation before I was shoved in the cage with Hugo. Just thinking about what he would
do to me made my skin crawl with revulsion.
Instead, the killer straightened; a thoughtful expression on his ghostly white face as he began to pace.
“Christ, and th'doc's dead… Fuck, we don't stand a chance in Hell of this not comin' crashin' down on our
heads. I gotta call Otto,” he bit out, sounding annoyed as he stomped into the hallway, leaving me huddled
into the couch as a strange mixture of relief and utter confusion washed over me. Then what he said
fully registered and I found myself accidentally asking the question out loud.
“Who the fuck is Otto,” my voice whispered as if it belonged to someone else, the sound of it making me
freeze like some frightened rabbit dreading the wolf.
“He's Otis' only blood relative, lives in another part of Texas and likes t'hang out with th'Sawyer family.
He almost seems t'have become part of their clan, jest as well too. His attitude would gel better with
them more'n us,” came the soft reply from the doorway, making me look up at Baby. To my astonishment,
the younger woman looked both bitter and accepting at the same time.
Thinking about my one and only encounter with a member from that particular family, I shuddered as it
painted a very vivid picture of the man Otis was calling. Choptop was loud, brash, full of pop culture
references as well as jokes and utterly insane. Drayton, the man who acted as head and almost father to
his brothers, was just as loud and brash; no subtlety to the clan at all. It was only because they lived out
in the middle of ass nowhere that they hadn't been caught. The death of the cattle industry in that
region also helped, driving most tourism to 'greener pastures'. Only a very small amount ended up
traveling that way and most were sent on by a gas station attendant that worked for the family, a lot
like what occurred with the Fireflys. Just thinking about them made me shudder in anticipation of
meeting this newcomer.
A loud, angry curse from the hall made us both jolt before we heard a furious mid-tone grit out, “Don't
you fucking dare bring that whore's son here. If ya do I'll fucking shoot ya both where ya stand.”
“Please, for the love of all that is holy, don't let him be talking about Choptop,” I whispered under my
breath, ignoring the strange look I got from the younger murderess. If that crazy asshole showed up and
saw my state of heavy pregnancy, there was no telling what he would do.
“How th'fuck would ya know his name? Christ, what kinda world did ya come from,” whispered a female
voice by my ear and effectively bringing my attention back to her.
The blonde was inches from my face, her azure eyes glittering with a sort of confusion. It almost looked
like she was trying to figure out an answer to a question she couldn't begin to comprehend. “I know what
Otis told us but that only raised more questions. I jest… I want an explanation,” she whispered, looking
more concerned than I had seen in a while. In all honesty, my heart ached for the woman. She had
probably never thought of anything outside of her family and her home. The fact that someone like me
had come around had to be extremely disconcerting.
“She dun owe ya a damn thing. Jest be happy with what I told ya and let it drop,” came a hiss from behind
her, drawing both our attention to Otis.
To say he looked livid wouldn't be doing the emotion on his face justice. He looked like the very
embodiment of rage. Color flushed his white cheeks and forehead, a vein pulsed in his neck and a muscle
twitched visibly in his left cheek. He looked like he very much wanted to kill someone in an extremely
slow, painful manner. “As fer yew, I want ya t'go on down with Tiny agin. We got some unfinished
business,” he ordered, turning on his heel and heading for kitchen. I had no doubt in my mind he was
heading out to help R.J. with the dead cops. Wondering what he planned to do about the coming cops and
why he needed Otto but knowing better than to ask, I did what he instructed and made my way through
the dining room, kitchen and into the basement.
This being the second time I had been there today, I wasn't too surprised when Tiny looked up from a
project on his table and tilted his lumpy head in confusion. Hugo, of course, began to spit obscenities once
he saw me; the meager shades of women free in the cage with him huddling into a back corner. “Th'fuck is
goin' on up there? Are ya finally gonna git yers? Nah, if'n thet was th'case he woulda thrown ya in t'let
me have ya,” he hissed, his eyes spewing malice as he struggled against the chains. Ignoring him, I moved
to see what the gentle giant had been working on. It looked like a deformed horse made out of a
homemade, pink colored play-dough.
“Or maybe he's wantin' t'lure ya into a false sense of security. Catch ya when yer off guard so ya dun put
up a fuss,” continued his gravelly voice, his words sending a slight chill down my spine.
It wouldn't be the first time I had thought something like that and hearing him say it implied Otis had
done something like it before. Still, if that happened there wasn't much I could do about it. I certainly
wasn't going to fight the fate he chose. At least I had managed to live long enough to give them the
knowledge they would need to survive and get away. “Do you think I really care what happens to me you
old fool? If I did, I sure as Hell wouldn't be here. But I believe we've had this conversation before, when
you tried to cut my baby out of my stomach,” I hissed, blinking when Tiny shot to he feet; the chair he
was sitting on falling backward with a loud clatter.
The normally placid mongoloid seemed enraged, his large, semi-melted hands curling into fists before he
was firmly pushing me into another chair that was at his table. Then he began to stalk toward the
chicken wire cube. I had never seen Tiny act like this and decided it would be in my best interest to stay
put. Just as he reached the door, Otis came stomping down the stairs. As he came down, his line of sight
was directed to his 'brother' and he stopped a few steps short of reaching the landing. The burned,
oversized male simply stayed where he was, making a violent gesture toward the hanging geriatric.
Sighing, the killer pinched the bridge of his nose as he seemed to take a moment. “Jest what th'fuck did ya
do now Hugo?” he hissed, sounding more annoyed than truly angry. It was almost as if he had less respect
for the man than he did a speck of dirt, a fact I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to find was true.
“I told th'boi what I tried t'do to th'lil whore behind ya. Seein' how taken in this whole family is by her
whole innocent act honestly makes me sick. She ain't nothing but one of them! Are ya so blinded by th'fact
she carries yer bastard t'see she's got ya by th'ballsack,” snarled the restrained elder, his eyes spewing
fury as they shifted to me.
In a few fast movements, Otis was in the cage; a hand wrapped around the former patriarch's neck. “She's
done more t'prove her right t'be here more in the months she's lived than you ever have in the past
twenty years! But ya would have no idea 'bout any of that since ya decided t'go behind ma back to try
t'kill her and my unborn child,” came the vicious but strangely quiet response as the old man gargled.
Then he was motioning for me, Tiny staying near the door in case he needed help. I could only comply,
apprehension filling me as I opened the cage and the door shut behind me.
“How would ya feel 'bout doin' yer own solo project?” came the not quite question as hateful, blue eyes
turned slightly to look at me as the man he was strangling began to turn slightly blue.
Looking up at the grizzled mug of the foul man, I felt a mixture of pity and disgust. His wrinkled skin
sagged from rapid weight loss and stubble had long since turned into a pitiful excuse for a beard. Spittle
dotted the corners of his downturned mouth and his feet drummed uselessly against the stone wall as his
eyes rolled up. Then Otis was loosening his grip just enough to allow him one gasp of air before cutting
him off again, an ugly smile on his pale face. I no longer saw the man who had tried to cut my fetus out of
me while I watched. I saw a pathetic grandfather who couldn't do any further harm. Still, I knew better
than to refuse. So I simply chose to nod, the grin the killer gave me chilling my blood in my veins.

Revenge Before Company

WARNING!!: Graphic Torture of a Geriatric! Conscious Castration! Forcing Someone to Eat Own Genitalia!
Extreme Gore and Graphic Imagery! More Extreme Parts Marked With **

Author's Note: Karmic retribution, Otis style. Or, what happens if you happen to fuck with something he
considers his. This chapter is not for the faint of heart. (Not that any of this is, really…)

Chapter Nineteen: Revenge Before Company

I had no idea what hour it was by the time Otis got everything set up. All I knew is it was half past way
too late for a six and a half month pregnant woman to be awake. Fighting against the very dangerous
urge to yawn; I sat where he had left me at the dining room table, grateful for the company of Mama and
Baby. I had been sent up soon after Otis had asked his strange question and what had followed could only
be described as awful. I heard Hugo beg and plead with the wraith as he was dragged upstairs, very happy
for the fact I couldn't see him from the position the killer had insisted I be in. The worst part had been
when he begged Mama and Baby to save him from the madman, pointing out the fact that he was blood
while we weren't.
For just a few moments, I had been petrified that they would see his point. That the two women would
join with the old man in some misguided rebellion. He was technically right, neither of them were blood
like he was. There was no reason for any of them to be loyal to either of us. I was pleasantly surprised
when I heard someone spit at him as well as a loud slap. “They may not be blood but they're fam'ly. While
I ain't a fan of us killin' eachother, we cain't have ya tryin' t'hurt Raven or thet child of hers,” came the
deeply accented voice of Mama, a bit of her Texas twang clinging to her tone.
This had been followed by sputtering from the old man as well as derisive laughter from Otis. “Y'see y'old
bitch hog? They value me more'n they ever did you. Do ya wanna know why?” came the venomous hiss of
my deadly lover.
“Cause they know I'll protect them when it comes down to it. I don't think they c'n say th'same fer you,”
he continued before I heard boots stomping to the door that led to the side yard.
Hours had passed since then and I had long given up feeling apprehensive about what was to come. I was
far too exhausted for that. Instead, I found myself fighting to stay awake while the two Firefly women
talked animatedly. I had to wonder what time it was but I didn't dare ask. Besides, I had doubts they
knew any better than I did. Since I had come here, I hadn't seen a clock or even a watch around someone's
wrist. It was only when Otis came banging in through the door that I snapped out of the semi stupor I
had fallen into, the forming child inside me rolling slightly in protest.
Even the chattering around me had gone silent as I looked up at the beast who had made his way to the
table I was seated at. Before he could order anything, I was gingerly getting to my feet; my pronounced
stomach making it difficult to maneuver. Then I was giving him my hand, grimacing slightly at how cold
his skin was. It must be close to freezing out there, making a small ripple of disquiet go through me. I
remembered hearing somewhere that it was bad for pregnant women to experience extremes in
temperature. Still, I knew better than to say anything and simply allowed him to yank me into the
kitchen; a bit shocked when he released me long enough to shove a winter coat into my arms.
As I put on the thick jacket, I noticed disquieting eagerness in the killer's sky blues eyes and I felt my
skin crawl just thinking about what he had in mind. For someone like him to look excited about anything,
well it couldn't bode well. Shuddering slightly, I zipped the coat before opening the door I knew we would
be using; preceding him into the yard. I only got a few steps before I noticed he wasn't following and
turned to see if I had done something wrong. All I saw was Otis, his head cocked to the side like a curious
dog; his pale brow crinkled as he pursed his lips. It looked like he was trying to figure something out and
I felt the slightest bit of confusion. While I wasn't eager for what was going to happen, there was no
point in trying to fight it. Then it dawned upon me that I was taking an initiative, I was showing I was
doing this of my own will by going first and the implication certainly hadn't been lost on the pale beast.
Then he was moving, a strange expression on his grizzled face as he casually gestured for me to continue
onward. Taking a deep breath, I gave a nod as I turned to do so; my heart thudding in my ears as it felt I
was making an irreversible decision. Something that would change my life forever. Something that would
change how Otis saw me as well as how I saw myself. I was heading toward the large barn that served as
a garage under my own power, the man behind me not having to drag me along at all. While it may not
seem significant to many, it certainly was to us; giving the air a heavy feeling as we closed the distance.
Everything from here would be under my control alone. I would be the one to decide what to do to Hugo
and how to do it. I would be the one to decide how much pain to level on the elderly male.
Suppressing a shudder, I swung open the rotting, wooden door that lead into the dilapidated building. The
air inside was musty with the smell of ancient hay and old horse, grease barely covering the faint scent
of dung and urine. In the stalls were hulks of broken cars and trucks, no doubt stolen from the family's
many victims. Hay still littered the floor and I found my eyes traveling to the far back of the barn,
dread settling deep into my bones when I saw 'Grandpa' chained up to the wall. The old pervert looked
like he had been worked over pretty good, bruises as well as bleeding cuts covering his wrinkled visage.
Groaning, the barely conscious man lolled his head so his white hair hung in his face; not even aware of
the fact that we were there.
Even with all of the shit he pulled on me, I couldn't help but feel the smallest bit of sympathy for the
man. After all, I had effectively yanked the rug out from under him. In all his years with the family, he
would have never expected someone like me to come along and fuck things up for him. He certainly
couldn't have predicted Otis' reaction to me, not even I could have predicted that. Using me for sex,
making me participate in kills sure but to actually kill family for me; it implied something that scared
the shit out of me. If I was anywhere near the mark with my assumption, I was in deeper trouble than I
could imagine. I couldn't even bring myself to think the words in association with the unpredictable man,
shoving away the suspicion that tickled in the back of my brain. Not only was it not worth it to think
about but it was downright hazardous to my health.
Instead, I moved toward my would be victim; feeling faintly nauseous as I took in just what my twisted
lover had set up for me. There were several surgical tables set up with various means of torture, some of
them making me wince just looking at them. All of them were in varying states of rusting but extremely
sharp, making everything inside me rebel at the though of using them. Still, I knew I had no choice and it
would be extremely foolish of me to let Otis down. So I cleared my mind and forced myself to look at this
like one of my art projects. After a few moments, something clicked and I felt my hand reaching to a
rather dull looking knife. It was sharp enough for my purposes but not so sharp that it would end too fast.
Fading somewhere to the back of my head, I watched my other hand reach forward to touch the
patriarch's flaccid, comically small dick. The foreskin was longer than the appendage itself, hanging down
to create an obscene mouth. His balls were no better, almost dangling to his knees and covered in
scraggly, white pubes. Just touching it made my skin crawl but I felt a strange grin twitch the corner of
my lips as I fondled the saggy manhood. Dimly aware of eyes watching me, I ran the flat of the blade I
had picked along his soft shaft; feeling a faint thrill pulse through my blood at what I was about to do.
Just as his eyes started to flutter, I gave his sensitive manhood a sharp rap with the flat of the blade to
bring him around. Some vindictive part of me wanted him to be awake, to see what I was doing to him.
Some part of me was already relishing the expression he would have, feeling like he deserved it for what
he had tried to do to me and my unborn child. Buried deep inside my own head, I could only watch myself
with a vague sense of horror. I had only disconnected like this once before and I certainly hadn't liked
what that part of me had shown. As I felt the dark glee and alien bloodlust flow through me, I knew this
was going to be much worse. The buried beast all humans seem to have wanted its pound of flesh for what
this man had tried to do and would take great pleasure in exacting that right.
As Hugo's faded eyes opened to meet mine, I felt a cruel smile twist my lips as anticipation sang in my
veins. Then I was flipping the knife so the sharp side was against his flesh, feeling a terrible happiness
when comprehension crossed his wrinkled face. Instead of begging or pleading, the elderly patriarch
sneered at me; his white hair hanging in his grizzled, saggy visage. “Ya ain't got the cojones t'do it girly.
It's a wonder lover boy there put up wi' ya as long as he did,” hissed the geriatric, his taunting words
only serving to fuel the flames simmering inside me. Feeling an evil smile on my face, I watched as my
hand cut the top of his limp member shallowly; just enough to draw blood but not enough to cause any
real pain. The look of surprised horror that crossed his face was almost enough to make me agree with
the darker entity that was currently in charge of my body, almost.
“You'd be surprised what I can do when given the 'proper motivation',” whispered the horrible thing using
my body and voice, a side of myself I wish I had never discovered. Then I could feel myself bearing down
slightly on the blade, blood welling up around the weapon as an agonized hiss rattled up from his chest.
**Feeling a detached glee, I began to saw slowly; the feeling of his blood pouring onto my hand only
adding to the deranged joy I felt. As separated as I had made myself from what was going on, I could
still feel the emotions as if they were my own. Looking down, I watched the knife slide past the first
layer of flesh and fat. It was only then that the old pervert began to scream, making me feel a grudging
respect for the foul man. “It'll be over before you know it,” came out of me in a sickeningly sweet coo, a
witch's cackle soon following as I lifted the hand holding his member to lick some of the blood off the
skin.
Increasing the pressure on the handle, I sawed slowly downward; drinking in his screams of pain while
being horrified by them at the same time. It felt strange to be so divided with myself, watching my
actions like some horror movie from a recess in the back of my conscious mind. Pulling away his penis as I
sliced, I observed the layers of skin, fat and muscle that made up the organ. The more ghoulish part of me
that was in charge found it beautiful while I could only feel a deep disgust that I could think like that in
the first place. When the screams started to fade, I would give a harsh yank to wake him up again; the
monster moving my body wanting him to see all of it happen.
The coppery smell of blood filled my mouth and nose as I pulled the flopping dick off his body with a final
squelching sound. From the hidey hole in the back of my mind I watched as my hands raised the
appendage like some horrifying trophy, the twisted part of me in charge admiring the blood coated
muscle work. There was only a bloody hole where it had been on his body, Hugo screaming like a stuck pig
as his face began to turn an interesting puce color. Aware of a strange noise bubbling out of my chest, I
watched as my body reached up to force his dangling testicles against his lips. “Give em a kiss beautiful,”
whispered a voice that sounded and felt like mine but sounded more like Otis in content.
Movement to my right drew me slightly out of my shell, just enough to drive it home that it was really
me that was doing these actions and not some demon that had taken possession of my body. Turning my
head as I became all too aware of the substance coating my left hand, I saw my psychopathic lover
watching my every move; an expression akin to pride on his bone white visage. Licking my lips and
shuddering at what I knew was originally going to happen, I could only continue without the safety
buffer of my safe spot in my mind. Returning my focus to a still screaming Hugo, I grimaced slightly
before chopping off the tip of the body part and stuffing it into his mouth. Then I placed my hand over
the orifice to make sure he couldn't spit it out, waiting until I saw him swallow to remove the appendage.
This continued until I had fed him his own penis piece by bloody piece, unable to retreat back into my own
head due to the fact I was aware of Otis watching me. I heard every gag the old man let out, every
worthless plea for the beast next to me to not let me do this. The dark part of me rose up just enough to
force a cruel laugh out of me as I pushed the last piece of his wrinkled, hairy scrotum into the old man's
mouth. When I saw his throat working and heard him begin to make an ugly 'gurking' sound, I shot my
arm forward with ungodly speed to rest my sharp knife against his saggy throat. “You even think about
puking, I will cut your throat before you can blink,” hissed a voice that I knew was mine but felt alien
coming from my throat.**
The look of sheer hate 'grandpa' gave me would have made a normal person shake in their boots. Instead a
crazy person's laugh bubbled out of me as I patted his sunken in, gray cheek with the flat of my weapon.
Then I was turning my back and leaving at a leisurely pace, having had more than enough bloodshed for
one day. “Aren't ya even gonna finish th'job ya cowardly bitch!” screamed a much higher pitched voice
from behind me, making me come close to laughing despite the deep amount of violation I felt.
“You're not worth my time,” came out of me mechanically as I kept walking, not even looking at him as I
made my way out the huge, open entry. I only stopped when I was out in the yard itself, beginning to
shake as the enormity of what I had done began to hit me.
It had really been my hands, my voice, my emotions. The implications rocked me to my very core and I
found myself looking at my blood coated left hand as disgust and horror swirled around inside me. Behind
me, I could hear the faint screams of my victim cursing my name and demanding I finish him off. Yet my
eyes never moved from the crimson fluid seeping into the lines of my palm, not even when I felt hands on
my shoulders and hard nips along the base of my neck. Just what was I becoming? Would I eventually
lose the part of me that felt guilt and sympathy altogether? Would that darker part that dwelled inside
me gradually become what I was? Just thinking about it nearly caused a full body shudder.
As if sensing the change, the beast behind me made a disappointed noise before pulling away from me. I
didn't even have to look at him to know the expression he had on his face. He no doubt looked disappointed
as well as more enraged than usual, probably much preferring the more merciless part of me to my
normal self. With the way things were looking, he would get what he wanted sooner or later. “Git inside.
Ya look dead on yer feet,” came a gruff order from my lover before the sound of footsteps moved back
toward the barn. Not wanting to hear what he would do to the old man, I scampered inside as fast as my
feet could carry me; not stopping until I had locked myself in the room I shared with the murderer.
As soon as I was alone, the proverbial other shoe dropped and I felt myself disconnect from reality; a
strange, floating sensation almost akin to an out of body experience. Most Psychologists refer to
phenomenon as Dissociation and it feels extremely surreal. Once again, it felt like I was looking at some
alien being controlling my limbs; the darkness inside me surging to take over where I had left off. If I
had wanted, it would have been easy to let myself fade; to let this budding insanity have me. The only
thing that kept me from doing so was the feeling of my unborn child kicking for a brief moment. Just that
briefest of sensations was enough to slam me back into my body as my arms wrapped around my large
dome of a stomach, tears streaming silently down my pale face.
Despite not really wanting to face my current reality, I couldn't allow this innocent to become a
casualty. Heaven only knew what the witch hiding inside me would do to the child once it was born or
even before. While this horrible blackness was part of me, I had no real idea just what it was capable of
without me there to balance the roaring insanity. Whispering apologies to my growing baby, I forced
myself to swallow my fear and disgust; flinching when I heard a scream rip the quiet of the night apart.
Not wanting to think about what had just happened, I forced myself to unlock the door before laying in
the sunken, filthy mattress I shared with Otis and trying to get some sleep. With any hope, my brain
would bury all the revelations I had about myself tonight very deeply.
Unfortunately, it seemed sleep and I were destined to only have the most fleeting of affairs that late
night. It had been so peaceful and warm, I had only been out for what felt like a handful of hours when I
heard a verbal explosion come from downstairs. Sitting up before I had even woken up fully, I blinked
blindly for a few moments as I waited for my vision to clear. Due to only just waking up, the yelling from
the ground floor sounded like cacophony of unintelligible noise. Eventually, I was able to make out at
least three male voices; one sounding almost amused while the other two were screaming at eachother.
After a few more minutes, I was even able to discern at least two of the three voices and it was mostly
due to their eerie similarities.
The deeper, more harsh voice was Otis' while the lighter, more accented voice belonged to 'Choptop'. As
soon as that clicked, all my sleepiness fled as the cold chill of terror began to trickle over my body. Otto
must have made a surprise appearance while the family was asleep. On top of that, it sounded like he had
decided to defy his cousin and bring a certain member of the Drayton family. Just thinking about the
damage the psychopath could do almost tempted me to lock the door again, almost. As you may have
found out by now, Mr. Driftwood isn't the most patient or understanding person. If I locked him out of his
own room, I had a feeling it would be like starting the apocalypse singlehandedly. Still, that didn't make
me feel any more confident about my safety at the moment.
If Choptop were to distract my violent lover, it would be far too easy for Otto to sneak up here and
stumble across me. With how little the family corresponded with people outside their immediate circle, I
somehow doubted Otis had told his cousin about me. If that was the case, there was every chance I would
be called downstairs so the wraith could demonstrate who I belonged to. While that probably sounds
barbaric to most, its just the way a world like his worked. When you lived around murderers, you had to
stand your own ground to ensure those you cared for wouldn't get hurt or worse. You had to make damn
sure no one would mess with you. The stakes were, of course, raised whenever you brought someone in.
Trust between you and your group has to be extremely strong to do so and you had to make sure you
wouldn't have to see to their safety 24/7.
Even with that in mind, I was in no rush to go down until I had been summoned. I had no real idea if Otis
would even want me near the pair at the moment. From the sounds of it, a pecking order of sorts was still
being established on top of the ghoul being absolutely furious with his relative. Otto had seriously
breached etiquette by bringing Choppy with him against direct orders. It had been a test of boundaries
and I found myself bearing verbal witness to a territorial dispute because of it. All I could do was wait
until the whole thing blew over or I was called down. Swinging my legs over the side of the decaying bed,
I shut my eyes and tried to listen to what was happening so I would be better armed when I eventually
came across the mysterious cousin. “Ya need t'git this fuckin' whore son to leave ma property or I won't
be responsible fer my actions,” drifted up the furious voice of my twisted artist.
“Aw, ya never were any fun Tissy. What harm could he possibly do? Ya know dern well he's submissive to
me,” cooed a much smoother sounding baritone, the Texas twang clinging to his voice more relaxed and
almost lazy.
“Th'fuck I am nancy boi! I came here t'see if Caspar here has killed his squeeze yet,” snarled a slightly
higher voice than Otis' but still sounding almost exactly like his and making me shudder all over.
“Th'fuck ya jest call me,” bristled the mid-tone of the wraith I lived with before the sound of scuffling
came from the main floor.
I could only wince when I heard something break, followed by shouts from Mama and Baby.
Unfortunately, the fighting continued; followed by the sound of furniture being slammed into. That was
when I became aware of the sound of soft footsteps coming down the hall. The person was trying to stay
silent but I was still able to pick up the subtle creaks their footfalls made on the hardwood floor. Heart
leaping into my throat, I sprinted toward the door in what felt like slow motion as the steps grew
steadily closer. They were still a ways down the hall when I turned the lock on the knob, stepping back as
I took deep breaths to slow my racing heart. Within moments, the doorknob jiggled gently before a
rhythmic knock sounded on the wood of the door. “Little pig, little pig, let me come in,” whispered the
soft, slightly raspy voice of Choptop.
Instant nausea washed over me and I found myself with my back pressed against a far wall without any
knowledge of how I had gotten there. My hands spread like stars on the dry wall behind me as my eyes
widened with unreasoning terror. I had a fleeting thought that if I kept quiet he would go away, despite
logically knowing better. So I wasn't too shocked when the sound of fingertips tapping on the closed
entry came next. “I know yer in there. Heh, I c'n smell ya. Smells like a tuna fish wrasslin' inna swamp,”
cooed the crazed voice before a gale of sickening laughter issued through the separating wood. Then the
sound of something scrapping down the door made me freeze as I felt my skin break out in goosebumps. He
was scratching the end of his hanger down the wood to frighten me and it was working.
Taking a deep breath, I fought with myself not to shake or scream for help. While I had no idea if what
he had said was true about smelling me, if I moved he would most certainly hear me. So I stayed right
where I was, barely daring to breathe lest he hear that too. A loud, sudden bang that shook the door in
its hinges very nearly drew a surprised scream from me; forcing me to bite my lower lip to keep the
involuntary noise inside. “I ain't goin' nowhere til I see you, ya lil slut. You've been hauntin' my dreams,
makin' me see flashes of things in ma head,” hissed the voice of a man who had lost his mind long before I
had ever come to this godforsaken realm. Still, something in his tone drew me to the entry
subconsciously and I found myself more than halfway there before I had even noticed I was moving.
It was then I heard a loud curse from below before there was a pounding sound signifying that someone
was making their way up the stairs at a rapid pace. Then there was the sound of a body colliding with the
one outside just before a slam shook the entire house. “What th'shit were ya doin' up here by ma bedroom!
Ya have no reason t'be here at all,” screamed the voice of Otis, sounding more upset than I had ever heard
him. Yet, under all the raw fury, I could swear I heard the faintest trace of fear.
“Alrigh' kiddies, ya'll play nice now,” drawled a third voice as almost lazy foot falls approached.
“Jest git yer damn dog outta here and go on back downstairs, I'll be there momentarily to kick the shit
outta ya both,” bit out the ghoul I 'belonged' to before the doorknob jiggled, hard.
In that moment, the bottom dropped out of my stomach as I rushed to unlock it. What only took a matter
of seconds seemed to take an eternity, the sound of the lock turning almost deafeningly loud to my ears.
In the second it was unlocked, Otis charged in to slam the thick piece of wood behind him before
practically wrapping himself around me. In fact, he seemed to be shaking ever so slightly as he took me
into one of his strange holds. Without a word of explanation, he took my lips in a vicious kiss that bruised
my lips before practically shoving me away from him. “Ya did gewd. I dun want ya around them unless
absolutely necessary. That pansy ass chrome-dome seems to have formed an unhealthy obsession with ya,”
snarled the almost apoplectic murderer before he stormed into the Prep Room, leaving me feeling
terrified as well as slightly confused.

Claustrophobia
Author's Note: The strange wait begins.

Chapter Twenty-One: Claustrophobia

It was only the next day that it dawned on me that the two cops on the radio hadn't even mentioned the
two missing officers. That meant that, at least so far as I knew, that the police office wasn't even aware
the pair had split off on their own. Once the two dead cops were found, however, the police would become
a lot like a hornet's nest. And with two new murderers added to the mix, it was only a matter of time
before some sick sculpture was made from the bodies of the former law enforcement officials. Then
Wydell and his cronies would be all over us like white on rice.
Groaning as I scrubbed my face with my palms, I made a move to sit up only to find I was pinned in place.
Blinking, I turned my head to see the sleeping face of Otis. Two of his thin arms were wrapped tightly
around me and his body was pressed as close to mine as he could get. I was essentially trapped and the
worst thing was, I really had to pee. Being six and a half months pregnant can do that to a woman.
Grimacing at what I had to do and hoping I wouldn't get killed for startling him, I placed a hand on his
right shoulder and shook gently.
The wraith was sitting up instantly, his hand automatically going for his knife while his eyes searched
the room for the threat. Deciding to stay still, I cleared my throat to get his attention. “Sorry, just me. I
had to pee,” I whispered, praying my voice alone wouldn't be enough to set him off in this state.
“Then jest go already! Fuckin' Christ! Th'Hell'd ya have t'wake me up fer?” he snarled, laying back down and
rolling over. Sighing, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and gingerly got to my feet; making my
way carefully to the door.
Thankfully, my eyes had long ago adjusted to the inky gloom and I was able to get to the entry without
bumping into anything. Opening the door, I peeked my head out into the dark hallway; looking either way
to see if it was empty. When I didn't see anyone, most importantly Choptop, I cautiously scampered
across the narrow corridor. Closing the bathroom door behind me, I could swear I heard a quiet creak.
Locking the entry just in case, I pulled down my pants and sat on the toilet; listening to the sound of
water hitting water as I stared into the darkness of the room.
When finished, I flushed and washed my hands before eyeing the locked door. That creak could mean
anything. It could be the man I was trying to avoid coming out of the room Hugo used to sleep in, it could
be the house settling or it could be something else entirely. Still, I couldn't afford to stay in here all
night and Otis would no doubt be pissed if he had to wake up again to get me. So, gathering what courage I
could, I turned the lock and opened the door. Poking my head out, I saw something that made my heart
drop into my stomach. There was a silhouette outside the room Otto and Choppy had been given after a
long argument between Mama and Otis.
Fighting against the urge to bolt back into the bathroom, I stepped out into the hall; flicking on the light
to see my adversary better. Thankfully, I had my eyes closed so I wasn't blinded but the cry of pain from
Choppy told me he hadn't had the same luck. “Gah! Ya fuckin' bitch! My fuckin' eyes!” he hissed, his voice
pitched low in an effort not to draw attention to himself.
“Allow me to play you the world's smallest violin. Why are you sneaking out of your room in the middle
of the night?” I responded, trying to sound as flippant and casual as possible while I slowly opened my
eyes so I could see. In truth, I was petrified and ready to run at the first sign of trouble. While it would
make me lose face, the life of the child I carried came first.
“I heard someone walkin' 'round and wanted ta check it out. It ain't like I'm lookin' ta kill ya,” snarled the
psychopath, one of his blue eyes opening while he rubbed the other. His upper lip was pulled into an angry
snarl and he looked like he wanted to do just what he was assuring me he wouldn't.
“Well, you see that its me. You can go back to bed,” I snipped, making a shooing motion with my hands that
only pissed him off further.
“I was hopin' it would be you,” hissed the crazed hippie, his hands closing into tight fists as he leveled me
with a deadly glower.
Just hearing his declaration made me feel a bit faint and I swayed heavily, biting the inside of my cheek
to keep myself conscious. The burst of pain as well as the faint taste of blood did the trick, bringing me
back into full awareness in time to see the killer had closed the distance at a disturbing speed. Furious
eyes that so resembled Otis' locked on my, just the faintest sparkle of concern in their azure depths. “I
dunno why but… I feel I need ta make sure yer okay, that yer safe. Its enough ta make me want to dent
my plate,” he spat, taking out his trusty coat hanger to scrape at said plate.
“I ain't never found a whore I cared ta see live. Now I'm dreaming of things, seeing things in mah head
and its all yer fault somehow. Fuck all if I can be mad about it though,” he continued, looking distraught,
confused and just plain pissed off.
Worst thing was, I couldn't think of a single response. Everything he was telling me was just as strange
to me. I had no explanation for any of it beyond the fact the same actor played them in my home
dimension. Or reality. Or whatever the fuck I had stumbled upon with my unthinking wish. “I wish I could
help, I do but I can't offer you anything. Like I said before, I know about as much about this as you,” I
sighed, the slight lie making me feel a bit uneasy. Sure enough, a frown clouded his ghoulish features and
danger began to pour off him in waves.
“Yer lyin'. You at least know something, even if it's not much,” Choptop growled, jumping away from me
when another creak came from the room he had come from. As both of us turned to look, Otto came to
stand in the doorway.
Giving me a polite nod, the brunette shot a glare to his partner. “Git back in thar afore Tissy sees ya out
here with her,” he whispered heatedly, pointing to the room he had come from like he was punishing a
dog. Narrowing his eyes, the metal headed menace took one last look at me before doing as he'd been
ordered; giving Otto a death glare on his way. Closing the door behind the strange man, the brunette
turned his gaze to me before closing the distance. Leaving a few feet between us, his dark blue eyes
looking me over for injuries.
“At least he ain't thet stupid. Ya'll be careful with that'n. He's crazier than a rabid possum in a burlap
sack. I'm surprised he hasn't killed ya yet jest t'stop th'dreams. If'n he comes at ya while yer alone like
thet, ya need t'git someone's attention,” he chided, sounding almost concerned as he shifted his gaze to the
closed door of his room.
“I know, I'll probably start taking my knife everywhere. But why do you care? Its not as if I'm part of the
Sawyers,” I asked, feeling just a bit more safe with him than I did Choppy. After all, he seemed a bit more
sane that the rest; no less dangerous just more predictable.
“No, but ya are a Driftwood now; whether or not he gave ya his name. Ya carry a member of my blood and
Tissy's child. Never thought I'd see th'day he'd have a kid, yanno? He always makes Baby abort hers,” he
sighed, placing a hand on my upper back to steer me to his cousin's room.
“Yeah, I know. Baby told me about that. As for being a 'Driftwood', I wouldn't go that far. He likes me
enough but I highly doubt he considers me a wife,” I pointed out stopping in front of the door to finish our
conversation.
“Really? Then jest why is he concerned enough 'bout ya t'stop fuckin' ya at this stage of pregnancy?” he
retorted, his words stopping me in my tracks.
That statement had me, the cogs in my head jamming as I gaped up at him. The sheer paradox came close
to causing steam to pour out of my ears. Otis was a cold-blooded killer, a person who felt nothing for
anyone who wasn't close to him. His family was the only thing he seemed to give any bit of a damn about.
Then it dawned on me, my eyes going wide as all the air left my lungs. According to everyone here, me
and the child I carried were part of the family. Could that mean some of what Otto told me could be true.
“I… I don't know,” I admitted quietly, looking at the closed door nervously.
While the conversation I was having seemed important, there was no way I could go much longer
without my violent lover realizing I wasn't in the bed with him. If I so much as rolled over, he would
wrap an arm around me to make sure he knew if I left. The fact I was gone this long when I just had to go
pee was highly unusual. “I seggest ya figure it out soon lil lady. We prolly dun have long afore we're up
ter our necks in th'law. When thet happens, there won't be time fer talks and yew two may be separated.
He may even be killed. Dun let there be any doubts 'r questions. All I know is I cain't give ya th'answer.
I've also never seen Tissy act tha' way with anyone,” the younger man murmured, opening the door to
usher me inside.
Unfortunately, I didn't have to far to go; slamming into something bony and more than likely very angry.
Before I could even think of how much trouble I was in, my shoulders were grabbed in a painful grip.
“What did he do to ya? Did he hurt ya? What 'bout that no 'count asshole Chrome-dome?” snarled a
furious but exceedingly worried mid-tone from somewhere in the gloom above me.
“Otis, I'm fine. Neither of them hurt me, especially Otto. Your cousin… I don't think he wants to hurt me.
Choptop, I'm not so sure about,” I replied, reaching out blindly with my hands until they landed on what
felt like his lower stomach.
As soon as my hands made contact, a sharp breath was sucked into his lungs as his grip on my shoulders
tightened and his muscle tensed under my fingers. Nibbling my lip while Otto's words whirled in my head,
I decided to play very dangerous game. Even with how much affection he seemed to have for me, this
could end horribly. While he wouldn't kill me, I couldn't say he wouldn't find creative ways to harm me.
Still, something told me I had to know the results of what I was about to do. Taking a deep breath and
praying whatever he did wouldn't be too bad, I slowly moved my fingers downward.
Traveling past his pubes as he began to pant slightly, the very tips touched surprisingly hard flesh. A
nearly inaudible hiss left the killer, his hands slowly dropping from my shoulders. Heart racing a mile a
minute, I blindly felt my way around his shaft until I could wrap my hand loosely around it. Another,
slightly louder hiss greeted this action; the wraith before me seeming to shudder under my hands.
Gathering the scant courage I had and vaguely wondering why he hadn't shoved me against a wall to
relieve himself, I ran my hand along the erection to his tip; rubbing the slit in a tantalizing manner.
“Fuck,” the ghoul groaned out, his voice strained.
Faster than I could react, he was grabbing both my wrists in one hand; growling low in his throat in
warning. “I dunno what th'fuck ya think yer doin' but ya best put a stop to it right now, ya hear? Git back
in bed and go t'sleep. I'll be back in a bit,” gritted his unsteady, gruff, angry sounding voice before he was
shoving me toward the bed and leaving. Watching his silhouette storm through the brief slit of light
caused by the opening of the entry, I knew exactly where he was going and found myself not feeling the
least bit shocked. The only other person he would go to with his problem was his 'sister', Baby.
He had a relationship with her long before I had shown up, it only made sense he would go to her with his
problem. Besides, like I had already told Baby, it would be stupid of me to get jealous. Otis was the type to
do what made him feel good, not taking other's feelings into account. Still, none of that helped the aching
knot my heart had decided to turn itself into. Rubbing my chest in the vain hopes of gaining some respite,
I made my way carefully to the bed, barking my shins against the edge of it despite my best efforts.
Feeling out the mattress with my hands in the inky blackness, I carefully laid down on what I thought
was my side of the bed.
It felt like I had only been asleep for a few minutes when the door slammed open and startled me awake.
Sitting up, I felt true fear as I realized I still couldn't see a damn thing. At best, I could make out the
vague shapes of the furniture in the room but no real way to be able to make out what was what, let
alone where this person was going. I couldn't even see if it was Otis or Choptop, the silhouette
frighteningly non-distinct. Then the door was closing as the newcomer entered, making my fear rise up to
all new levels.
Placing a hand on my stomach as my baby began to roll around inside me, I licked my dry lips as my ears
picked up the sounds of footsteps creaking on wood. My breathing only accelerated when I heard them
heading toward the bed. “O-otis?” I called out into the gloom, my voice sounding small and scared. Silence
followed, not helping my anxiety one bit.
“Th'Hell ya doin' still up?” hissed a familiar mid-tone, making me relax instantaneously.
“The door opening like that woke me up. Thank Christ it was you and not…,” I began, tapering off when I
realized just how dangerous what I was about to say was.
More silence followed, a soft irritated sigh coming from the shadows after what seemed like an eternity.
“Scoot on over,” grumbled the wraith before one side of the bed sunk down under his weight. Sighing, I
felt around for the other side of the bed; inching my way over until it seemed I was in the right spot. As
soon I was settled, Otis was coming in behind me; wrapping his arms around me so his hands rested on the
swell of my stomach. Blinking, I placed my hands over his and slowly closed my eyes; still a bit too jazzed
up to sleep right off the bat. From the sounds of it, the beast behind me was having the same problem.
“Whatever ya think happened, it didn't,” came a gruff whisper by my ear, startling me enough that my
eyes popped open and my hands twitched.
“Wh-what?” I squeaked, immediately regretting my unthinking outburst as my unpredictable lover let
out an irritated sigh.
“I didn't fuck Baby. Oh, I tried but… Thanks t'yew I cain't,” came a rather unexpected confession, the tone
amused as well as slightly angry.
“Wh-what?!” I repeated, something in my brain malfunctioning as I began to enter overload. What he was
saying, let alone the fact he was saying it to me, made no sense with what I knew about this man.
Despite how much more 'affectionate' he had become, he was still just as violent and ill-tempered. He
never made it a point to hold his tongue but at least it had been a long while since he had been truly
angry at me. “Ya heard me. I couldn't fuck Baby. A first fer th'both of us and not somethin' that was easy
t'explain t'her,” he sighed, resting his lips on the spot where my jaw connected to my neck.
“Wh-why on Earth is it my fault?” I whispered, sounding more confused than anything. A quiet grumble
came from the killer spooning me, his bony chest expanding as he took in a deep breath and let it out
slowly.
“Yer still dense fer bein' so bright. Dun ya git it? I cain't be unloyal t'ya anymore. I cain't find sexual
pleasure with another woman without feelin' guilt about it. A very strange situation fer me. Ain't never
felt guilty 'bout sleepin' 'round afore. Never… cared 'bout someone enough t'really care 'bout their
feelings,” he explained, his hands rubbing my tummy almost reverently. I could only lay there, my heart
beating in my ears as I tried to absorb what he was telling me.
Some of what Otto told me earlier came to mind and I felt my eyes widened as a strange thought began
to form. Could this wraith, this insane ghoul, really love me? Just pondering on it made me fear if I had
gone insane from all the stress I had been under. There was just no way he could feel anything close to
love but he obviously held me in some regard. Especially with what he was telling me. Another thing this
man didn't do was withhold any type of sexual pleasure from himself. All too often, he had taken me
when I hadn't entirely been in the mood. Yet, as time had gone on, that had tapered off. “O-otis…,” I
stammered, unsure of what to say.
“No more talk fer t'night. Git some sleep. We have to prepare the two 'pigs' fer display and we should have
someone listenin' to the scanner. We're gonna be gettin' up early so ya need yer rest,” came a snarled
order, his hand rubbing the dome of my occupied womb. Knowing nothing more would be said, I shut my
eyes and tried to sleep; eventually drifting off hours later.
After what only seemed like a short amount of time, I was being sat up by a pair of strong arms and
shaken hard. “C'mon ya bitch, wake up!” hollered a familiar mid-tone that drew me closer to consciousness.
“Okay, okay 'm up,” I grumbled, still more asleep than awake as I shooed the person away; stretching as my
brain tried to boot up. As soon as it did, however, my eyes shot open as horror filled my body in a tingling
wave.
Not only had I mouthed off but I had shooed an unpredictable murderer away from me, a man who had
viciously killed young girls for much less. “I'll be downstairs then. Ya better be there in a few minutes,”
hissed the wraith, leaving the room before I had even opened my eyes enough to look at him. Feeling a
little astounded, I gathered some clothes as well as my last bra. As much as I hated knowing Otis was just
going to destroy it later, I wasn't about to go around either Otto or Choppy with my tits flopping around
freely.
As I walked down the stairs, I heard people talking. Or, to be more precise, arguing. “No Otis, ya need
t'explain jest what th'fuck happened last night! I refuse t'believe ya suddenly grew a fuckin' conscience
over one woman,” screamed the voice of Baby, making me wince as I briefly wondered if I should go back
upstairs.
“Take it or leave it, its the truth. Naow drop it! She'll be down any second and I dun need ya upsettin'
her,” bit back my lover, sounding worried as well as exasperated.
“And what is it ya make of thet?” murmured a baritone in my ear, nearly causing me to shoot through the
ceiling. Spinning on my heel as I pulled out a butterfly knife Otis had given me, I came face to face with
none other than Otto.
To his credit, the lanky male backed off and held his hands up to show he meant no harm but kept a smirk
on his tanned face. “Woah, easy thar quick draw! I ain't gonna hurt ya. Told ya thet last night,” he purred,
his dark blue eyes sparkling with humor. Narrowing my eyes, I put a bit more distance between us. I held
no illusions about being able to handle this man if he decided to try anything. He was Otis' cousin after
all, on top of that the man lived with the Sawyers. A family that could compete with the Fireflies for
the sheer amount of crazy they were.
“I think I'll keep my distance just the same, thanks,” I spat, keeping my weapon out but held at my side.
“And anotha thang! Jest what th'Hell do ya mean by lettin' her keep th'damn brat she's carryin'? Ya make
me abort mine and I've been with ya longer! Jest why is she so goddamn important t'ya,” came another
accusation from the younger female followed by the sound of a hard slap.
“Its my business, got that? If I want t'keep this kid, then its my decision. I dun have t'explain t'anyone
why I do anythin'! Naow, fer th'last time, drop it!” screamed Otis, the argument coming from the living
room steadily making me feel more and more uncomfortable.
“Soundin' a bit heated ain't it. Jest wait here a moment. Tissy'd throw a fit if ya went in there righ'
naow,” sighed the brunette on the stairs with me, not moving an inch in a supposed effort to earn a bit of
my trust.
“I was intending to. I don't want to cause anymore problems. I also feel a bit bad for poor Baby. She was
technically here first. She had fallen in love with him far before I came here. She also has a few fair
points. His behavior here isn't exactly fair,” I replied, slipping my weapon slowly back into my pocket but
keeping my hand on the handle just in case.
“Heh, an' who sez he has t'be? Yer bright, I'm sure ya c'n figure out why he treats ya s'diff'rent. I dun
recollect gettin' yer name by th'by,” my companion pointed out, his hand lowering to his sides as he
seemed to relax a bit.
“Cause I didn't give it. Guess you deserve to know though, seeing as how I have a member of your family
inside me. Raven,” I offered, making no move to offer my hand. Thankfully, Otto understood; chuckling as
he shook his head.
“Dun blame ya fer not bein' personable darlin'. We ain't exactly normal people here. 'Sides, I look forward
t'earnin' yer trust lil lady,” the taller, older male sighed, leaning against the wall as he slipped his hands
into his tight jeans pockets.
“Good luck with that,” I scoffed, making my way down the rest of the stairs and toward the dining room.
Unfortunately, this room was right across from the living room. If I wanted to avoid confrontation, the
best thing I could do was turn my back to that room and move as fast as possible. That meant I would
have to take my eyes off Otto, leaving me very open to a surprise attack.
Eyeing the brunette, I decided to put him to a little test. If he made a wrong move, Otis would see it so I
should be safe. At least in theory. Giving the murderer on the stairs one last look, I made my move; only
making it part way into the dining room before I heard my name get called from behind me. Freezing like
a caught child, I turned slowly to face the living room; greeted to Otis just standing there as if nothing
was happening just seconds before. Baby, on the other hand, glared at me from her position on the couch;
blood dribbling freely from her split lip. “Come here,” the wraith hissed, motioning with his hand.
Giving what I hoped was an apologetic glance to the woman who was practically my sister, I moved
toward my lover. “I want ya t'go out back and help R.J. If we're gonna git caught anyway, might as well
go out with a bang,” snarled the psychotic male.
“Wouldn't do thet if'n I were you Tissy. Aluminum skull is out thar. Has been since early this mornin',”
interjected a calm voice from the doorway.
This, of course, made my blood run cold. Choppy was extremely unpredictable, who knew how he would
react to me today. Yet, I couldn't avoid him forever; a fact Otis seemed fully aware of. “She c'n take care
of herself. 'Sides, if R.J. lets something happen t'her it'll be his head,” snarled my violent partner before he
was pressing his hunting knife into my hand. Taking that as my cue, I left; not looking forward to seeing
just what the pair outside were doing.

Real Talk
WARNING!! : A lot of blood! Desecration of dead bodies! Desecration of religious symbols and ideology!
Crucifixion of corpses!
Author's Note: Heh, if you're easily offended you'd have stopped reading looooong before this chapter.
Still, this one isn't too pleasant. Sometimes I wonder what's wrong with me.

Twenty-Two: Real Talk

The scent of blood was the first thing that hit me and I was a few feet away from the huge barn R.J. used
as his makeshift garage. It was also used for some of the projects the family took part in, including the
death of Hugo. Just being near the building filled me with nausea, the thick, coppery scent pouring from
the open doors not helping one bit. Taking a breath through my mouth to avoid the smell, I immediately
regretted life itself as the taste of it filled said orifice. It was almost as if I was drinking straight from
a cut jugular vein, coming close to making me gag before I had even set foot in the place. This, of course,
didn't give me much confidence about actually entering.
Placing a hand on the rounded dome of my womb, I took a breath to gather my courage before going
inside. The sight that greeted me upon doing so came very close to just making me turn around to go back
inside, no matter what Otis had to say about it. On the rear wall of the structure, where we had hung
Hugo before getting to work on him, was what looked like a homemade crucifix. That, in and of itself,
wasn't the disturbing part. It was what was posed on it that came close to making me puke my guts out.
Juxtaposed on the wooden, lower case 't' were the two bodies of the cops, the younger positioned over the
older in a 69 pose. As I got closer, I saw they had been tied to each other as well as the crucifix with
barbed wire, a matching crown on George's head. Blood trickled lazily from the wounds made by the sharp
barbs on the string of wire and his eyes had been glued open so he had a rather shocked expression on his
mustached face. Shuddering at the sight, I switched my focus from the bodies to the pair under them;
only feeling more apprehension when I saw they had both drawn their knives and were currently yelling
at eachother.
Not really wanting to approach but having little to no choice, I cleared my throat as I got closer; nearly
overwhelmed by an instinct to flee when both men turned to give me a withering glare. As soon as R.J.
saw it was me, however, he immediately deflated; a look of outright fear coming over his face as he
dropped his weapon. Choptop, on the other hand, merely looked annoyed as he sheathed his own knife with
a sour expression. “Th'Hell're you doin' out here?” he hissed, pulling out his trusty hanger to scratch at
the exposed plate embedded in his skull.
“Otis sent me out to help,” I sighed, not too surprised when the crazed hippie merely laughed in response.
“Ya gotta be kiddin' me! A girl like you dun belong out here, doin' things like this. Ya'd jest start thrown'
up 'n' cryin' 'n' jest making everythin' a huge ol' mess,” the psychopath chuckled, dismissing me with a wave
of his hand. It was only when R.J. backed away from him like he had the plague that he began to look just
a little uneasy.
Looking around as if he expected a hidden camera crew, the half bald killer only grew more disconcerted
when the man he had been arguing with motioned me to come forward. “Dun mind him. Do whatever ya
want. All I know is Otis wants a message carved on em,” the normally stoic man murmured, his tan
complexion horribly pale as he used a winch to lower the cross to the dirt floor. This seemed to set
Choppy right the fuck off, pale eyes shining with rage as he rushed the much bigger man; grabbing the
collar of R.J.'s shirt while his eyes bugged out of his head.
“Yer not tellin' me we're 'bout t'let some broad in on our project! I dun care what Caspar in thar sez, that
bitch ain't touchin' mah hard work. She'll jest girl it up,” he spat, the bear skin clad man he was yelling at
looking just as neutral as ever.
“Alrigh', you jest tell thet t'Otis then. Sure he ain't far behind,” Rufus Jr. suggested, brushing off the
shorter, thinner man before moving to stand by my side; as if to protect me in his 'brother's' stead.
The singular member of the Sawyer family only bared his teeth, cursing as he stomped around and
proceeded to throw a tantrum. After a few minutes he finally spat a hostile agreement, crossing his arms
across his bony chest and frowning like a spoiled child denied a toy he wanted. Rolling my eyes slightly, I
brought up the knife Otis gave me; approaching the blood drenched pair as the cross they were tied to
was laid flat on the ground. From the looks of it, they had been worked over pretty good; leaving me with
little I could possibly add to the mess. The younger man's jaw had even been pried open, the flaccid
member of his partner placed in his gaping mouth.
It was then inspiration struck, my muse whispering something in my ear while my mind blanked and my
hand moved. By the time I was done, a perverted verse from the bible had been carved across the back of
the young deputy. 'This is my body. Take it and eat. This my blood. The blood of a new and everlasting
covenant. Drink and do this in remembrance of me.' The quote from the last supper. Just seeing such a
sacrilegious act committed by my own hand filled the bit of my stomach with a sickening, burning guilt.
While I had never put much stock in the teachings of Yahweh, it felt a whole different level of wrong to
disrespect a God so blatantly. Especially after what had happened to me.
“Not bad… Ya c'n read it clearly and the text looks nice 'nough,” grumbled a higher mid-tone from behind
me, bringing me the rest of the way back to reality with a cold wash of fear. Doing my best not to freeze,
I turned my head to give a curt nod to Choptop.
“Thanks. It's not my first time you know,” I pointed out, not really knowing why I felt the need to point
that out to this man. He couldn't possibly give two shits about what I had done and when.
“Yeah, seems like twig butt taught ya a thing 'r two… But ya got no style, nothin' that makes it yer own,”
he continued, pursing his lips as he continued to look over my work.
“Thet comes with time an' you know it chrome-dome,” hissed a deeper mid-tone from the entry of the
barn, making us both turn to Otis as he made his way toward us; Otto not far behind. While the ghoul
looked furious, his cousin couldn't look more pleased; an amused grin on his face as he watched events
unfold.
Giving Choptop a glare, my lover shifted his gaze to me; narrowing his sky blue eyes as he looked me over
for any injuries. Once satisfied, his eyes shifted to the corpses on the floor; his angry expression slowly
fading for something that came close to resembling pride. Yet, as soon as it was there, it was gone just as
quickly; replaced with his signature frown. “Ya did good. Me, R.J., Otto and nancy boi here have got it
from here. Git on inside and listen to thet scanner. Send out Mama or Baby if ya hear anythin' 'bout them
pigs makin' their way out here,” spat the wraith, holding out a hand for his knife.
Placing the hilt in his palm, I left all too gladly; just happy my churning stomach hadn't betrayed me.
Still, as I made my way through the kitchen and toward the living room, I couldn't help but think about
the argument my murderous companion and his sister had about me just moments ago. With how heated
it had sounded, I highly doubted the blonde was exactly looking forward to seeing me or the pregnant
belly I sported. If I was her, I would feel incredibly hurt every time I saw the other woman. Knowing
her, however, the psychotic woman was also tempted to just rip the child out of my womb.
Still, I had little choice and I took a moment to palm the butterfly knife I had stashed in my right pants
pocket. Taking a deep breath, I entered the room; a wave of malice hitting me almost instantly. It didn't
take an empath to sense the anger swirling in the air, even with the blonde facing away from me. If she
turned to look at me, there was no doubt in my mind that I'd spontaneously combust on the spot. Needless
to say, none of this helped me feel any better about going any further in. It was only the order from Otis
that made me keep moving, feeling angry eyes burning on my skin as I walked to the police scanner on the
coffee table. Avoiding Baby's gaze, I turned on the huge machine; tuning it to the proper frequency and
holding my breath as the two men from before began to talk.
Thankfully, it was just idle chatter; nothing to indicate they were even close to mobilizing. There were a
few concerning mentions of Wydell's 'crazy ass brother' but nothing that led me to believe he was on our
scent yet. Switching off the device with a sigh of relief, I became aware of another person standing right
beside me. Turning my head slowly, I saw a very pissed Baby just inches away from me. Cold, blue eyes
fixed on me as she took huge breaths, a kitchen knife clutched tightly in one hand. Tightening my grip on
my own weapon while keeping it in my pocket, I turned to face her; hoping it wouldn't go as far as an
actual fight.
Not only was I not all that confidant about my ability to defend myself against her but I doubted my
condition would help matters. “What makes you so special? Why… why is he lettin' ya keep yer baby…
I-I thought… I thought I knew him til ya came along! Now he's actin' all strange and its cause of you
and that brat,” she spat, her thin body shaking as tears began to fill her innocent eyes.
“I… I don't know. I'm just as shocked as you are. With everything I know about your brother, none of
this should be happening. The only person he's ever cared about before was you,” I explained as calmly as I
could, wanting nothing more than to just skirt around her and run to the room. There was just no way in
Hell any of this would end well.
To my utter astonishment, the murderess merely gave me a confused look; tilting her head to one side as
sympathy mixed with the hurt and anger on her pale face. “Ya mean… ya really dun realize… I mean, I
know Otis c'n be a bit rough but… Ya mean ya really haven't noticed?” she whispered, all fight seeming to
leak out of her as she set her knife on the table right by the scanner.
“Noticed what? Both you and Otto act like you know something I don't and I'm the one who's been living
with the man,” I spat, my temper coming to the surface against my will. In an instant, the other woman
was taking me into her arms; shushing me gently as she led me to the couch.
Taking a seat next to me, the woman who was basically my sister patted my knee before looking around
for any sign of her 'brother' or his cousin. “If'n neither of 'em told ya, I certainly ain't but this changes
thangs. I almost feel sorry fer ya…,” she murmured, rubbing the back of her head as a shamed smile came
over her face. It was almost as if she felt silly for being jealous in the first place, a fact that confused me
greatly.
“If ya dun even realize… I cain't very well hold it against ya. Kinda silly that I did in th'first place
naow that I think 'bout it. Yer fam'ly an' Otis trusts ya. Its jest a lot t'git used ta,” she continued, only
making me feel more confused as well as irritated.
Brushing her off as I shook my head, I merely gave her a slight glare before deciding to just let it go.
Neither Otto or Baby were about to tell me what they were going on about and it wasn't really worth
the headache to keep worrying about it. Besides, if it was anything important, Otis would tell me himself.
So, grabbing the remote for the TV off the top of the police scanner, I simply turned on the electronic box
and flipped to an old horror movie. “So… are we really like that to you?” asked a shy voice from beside
me after a moment, drawing my attention back to her.
At first, her random comment confused me. Then I saw she was looking at the movie and it clicked. “Yeah,
you and the Sawyers weren't really real where I came from. It still kinda blows my mind that I'm even
here,” I replied, wondering just how much Otis had explained to her and Mama.
“So… you know everything that's going to happen?” came a hopeful, almost frightened whisper; drawing
my attention solely to Baby.
Blue eyes were fixed on me as if I held all the answers, as if I could save all of them. Licking my lips as I
rubbed the back of my head, I shook my head. “Yes and no. Some things have happened that weren't in the
movie and some things have happened a lot slower. Most of it has been right but, because of my own
actions, I can't really say what will happen. I've already changed the course of events from what they
would have been… At least I hope so…,” I sighed, avoiding her gaze as I focused on the matted carpet
below my shoes.
“Wh-what were ya hopin' ta do with alla this? What happens t'us?” came a response I truly didn't want to
hear.
Closing my eyes as I grimaced, I cradled the growing child in my womb as I took another deep breath for
courage. Even after all I had been through, had done because of Otis; just thinking about what would have
happened made my heart cramp into a painful ball inside my chest. “Y-you all d-die… Wydell's brother
takes Mama and R.J. by surprise while you and Otis sneak out the back to meet Captain Spaulding. They're
the first victims… Y-you guys try to run but you soon come across some travelers who distract you.
You and Otis were caught… Wydell tortures h-him… You two manage to escape for a bit with
Spaulding but die in a blaze of fire with the cops not too long after…,” I whispered, my heart breaking
more the longer I spoke. Soon I was downright sobbing, my body shaking as old emotions welled up inside
me.
“Oh honey… Shhhh, shhhh, shhhh. Nothin's happened yet. We're all safe thanks to yew. Wai, you alerting
Otis to thet one girl was more'n enough t'slow down th'pigs at least,” whispered a sweet voice in my ear as
the blonde wrapped me in her arms.
“I-I know that but… Just thinking about anything happening to Otis… Christ Baby, I only love him
more since I came here. After everything he's done, made me do… I love the sick bastard,” I replied, my
eyes widening as I realized what I had said. I had confessed my true feelings for a psychopath, a man who
couldn't have any sort of feelings for me by definition. My only solace was I had merely spilled the beans
to his sister and not to the man himself. I never noticed the pair standing in the kitchen.
Pale blue eyes narrowed, a stubble coated pair of lips pursing as a more muscular figure comes to stand
slightly behind him. “Told ya Tissy. That woman… I ain't never seen someone so smitten afore and its all
over yer skinny ass,” cooed a deep baritone, a tanned hand closing over a shockingly pale, bony shoulder.
“As if I din know that. She would slit her own throat jest cause I ordered it. Hearin' her say she loves me
is no surprise t'me… Hearin' her s'broken up 'bout seein' me dead… Cripes Otto… Th'Hell'd I git myself
into?” hissed the wraith, looking almost scared as he turned to face his blood relative. All he got was a
sympathetic expression as the brunette shook his head slowly.
“Its called love and I think ya know thet. You protect her, look after her better'n ya do th'others. On top
of that, it almost seems like yer lookin' forward to th'child. Look at it this way, if'n sumthin' happens ta
that thar gal; do ya think you'll be able t'go back to normal right away?” the handsome Texan pointed out,
scratching his left cheek where his beauty mark was. Otis only tensed briefly before letting out a quiet
growl as he began to pace angrily.
“'Course not! She's… she's everything t'me now and thet's what pisses me off! I've stopped havin' sex with
her on account'a thet brat she's carryin'! Worst part is, I cain't relieve myself with th'stock downstairs
over even Baby without feelin' guilty 'bout it,” spat the thin murderer, his brow furrowed with fury as
well as reluctant worry.
“I ain't never felt this way for no bitch afore. It's… it's almost scary Toto… Now… now I actually
care… I know how it feels to want… to want to protect someone,” Otis confessed, stopping long enough
to run a shaky hand through his white hair. Still, he was not comforted when a hand closed over his
shoulder.
Instead, the wraith shrugged off the appendage; glowering at one of his very few blood relations. All in
all, Otto was the only person from his family he bothered to have contact with. Mostly due to the fact he
was the only one who shared the near albino's taste for sadistic torture and murder. Yet that didn't
mean he liked the man. His cousin was far more brash, more showy about what he did. He was known to
run his mouth about literally everything and, the most irritating thing was, he was normally spot on.
That meant the dickhead's advice was normally worth listening to. Still, that didn't make not stabbing a
knife into the center of his cousin's grin any easier. “Go ahead and jest say it… Git it th'fuck outta yer
system now,” Otis hissed, doing his best to keep his rising rage from boiling over as the brunette smirking
at him began to chuckle.
Holding his hands up as a teasing grin came over his handsome face, Otto shook his head as he made a
show of rolling his cerulean eyes. “What? Ya think we're still in preschool? I'm way too old ta tease ya
'bout finally finding someone you actually give more than one fuck about,” he assured, his words feeling
sarcastic and not even a tiny bit sincere. Fighting the urge to hiss at the taller man, the ghoul simply
narrowed his eyes before shoving his way through; heading toward the living room to check on his
pregnant companion. He only stopped when he felt a hand grab his upper arm.
Spinning out of the grip, Otis pulled out his hunting knife on sheer instinct; pointing the weapon mere
inches from Otto's face. “I did want ta talk t'ya 'bout some thangs though,” the brown haired murderer
explained, a strange expression in his denim colored eyes.
“Make it fuckin' speedy,” hissed the seething wraith, his pale eyes moving to Choptop as the other man
opened the back door to come into the house.
“It's 'bout yer girl. She dun have a clue 'bout… certain things,” Otto responded, giving the man across
from him a pointed gaze while the singular member of the Sawyer family that had joined them rolled his
eyes and continued on his way into the house.
“Ya best start makin' sense real damn quick,” Otis spat, his voice pitched low as his gaze stayed focused on
the man who looked so much like him but was much more unpredictable. It only made him more nervous
that the crazed hippy was making his way toward the voices of the women.
“She dun know ya actually love her. I know you ain't inta alla thet mushy stuff but, dayum Tissy. With
all th'shit 'bout t'go down ya need t'make sure she knows jest where ya stand! Or do ya want t'die without
her knowin' jest what she means t'ya,” Otto pointed out, pursing his lips when his only family began to
nibble his own lips in thought.
Unaware of the conversation that had happened until much later, I simply decided to spend some time
with Baby to watch movies while I tried to calm down. Confessing my feelings to my lover's jealous and
psychotic 'sister' wasn't exactly my smartest move. Yet, to my unending surprise, she seemed to take it in
stride. In fact, she seemed to calm down entirely, all hints of her earlier ire simply vanishing as if it had
never existed in the first place. Instead of dwelling on this, however, I chose to just accept the
circumstances as part of her craziness. If I didn't, there was every likelihood I would simply go mad from
trying to comprehend the sudden switch. “Hey, bitch. Yer lover boy and Otter-pop r'discussin' ya,”
whispered a raspy mid-tone that sent a chill down my spine.
“An' jest what d'you care what they do and who they're talkin' 'bout,” spat Baby as we both turned to look
at the intruder.
Stringy wisps of what was left of his white hair hung in a gaunt, almost skull-like face as pale blue eyes
glared at me. Huffing and rolling his angry orbs, Choppy simply took hold of one of my arms to yank me to
my feet; ignoring the blonde next to me as she shot to her feet and pulled a butterfly knife from her
pocket. “Jest hold yer water bimbo. I ain't stupid enough ta try t'kill this sow. We jest need ta talk real
quick. There are a lotta thangs I need ta know that she jest won't tell me,” hissed the 60's themed
psychopath, shoving me behind his back as the youngest Firefly flicked open her weapon.
“Th'Hell ya do! If'n she hasn' tol' ya yet, she ain't gonna. I also ain't 'bout t' jest sit by an' allow ya t'whisk
her off somewhere,” the flaxen haired murderess snarled, going into a fighting stance as the pair began to
circle eachother.
Narrowing my eyes, I gave Baby a pointed glance before taking Choptop's bone thin arm into a loose hold.
Giving a tug to get his focus on me, I gave him my best seductive smile as I moved the hand on his arm up
to a grizzled cheek. Immediately, his eyes locked on me; his lips parting as his breath halted. Making sure I
had my other hand on my balisong, I allowed myself to stroke him; more than a little surprised when I
felt an electric jolt shoot up my arm from the action. Still, I stood my ground; watching as his eyes
softened and his breathing slowed. Pulling him close by the back of his neck, I took in the hopeful glimmer
in his baby blues right before I flipped open my blade and placed the sharp point right on his jugular. “You
can talk to me alone any time you want sugar. Just keep in mind this kitten's got claws,” I spat, not liking
the guilt that filled me at the betrayed expression on his skull-like face.
A sudden creak near the entry of the living room drew all of our attentions to a fuming Otis as well as a
seemingly amused Otto. “Good girl Raven. Naow head on upstairs. I got somethin' ta tell ya after this
fairy and I have a 'conversation',” hissed the obviously pissed off murderer, just a hint of fear on his
stubble covered face. Giving a nod, I backed away from the rail thin hippie with my weapon still drawn;
stopping long enough to give my pale partner a kiss on his lips in an effort to show who I belonged to. The
wraith purred in response, wrapping an arm around me as his tongue briefly licked my lips; drawing a
small gasp from me as he pulled away.
“Go on naow. Lock th'door til I git thar an' don't let anyone in but me. Not even Baby or Mama,” husked an
urgent mid-tone, chapped lips pressing to my forehead before a pair of hands was pushing me towards the
stairs. Not sparing a look backward, I made my way to our room; locking the door behind me as soon as I
was safely inside.
Sitting in the darkness, waiting for my lover, I found myself having a lot of time to think of my odd
reaction to the man known as 'Choptop' Sawyer. It has almost been like I was with Otis in that moment,
only the knowledge of the danger he posed keeping me grounded enough to defend myself. Touching the
lips that had pressed against his greasy cheek, I wondered just what the fuck was going on as a shudder
rolled through my body. Whatever it was, it needed to stop. The crazy psychopath was nothing I wanted
to get involved with, especially with me already deeply involved with someone much more dangerous
than he was.
Glaring at the ceiling as I reached over to turn on the lamp Mama had recently bought for us, I silently
cursed out any of the known Gods that could be watching me at this moment. Surely whatever was going
on had to be some sick joke and I was growing tired of all the strain it was putting me under. It was then
a quick knock on the door shattered my thoughts and I was on my feet, my heart pounding as I asked who
it was. “Otis. Let me in already,” spat a familiar voice, making me feel just a little bit better as I swung
open the wood separating us.
The instant it was open, the almost albino wraith charged in; shutting and locking the passage behind him.
Sky blue eyes glared at me through white-blonde locks, a thin chest heaving as his sneering lips twitched.
Reaching for me, he took me into a tight hold; his teeth biting my lips as he began to practically chew my
face off. His breath came in hot pants as his hands scrabbled at my back. He only seemed to soften once he
assured himself I was solid, his teeth leaving for lips as he slowly relaxed around me. “Fuckin' Hell… Rat
fink is right and I hate it s'much I could spit!” Otis hissed, his fingers twitching as he began to nip my face;
moving to my neck as he began to utter obscenities toward a person I could only assume was Otto.
Before I could ask what he was talking about, the agitated monster pulled back enough to look me in the
eyes. Seeming both furious and nervous at the same time, he licked his peeling lips before pressing his
forehead against mine and taking a shaky breath. “'m fuckin' scared fer the first time in mah life and
you'd better damn well be worth it, ya hear?” whispered his rasp of a voice, sounding as close to
vulnerable as I'd ever heard him.
“Raven… I want ya t'listen gewd cause I ain't got no intention of sayin' any of this agin. I fuckin' love
ya,” came a confession that made my reality grind to a complete halt.
Betrayals and Discoveries
WARNING!!: Non-consensual oral sex.

Author's Note: There will be some time skips here and there. Bout a month and a half will pass by the
time this chapter is done. That'll make Raven eight months pregnant.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Betrayals and Discoveries

Literally everything ground to a screeching halt while his words echoed in my ears, my heart-beat and
breathing included. Surely, this unfeeling monster hadn't just said what I thought he had. I'd finally
snapped, that was the only plausible explanation and certainly better than allowing myself to believe
this ruthless killer had confessed his love for me. Such a notion was dangerous and likely to get me
killed. The only problem was, the ghoul seemed to be waiting for a response and that false confession had
been all my addled brain had allowed me to hear. Still, it would be even more suicidal to ask him to
repeat himself than it would be to respond to what I had heard and I found myself in quite a conundrum.
Taking a deep breath, I decided to just bite the bullet and respond to what my addled brain had made up.
Maybe, with how much affection he held for me, the ruthless killer would find it in his heart not to
murder me on the spot. “Well, you already know I love you,” I murmured, fighting against the urge to
cower as I met his eyes steadily.
“Yeah, 'spose I do. Jest fig'red t'was time ya knew how I feel 'bout ya too,” he sighed, a genuine smile
curving his lips as he took in my astonished expression.
“Didn't think I had it in me, did ya?” husked his mid-tone as he bent to brush his lips against mine, his arms
tightening slightly as I tried to fully comprehend the words that had just come out of his mouth.
It had been a simple enough phrase but the person it had come out of had made the vocabulary almost
seem like it was Greek. Shaking my head slightly, I tried my best to push away my confusion to truly
respond. After all, this had to have been the first time he'd ever done or felt anything like this. So,
lifting my arms, I took what might be my only opportunity to reciprocate his real feelings and pressed
my lips against his; laving my tongue over his chapped lips slowly. He responded with a gruff rumble, his
mouth parting open under mine as his unkempt nails dug into my back through my shirt.
With a soft sigh, I broke the lip-lock to meet his sky blue eyes; seeing all manner of intense emotions
burning within them. “Otis, I know I said it earlier but… I really love you. Everything I've done has
been for your well-being and we're getting close to the end game now. If… if anything goes wrong, you
and your family could…,” I murmured, interrupted by the beast darting forward to attack my mouth
once again; teeth pulling at my lower lip. Then he was backing me toward the bed, pushing me down into
the mattress so his body could hover over mine; his kiss softening slightly as one of his hands came to
rest on my large tummy.
The next morning, I sat up to stare at the slumbering wraith next to me; my brow furrowed in
consternation. For a few moments last night, it had seemed like he was going to break the strange dry
spell he'd imposing upon himself. Yet, just when things were starting to get a bit heated, he'd simply
stopped; his white hair hanging in his face as he panted. His jaw had tensed as he seemed to fight with
himself, hungry eyes roving over my pregnant body as he let out a shuddering growl. Then he had laid
beside me, his arms twitching as he wrapped them around me and pressed his body against mine; staying
like that until we'd both fallen asleep.
Shaking my head in wonder at his tenacity, I simply pressed a kiss to his temple before getting out of bed.
Last night, R.J. and Choptop had put out the gruesome crucifix that had been made from the two cops the
family had killed. I wanted to go downstairs to check the scanner as well as to get a bite to eat. While I
knew no one could have found the sacrilegious statue yet, I still needed to confirm it for my own sanity,
especially after what had happened last night. I was still having a hard time believing it had happened at
all, my jade colored eyes moving to the unconscious form on the bed as I opened the door. Biting my lower
lip, I felt a faint feeling of dread as I moved to the other side of the door. “I love you Otis,” I whispered,
closing the door behind me before making my way down the hall.
Unfortunately for my peace of mind, days went by with no word over the police radio. In fact, it seemed
they hadn't even found what the Fireflies had left up for them. Still, that hadn't helped me feel any
better. The not knowing, coupled with the endless waiting, was slowly driving me insane; a fact that
hadn't gone unnoticed by any of the people in the house. Otis and Choppy especially, the two men
watching me like a hawk when they weren't having a silent battle for dominance. It was enough to make
me want to run away or tear my hair out, whichever came first. Needless to say, I spent most of my time
hanging out by the scanner; just waiting for any sign of Wydell's brother having found out what had
happened.
So, it was really no surprise when my rough lover had simply thrown me over his shoulder and carted my
butt upstairs after a week of such unhealthy behavior. Laying back on the bed we shared as he stormed
out, I found myself both amused and a bit angry that he had ordered me not to leave unless I was hungry
or had to go to the bathroom. Still, I was in no position to argue; no matter how helpless being trapped up
here made me feel. The best thing I could do was find some way to distract myself, my eyes traveling to
the sketchbook on the nightstand. I had only drawn a few things in there so far, not having much time
between torturing someone or having sex with Otis. Now would be the perfect time.
As the sun began to set, I looked down at my work with a feeling of satisfaction. I had done many
sketches of the lion version of Otis I had designed when I was in highschool. I'd even thrown in a few of
Otto, Baby and even Choptop; the sight of these vicious people reduced to animals making me smile just
slightly. Closing the book, I looked down at my seven month pregnant tummy before laying down and
stretching. As silly as it seemed, drawing that much had really worn me out; a yawn escaping me as I
rolled onto my right side and closed my eyes. A short nap wouldn't hurt, my breathing becoming slow and
even as I slipped into unconsciousness. Yet, something nagged at me; making me feel oddly like I had
forgotten something very important. Then everything simply faded to black and I knew no more.
Floating, nothingness and safety. Yet, there was a strange feeling penetrating the soft comfort of
oblivion. Something wet and warm moving on my slit, causing the most tantalizing tingles of pleasure to
skitter through my veins as a sigh left me. Humming quietly, I subconsciously opened myself to the
sensation; gasping as something warm, wet and muscular penetrated my quivering opening. Arching my
back as I felt myself slowly slipping back to consciousness, my hands landed on cold metal that was
partially covered by torn, dry flesh. That alone was enough to make my eyes snap open, a soft moan
escaping me as a tongue wrapped around my sensitive button.
Shifting my still blurred gaze, I saw something that made my breath stutter as my heart threatened to
stop. A steel plated skull was between my thighs, scraggly hair brushing against my skin as his eyes shot
up to meet mine. Then he was sucking hard on my clit, only causing the fire within me to build; to my
extreme horror. Gasping out a plea for him to stop, I did my best to back away from his hot mouth. This
only resulted in him grabbing my hips to hold me in place, his efforts increasing as the coil in my lower
body grew tighter and tighter. “N-nnnnnh,” gritted out of me from between clenched teeth, my last
attempt at a denial as my breathing began to hitch; my hands yanking at what was left of the beast's hair.
To my horror, I heard the door creak as I started to tip over the edge into oblivion; tears flowing down
my cheeks as a strangled gargle left me in place of the scream clawing at my vocal cords. “Th'fuck?!”
hissed the half stunned voice of Otis as I came down from my unwanted peak. The psycho between my
thighs pulled upward, giving a shit-eating grin to the man I had chosen to be my lover.
“Was what I was tryin' t'do afore ya decided t'interrupt us,” hissed the hippie, his distraction giving me
an opening to get him the fuck off me.
Kicking out with my feet, I nailed the bastard in the nuts with the heels of my foot; watching him
collapse like a pile of sticks with a feeling of righteous vengeance. Reaching up to grab the knife I had
forgotten on the nightstand in the heat of the moment, I scooted away from the writhing killer; sitting
on my knees in an effort to both hide myself and to be ready to strike if the need should arise. Otis, on
the other hand, was already moving; his left hand wrapping around Choptop's neck while his right pulled
out his hunting knife.
In a movement too quick to follow, the wraith had the man who looked so much like him pinned against
the wall; his teeth bared as he rested the point of his knife under the other man's chin. “Git dressed and
go th'fuck downstairs!” roared the shaking beast I had come here to save, his eyes wild as he increased
pressure with the blade. This caused the very tip of the weapon to slice into the skin under the other
killer's chin as his hand tightened on Choppy's throat.
“No,” I hissed, not caring that I was disobeying this dangerous person for the first time since I had gotten
here.
Getting to my feet to pull on some maternity jeans, I was well aware of the glower I was getting from
my unpredictable companion but I honestly didn't care. A sense of violation as well as unreasonable rage
had replaced any of my normal level headedness. Instead of listening to any of the logic my brain was
trying to throw at me, I simply gripped the balisong my boyfriend had given me; stomping over to stand
by his side. “You're not the only one this filth has wronged here,” hissed out of me, my vision going red as
I entered a very strange state of mind. A state I usually reverted to when I was participating in one of
Otis' 'bonding' activities. It was cold, distant and very cruel; seeming to relish pain much like the monster
to my right did. I would have no problem torturing this pathetic member of the Sawyer family for
committing such an unforgivable wrong.
“Th'fuck ya thin yer doing?! I told ya t'git yer fuckin' ass downstairs,” snarled his response, his anger
practically stabbing my skin as I turned my head to meet his furious eyes.
In the meantime, Choptop was gurgling as he began to turn slightly blue; his heels drumming loudly
against the scribble covered wall behind him. Growling, the near albino choking him loosened the grip just
slightly; allowing the chrome-domed freak to grab a few breaths of air. “And I said no! He fuckin' raped
me and you expect me to just go on down to the family while 'my man' takes care of it? Nothing doing! You
allowed me to get mine back from Hugo, why're ya forcing me to take a step back now?!” I spat, the darker
part of me fully in charge as my temper fumed.
Yet, as my assailant's bloodshot eyes met mine, I felt some of that killing urge fade. He looked so much
like Otis, had even felt like him during the act he'd committed on me. Even the energy he gave off felt
similar, not to mention the shared memories we had due to some connection he had with my lover. A
connection none of us could even begin to understand. Despite what he had done, I felt my heart actually
begin to twist in my chest at the thought of ending his life. “Cause there's some freaky thing between the
two of ya! He remembers the things I've done with you as if he's done them himself! Ya can't tell me ya
wouldn't try t'stop me from carryin' out justice,” growled a deep rasp from beside me, a knowing
expression on his gaunt, stubble covered visage.
I wanted to argue right away but found myself unable to. While I knew nothing about this man, I still
felt a strange connection to him. Watching him die would be akin to seeing Otis die and I wasn't sure I
could commit such an act with my own hand. “This is what I'm talkin' 'bout. Go on down. I'm gonna take
care of business whether you like it or not,” the wraith hissed, increasing pressure on the knife and
pushing more of the blade into Choptop's chin. Without thinking, I reached out to grab the arm holding
the knife; pulling slightly in an effort to get him to stop. The look I got in return from my lover made me
feel lower than the dirt embedded in the carpet.
“Please, I don't know why but… I just can't let you kill him. Its like he is you,” I blurted, the statement
feeling correct despite not knowing what it meant.
“What?!” both men snarled in unison, Otis dropping his would-be victim as he turned to face me.
I could only rub the back of my head as I fumbled around for a means to explain myself. While Otis would
probably understand, if only slightly; Choptop certainly wouldn't. “I think the reason why we're
experiencing what we are is that you two are played by the same actor in the reality I came from. I have
idea why it affected things here but its all I have. If you kill him, there's really no telling what will
happen to you. It almost seems like you two share a soul link or something,” I informed, watching the
very similar pair in front of me.
While still obviously different people, they shared a lot of facial features as well as some movement
habits. Even some of their speech patterns were the same, only giving credence to her assumptions. Otis
pinched the bridge of his nose while looking irritated, his practical doppelganger just looking confused as
well as angry. “Th'fuck ya talking 'bout? Yer… 'reality'? Same actor playing us?! Are ya fuckin' touched in
th'head?” spat the confused hippie, scratching nervously at his exposed plate with his trusty hanger.
“No, she ain't. She knows things she shouldn't. Things that happened almost exactly like she said they
would. She also seemed t'know me afore we'd even met, doin' all th'right things t'make sure I dun kill her,”
my temperamental lover sighed, sounding like he was loathe to even explain that much to the other man
in the room.
The confused madman only furrowed his pasty brow, looking from me to Otis and back again. Opening his
mouth to say something, the reject from the 60's found himself interrupted by a knock on the door-frame.
“Hate t'butt in but we got a bit of a problem down thar,” purred the sonorous voice of Otto, sounding
downright livid. Moving my gaze to him, I saw his furious gaze fixed on the man he'd brought with him; a
muscle ticking in a tanned cheek. This got the dangerous duo moving, leaving me alone with someone who
could be considered an in-law.
“Th'bastard hurt ya?” husked out of him from his position in the doorway.
“Not in the sense of the word. Doesn't make what happened right though…,” I whispered, distressed to
find I honestly felt less violated than I had initially let on. In fact, other than the fervor caused by my
initial shock, I hadn't really felt much but guilt as well as an anger for him doing such a thing without
my consent. I didn't feel dirty or any of the other emotions normally associated with rape.
“No, it doesn't honey. I cain't apologize enough fer what he done either. I was s'possed t'keep an eye on
him,” Otto whispered, motioning for me with his hand.
Narrowing my eyes at the gesture, I decided to stay where I was. As hard as he was trying to gain my
trust, I knew better than to let my guard down around a killer. “Why was he here if you were the one
keeping an eye on him,” I quipped, having a slight suspicion that he might be responsible for some of what
happened.
“He, uh, he snuck away from me while I was tunin' th'scanner and, uh, talkin' t'Baby,” he confessed, eyes
moving side to side like he was afraid Otis would appear any second to gut him. The youngest member of
the Firefly clan had been the closest thing to a girlfriend the ghoul had before I came along. To say he
was possessive of her would be an understatement of epic proportions.
“Really? Otis catches ya with her, your guts will be used for garters,” I pointed out, walking toward the
door to go downstairs and join my lover. Not only did I want to see what was going on down there but I
also wanted to make sure the two men wouldn't try to kill eachother. With how closely they seemed to
be connected, there was really no telling what would happen if one died.
For all I knew, the man I had come here to save would die just because of that; making me understandably
nervous about the pair being left alone together for too long. Unfortunately, Otto seemed unwilling to
move to the side to let me by. “Sorry sweetheart, I think Tissy wants ya t'stay right here. 'Specially with
the news that just came down the line,” he murmured, his words making anxiety squeeze around my heart.
“Wh-what happened?” I gasped, the world around me seeming to shrink as I swayed in place.
“Hey, hey! Easy there! Maybe ya should sit down,” husked a baritone as muscled arms steadied me. Then I
was being steered toward the bed, sitting on the mattress as I fought to keep my grip on reality.
Even when I had first come here, I wasn't as scared as I found myself now. One possibility and one
possibility only stood out in my mind. Wydell was coming. If that was true, we didn't have much time left
we had to start packing as well as arrange for transportation. There was also the fact that, as far as I
knew, we really had nowhere to go. Looking up, I saw denim colored eyes looking down at me with a fair
amount of concern. “You okay? Please tell me you are so I c'n git outta this room. If Tissy catches me in
here, I'm a dead man,” he begged, eyes wide and scared as they moved from me to the empty doorway.
“Y-yeah but… I need to know what's going on down there,” I whispered, biting the inside of my cheek
lightly to help bring my vision back into focus just a bit.
Otto only seemed to sag slightly, casting me a sideways glance before moving back to outside the room. “I
c'n easily tell ya what happened. Some guy called John Quincy Wydell was trying t'circumvent th'law
t'send out a posse our way. Th'deputies are trying t'slow him down a bit but its only a matter of time
afore he comes out on his own. Cause of that, Choptop and I'll be takin' off soon. No offense, but we dun
need t'be caught up in y'all's mess,” he informed, grimacing as if bothered by his own words. Unfortunately,
the lack of the pair's presence was the least of my worries.
“Oh good Christ… We have to get moving, like now,” I whispered mostly to myself, not daring to stand
with how faint I felt. I could feel my heart doing its best to beat its way out of my chest and it was all I
could do to get a really good breath in.
“Doubt Otis'd see it that way. He'd likely want to stay as long as he could. Th'man really doesn't like
change,” Otto sighed, his brow furrowing as he bent his head and began to nibble on his lower lip.
Rubbing my clammy arms as I began to shake badly, I was startled to feel helpless tears pouring down my
cheeks as my chest tightened. Forcing myself to take in a deep breath, I closed my eyes as I sniffled to
clear my air passages of the mucus that had begun to flow. I was having a full on panic attack, something
that hadn't happened for years. Taking in a slow breath through my nose, I let it out just as slowly while
the tears continued to flow. “Could you at least stick around until we know for sure when they're
coming?” I whispered, hating the fact I couldn't control myself in this moment. Not only could I lose Otis
but my own life as well as that of my child. Not to mention the rest of the family.
“Yeah, course I c'n… Wouldn't feel right unless I did. Never been too close with Tissy but th'Fireflys are
okay. There's also you and that baby yer carryin'. That's mah blood. Kinda hard t'just screw y'all over
t'save myself. Cain't say th'same fer ol' Chrome-dome down thar,” came a quick response. I could only nod,
feeling grateful he was ignoring my current emotional state.
The baby inside me, on the other hand, wasn't nearly as polite. Unsettled by my distress, the developing
fetus gave me a sharp kick in the ribs; making me wince as both hands flew instinctually to my large
tummy. “Shit, do ya need me t'git Tissy? Is th'kid comin' already?” exclaimed the panicked voice of my
current companion, making me smile despite the turmoil whirling within my head.
“No, they're jut upset that mama's in a bit of a tizzy. Its their way of telling me to calm down,” I assured,
taking a shuddering breath as the panic attack slowly began to taper off. Otto merely tipped me a
skeptical eyebrow before hollering down the hall for his cousin anyway, only seeming amused by my
angry glare.
Time seemed to pass slowly from that point on, a disturbing silence coming from the scanner. I was just
starting to enter my eighth month before we heard anything at all. I was sitting in the living room,
allowing Baby to hold me against her side as we listened to the static of an unused radio line. Then there
was a series of clicks before a familiar voice began to ask if anyone was listening. “Hey Irv, what's up?”
responded the younger voice right on cue, the sudden communication making me hold my breath in
anticipation.
“That crazy Wydell brother is demanding we go out and examine some godforsaken stretch of road out in
Ruggsville. Wanna go on out this weekend?” came the catalyst we'd all been waiting patiently for.
“I'll call Cutter,” Mama announced, moving out into the hall where the hidden phone was as the rest of
the conversation faded into the background.
It was only Otto turning off the tuner that snapped me out of my spiral of fear. “Time we scrammed. Way
beyond in fact,” he announced, gathering up his machine. Suddenly, Choptop was placing a hand on his
upper arm to stop him; a strange expression on his gaunt face as the adopted member of his family met his
gaze.
“I ain't leavin',” he announced, the declaration making everyone stop to stare at him.
Otis bared his teeth as he pulled his trusty knife, looking like he very much wanted to show the other
man just who was in charge here. Holding up a hand to stop any possible carnage, the wraith's cousin set
the scanner back down before moving his head to one side sharply to crack his neck. “Don't remember
phrasing that as a suggestion,” he hissed before he was striking, bringing down clasped fists on Choptop's
plated head in a movement too fast for any human eye.
“Tissy, mind getting' th'equipment,” he purred before tipping an invisible hat at the two women on the
couch. And, just like that, he was gone; making me feel both relieved as well as apprehensive.
While he and his partner were dangerous, it would have been nice to have the extra hands. Especially
with Spaulding involved. When all was said and done, there was no guarantee the old clown would allow
me in the vehicle with Otis and Baby. That meant I would be with Mama, RJ and Tiny. While the prospect
honestly bothered me, it would be much safer for everyone involved. All the heat would likely be on Otis,
Baby and Spaulding; meaning it was an extreme risk to have a pregnant woman along. All I could hope was
that my protective lover would be willing to allow me away from his side.

Time to Bug Out

Author's Note: Day of the escape. Things don't entirely go as planned.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Time to Bug Out

A hot, dry wind blew through the open yard, dust billowing across the cracked dirt of the desert hard-
pan. A lone figure stood on a rickety, rotting porch, a large cowboy hat perched on top of a white haired
head. Jaw muscle ticking visibly under his stubble coated cheek, he tapped a booted foot impatiently.
“Clown was s'possed t'be here an hour ago,” hissed a furious mid-tone as the wraith-like figure glared at a
worn down watch on his bone thin wrist. I could only watch, finding it best to stay silent after the huge
argument we'd just had.
Only moments earlier, I had dared to suggest I should go with Mama, R.J. and Tiny. That had made Otis
completely blow up, pinning me against the wall as his knife appeared in his hand for the first time in
months. Instead of resting the point against my neck, he had merely brandished it while he yelled. He
made it extremely clear I was to go with him, Spaulding and Baby and that no more would be said about
it. That was when I had temporarily gone insane and argued back. I could still hear the words I had said
in my head. “It would be the smartest course of action and we both know it. Mama and the other two
won't have as nearly a large spotlight on them as you three,” I had reasoned. He went nuclear, to put it
lightly.
After ten minutes of reaming my ass out and telling me I had never mouthed off to him like this before,
he then inferred he had been going too soft on me and that things would change once we were safe.
Needless to say, that had frozen me; apprehension filling me as he grabbed my wrist and dragged me
downstairs. Staring up at his back as I came out of my memories, I huddled next to Mama as I tried to
make myself as small as possible. I hadn't seen him that angry at me in quite some time and I wasn't eager
to see what punishment he had in mind once the baby was born. My only comfort was that he was waiting,
something I was sure wouldn't have happened earlier on in our relationship.
Suddenly, far down the two ruts that served as a driveway, there was a plume from an approaching
vehicle; making my skin tingle as anxiety gripped my heart. While I knew logically that it was too soon
for Wydell to be here, that didn't stop me from wishing I had learned how to use a gun while I could. At
least then I would have been of some use, not that Otis would really allow me to become involved. Still,
seeing the glimmer of the huge van I remembered from the film filled me with relief. It was Spaulding
and he had no idea the killer in front of me had allowed me to keep my child. There was even a possibility
he had no idea I was pregnant at all.
As he pulled up to the house, I found myself cowering behind both Baby and Mama; doing my best to hide
my pregnancy for as long as possible. I just knew that as soon as he saw it, the man was going to blow his
wig. “Alright, lets git loaded and git this here show on the road,” bawled the aging psychopath, wiping a
paint smeared brow with a grimy cloth. Baby snapped to work, carrying out bags of possessions while
Mama turned to comfort me.
“Yew'll be okay dahlin'. Mah Otis won't let anythin' happen t'yew or that there child,” soothed her thickly
accented voice, a pink nailed hand moving through my tangled, black hair. With everything going on, I'd
had little time to continue my grooming regime; to my extreme chagrin.
“Its not me I'm worried about,” I whispered, jumping slightly when I felt a firm grip encircle around my
upper arm.
Looking up, I saw a familiar frown looming over me; fury sparkling in icy orbs. Without a word, he was
yanking me toward him; drawing a startled yelp from me in the process. Biting my lips against protests, I
followed; bracing myself for the storm. I wasn't disappointed, Spaulding puffing up as soon as his dark eyes
landed on my huge stomach. “No! Fuck that Otis! I did not sign up for this!” snarled his gruff voice,
shattering the silence of the sweltering day. I could only heave a heavy sigh, looking up at Mama as she
hovered in the open doorway; a concerned look on her face. Allowing myself to really take her in, I saw
the normally bubbly woman was adorned in a wispy pink dress; her blonde hair a rat's nest of tangled
curls and hollow, black circles under her eyes. She looked like a woman haunted.
Ever since the planned ambush had been confirmed, the whole family had been in an upheaval to get
ready to leave. Before the fight with Otis, I had learned the plan from the harried matriarch. She, R.J.
and Tiny were going to head north. The clown, ghoul, Baby and I were going to the South, at least at first.
In the long run, we were eventually going to meet up at a secret location that had long ago been set up
for this very eventuality. It was only after things cooled down that they would dare to move again,
never to go back to their home for fear of a trap. Thankfully, Otis still had a house of his own to offer
them. It had been left to him by his parents as his birthright, one of the few useful things they had ever
done for him. Or so he had said.
It was the feeling of angry eyes on me that drew me out of my thoughts, my gaze going to the older man
in the yard. His furious orbs were fixed on my swollen womb, a sneer fixed on his brown face. My violent
lover was storming forward immediately, his hand palming his hunting knife as he made his way down
rickety stairs. His stringy, whitish blonde hair hung in his face, icy blue eyes glaring at Spaulding from
behind it. A snarl fixed itself on his stubble surrounded lips as he stomped towards the clown, stopping
when their noses were nearly touching. “We ain't got time fer this horse shit. We have t'git movin' now,”
the wraith hissed, every line in his body screaming of rage. The greasepaint covered male simply
narrowed his eye before huffing out of his nose irritably.
“Fine, pack up yer and Baby's stuff in th'van. Let th'piece of tail thar ride with R.J. and them. Cops aren't
really after them anyway boi,” Spaulding growled, unperturbed by Otis' outburst. This suggestion did not
go over well with the murderer.
Flaring his nostrils while his hands curled into shaking fists, the incensed wraith had to swallow a few
times before he was able to speak through his roiling fury. “How 'bout fuck you! I ain't leavin' her,” Otis
snarled, glaring heatedly into the other man's make-up smeared face. Every line of his lean body was
tense and twitching as he stood toe to toe with Mama's latest lover, ready to kill him if he dared to say
the wrong thing.
“Otis that's th'most goddamned stupid thang I've ever heard ya say! She's jest a piece of pussy boi! Th'brat
she carries isn't worth fucking dyin' fer! Either let her go with R.J. or leave her here but I ain't takin' no
pregnant lady on a goddamned run from th'law!” the poor excuse for a clown roared, his brow crinkled
into a heavy glare as he faced off with the enraged murderer before him.
All of a sudden, he was on the ground with Otis on top of him, a wickedly sharp hunting knife pressed into
the man's fat, brown neck. “I said, I ain't leavin' her,” the unpredictable male hissed in a deadly, quiet
voice, his eyes promising murder if this fight continued.
“O-okay boi, okay. Have it yer way,” Spaulding stuttered out in a nervous voice, his meaty hands raised in
a gesture of surrender. With a warning growl, the smaller man got off the clown and re-sheathed his
knife.
“Baby, go git Raven's stuff and pack it into th'van,” he called out, not taking his eyes off Spaulding as the
heavy set man struggled to his feet. Rubbing his neck where Otis held the knife as he staggered to his
feet, the old perv shot me a glare.
“Jest don' blame me when the little slut ends up gettin' us all killed,” he growled, glowering up at my
partner with rage filled, brown eyes as Baby began to load my bags into the van.
Watching this happen, I was filled with an urge to give one last ditch effort to get Otis to see to reason.
Surely, I could appeal to his more logical survival instinct. Still, his vehemence earlier made it all the
harder to speak out now. Taking a deep breath, I opened my mouth to get their attention; the sound of my
heart drowning out all other noise. “Can I say something?” I asked timidly, flinching slightly when
everyone turned their gaze to me. Rubbing a nervous hand over the dome of my stomach, I took a deep,
calming breath before continuing.
“I.. I agree with Spaulding. I should go with R.J. and the others. Not only will it be safer for you guys but
it'll be safer for me and the baby,” I announced in a nearly silent voice, not quite daring to look up; afraid
of the expression the wraith would have.
That didn't prevent me from being able to feel his anger on the air, however, a faint tingling on my skin
as I heard the sound of boots gritting on the packed sand. Within moments, I found myself in a shadow
and I had a pretty good idea of just whose it was. Gulping nervously, I craned my neck up to see Otis
glaring down at me with his ice blue eyes. A muscle ticked occasionally in his cheek and both his hands
were curled into tight, shaking fists. “Git in th'fucking van,” he hissed in a deadly voice, his expression
speaking volumes.
“B-but Otis, you know Spaulding is right! The police, especially Wydell, are after you guys in particular.
All that would happen if you brought me along is I would slow you down and make you more noticeable,”
I tried, echoing an argument I had tried earlier. I hoped against hope that the presence of his family
would hep him be able to see my point. Unfortunately, the dark look on his gaunt face was telling me
otherwise.
He almost looked insulted I had tried this a second time after he had given his final word. Leaning down
so his face was inches from mine, he gave me a glower that told me just how deeply in the shit I had
stepped. Had I been anyone else or had I not been pregnant, he would have punished me in the worst way
he could imagine. Every muscle in his lightly built body was twitching as he fought with his temper,
seeming closer to losing it than I had ever seen. At least directed toward me. He almost seemed like he
would go through with it anyway, taking violent breaths as his fists uncurled to twitch by his sides.
The only warning I got was a low snarl before I was simply picked up bridal style and carried bodily to
the van that waited for us. “Otis! Put me down! Lets try to think about this logically,” I pleaded, looking
up at the pissed monster holding me. The look he gave me in return made me shrink backwards as a small
whimper escaped me.
“Fuck logic!” he bit out, setting me down almost tenderly on a blanket spread on the floor in the back.
“Now isn't the time for this! For fuck's sake! You know this isn't smart!” I protested despite the obvious
danger, getting to my feet in an odd crouch and trying to move around his body as he blocked the
opening. His icy eyes flashed in warning, his love for me oddly clear in their angry depths.
“Sit the fuck down and stay there,” he hissed, his eyes narrowing slightly. Almost too quick to notice, his
eyes flicked to the swell of my stomach and his lips pursed tightly. For a few seconds, it was clear to me
that he was outright worried for me.
Yet, I was too frantic to really care. In spite of my fear, I was filled with a need to get him to listen. I
would be nothing but a liability if I came, a fact I had to make him see. If I couldn't, all my efforts would
be for naught. “Why the fuck are you so insistent about this? You know when I go into labor we'll be
trapped in a single location for hours, possibly with me making a lot of noise,” I tried in a last ditch
effort, sliding to my knees to placate the simmering murderer.
A derisive sneer came across his paper white face and his cold, anger filled eyes bored into me harshly.
Then he crouched and came into the back of the van, closing the doors behind himself. The last thing I
saw as the doors shut were Baby and Spaulding's bewildered faces. The anger poured off Otis in waves,
making the atmosphere in the small space quickly unbearable for me. Finding myself trapped in the back
of a van with an admittedly unpredictable murderer, I scooted away from him until my back hit the long
seat up front.
My lover's eyes flashed dangerously, a low growl escaping him as he stalked towards me in an odd bent
over posture due to the low ceiling of the van. As he came closer I had to fight the urge to flinch away
and show just how afraid of him I was. The only time I had ever seen the wraith so angry was when he
was about to kill some screaming bimbo. “If ya wanna know why I ain't 'bout t' let ya outta yer sight then
ya ain't as smart as I thought ya were. I'd have thought it'd be kinda obvious,” he hissed dangerously, his
face close enough to mine to kiss if the situation wasn't so perilous.
His sour breath hit me square in the nose, almost making me gag. It was then I became aware of a rough
hand resting on the crest of my huge stomach. His angry, ice blue eyes glowered down at me, making the
gentle motions of his hand quite contradictory. A small kick popped the tension like a bubble. A familiar
look of wonder ghosting across the ruthless monster's face, his focus immediately shifted to my gravid
womb.
The same look came across my own face as I rested an unsteady hand on my taut dome. While this wasn't
the first time I had felt the child kick, it was no less miraculous. As I watched in stunned silence, Otis
slid slowly to his knees and placed both hands on either side of my pregnant stomach. Then, with shocking
tenderness, the psychotic murderer rested a bearded cheek against the shirt covered swell. The child
inside immediately responded with a flurry of kicks, earning a small chuckle from the monster.
Then he straightened as best he could, fixing me with a furious glare. “I ain't leavin' ya with Mama and
R.J. 'cause neither of them knows how t'birth a child. Oh, Mama's had a slew of 'em but she's never
delivered someone else's,” he hissed, the angry aura returning with a vengeance and almost choking me
with its intensity. His tone told me the matter was closed but I had one last concern, one last card to
play. It was a dirty attempt but I found myself short of other avenues.
“Are you telling me that you, Spaulding and Baby know how to do it?” I quipped, my gaze still fixed on the
huge dome of my stomach. Inside, the child rolled and kicked for a few more seconds before stilling. With
how close I was to delivery, this flurry of activity had me more than a little nervous.
“Yes! Well, at least Baby and I do,” he responded heatedly, glaring at me intensely as he effectively
shattered the last argument I could use. His look was almost accusatory, as if he was blaming me for the
current situation.
His words made me think back to the specimen jars that held deformed babies. Each one of them had been
coddled by Mama, treated as if they were still alive; to my extreme horror. That, coupled with his
comments earlier filled my head with an unwanted image. An image of Otis between shuddering, cellulite
covered thighs as he screamed at her to push. Forcing the disturbing tableau to the back of my head, I
sighed and shook my head in surrender. “It's not as if I have choice,” I grumbled, not meeting his furious
gaze.
“Yer right! Ya don't,” he snarled before grasping my chin in a harsh grip and yanking my head to face him.
Before I could even open my mouth to protest, his lips met mine fiercely.
His tongue forced its way into my mouth as he lowered me onto the thick blanket on the van floor.
Growling into my mouth, the murderer forced my legs open with his knees so he could nestle himself
against my junction. Gasping as I felt his steel hard arousal press against me, I tried to squirm out from
under him; only to earn a harsh snarl as he yanked me back against him by the hips. Breaking the kiss
with a low growl, Otis nuzzled into the junction of my neck; pressing his throbbing member hard against
my clothed core.
I had a few moments to hope he would break the horrible dry spell he had imposed on us both before an
impatient pounding on the back doors broke the moment, drawing a hiss from the monster above me.
Giving me one last, burning look, Otis pulled himself off me, opened the doors and exited. As the wraith
closed the door, I sighed in relief as I allowed my head to tilt back into the couch-like chair in the front.
With his confession of love clear in my mind, it was really no surprise he was reacting so violently. Yet,
this felt like something else was happening.
I had never seen him act with such a lack of survival instinct or even care for what happened to the
family. It honestly confused me. Too exhausted to try to figure it out, I simply waited until they were
done packing; watching the doors for any of the three loading the van. Fortunately, it didn't take too
long before the back doors of the vehicle opened and Baby began to stuff bags in. The bubbly blonde smiled
kindly at me, her blue eyes sparkling with humor. “Boy, you should see Otis! I ain't never seen him so blue
balled in mah life,” she giggled, heaving up a heavy looking black duffel and plunking it down on the steel
floor of the van. Just hearing the words came close to making me laugh, my eyes rolling as I huffed
slightly.
“Its his own fault. He imposed some odd no sex thing a few months away from my due date. I have a
suspicion I know why he's doing it but that doesn't make it any less frustrating,” I complained, rubbing my
large womb as she loaded another duffel beside the first one. Still, I was honestly grateful for being
trapped in here. With how crabby Otis was, I honestly didn't want to see him while he was highly
sexually frustrated. It certainly didn't help that he had honestly seemed turned on by my pregnancy.
“What did he even do?” I asked, despite knowing full well what he was likely doing as we spoke.
“Oh, he barked a few orders before stormin' his way upstairs. We all know what he's doin' up thar,” she
tittered, confirming my suspicions by tipping me a rogueish wink as she heaved another heavy looking
duffel into the van.
Otis was masturbating. Despite expecting it, it still sounded weird. In the past months that I had gotten
to know the ghoul, he had extremely rarely pleasured himself. He seemed to prefer having the actual
thing, as I found out from many an experience with the murderer. Feeling a bit left out, I found myself
asking, “I wonder why he didn't just fuck me?” Then I clapped a hand over my mouth as a blush of utter
mortification spread over my cheeks. I knew the reason very well by now and it was currently growing
inside my womb.
Baby looked at me, her cerulean eyes blinking a couple times before she burst into uproarous laughter. As
the blonde clutched her stomach and laughed heartily, I found myself feeling more and more
embarrassed. Why on Earth had I said at out loud, of all things?! After a few moments, Baby's guffaws
faded into occasional giggles as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “Oh, I have no doubt he wanted ta but
he won't,” she chuckled as she heaved a camo duffel into the back, echoing my thoughts exactly.
“Yeah, I know. He's afraid to accidentally put me into premature labor. Doesn't mean I don't have means,” I
grumbled, the last part in a whisper so it wouldn't be heard.
The blonde murderess only rolled her brown eyes in response, a patient smile on her face as she continued
to pile duffel bags into the van. “Fer bein' so smart, ya sure c'n be clueless. He ain't oblivious to that. Soon
as that baby's born, yer fair game” she answered matter of factly, her eyes sparkling with a semi-
perverted glint as she hefted a huge, black bag and plunked it onto the steel floor. Just hearing it made
me shudder as goosebumps bloomed on my fair skin.
“I don't know if I can wait that long. I would even go for just sucking him off,” I confessed, figuring there
was no point in feeling embarrassed abut this. Baby seemed to know a lot about what was going on
between us, after all.
“Yeah, but we both know he won't leave it at thet. He ain't one fer thing like thet unless he c'n finish
th'job inside ya. Right now, he won't s'much as let ya touch him. He knows c'n be a bit rough during sex and
he doesn't wanna take th'risk of hurtin' ya or th'baby right now,” she informed with a knowing look.
“I know all too well. He's never once allowed me to get him off with oral. Makes me kind of skeptical he
can get off with masturbation,” I sighed, my eyes drifting to the window of our room. Baby only stared at
me, a small, pained smile on her young face.
“Baby, stop talkin' to that little cunt and go git yer brother, its time t'go,” Spaulding hissed, interrupting
her as she was opening her mouth to say something.
Coming up beside Baby, he glared at me with furious brown eyes as his upper lip pulled up in disgust. If he
had his way, it was clear I would be dead with my baby on the desert dirt. “Ya best stop callin' her that
stuff. Otis will have yer head if ya keep it up,” the youngest firefly snarled, frowning at the clown in
clear warning. Putting her body between me and her biological father, she placed a hand on the hunting
knife on her left hip just in case he tried anything.
“Ya well this.. girl is gonna git us all killed. Yer dumbass brother is too stupid t'realize she's got his nuts
inna bear trap!” the faded greasepaint wearing man hissed, reaching around her to slam the van doors
shut. This resulted in a muffled argument outside, leaving me to stare at where the light had been
moments before.
As I sat in the semi-darkness of the back of the van, I listened to the argument moving further away; my
heart ringing in my ears. This was really happening. I was going with Otis whether I liked it or not.
Already, several plans for escape were buzzing through my skull. The best I could hope for was that the
ghoul would lose interest as soon as I was out of his sight, something I highly doubted would happen. If
he loved me like he said he did, he would move Heaven and Hell just to be by my side during the birth.
Still, I couldn't just sit on my laurels and allow myself to be a threat. Births could take hours, meaning
we would be trapped in one location and horribly vulnerable. Not to mention the fact I would be making a
lot of noise. If I wanted to save them, I had to separate myself at the best opportunity and hope I could
get far enough away that my violent lover would give up
The doors slamming up front brought me out of my thoughts and I turned my gaze to the trio up front.
Baby was seated between her father and 'brother', likely in an attempt to keep the peace. An excited,
bubbly grin was on her young face as she bounced in place, ignoring the sour look on Otis' grizzled visage.
As for the clown, he was glaring at me through the rear-view, starting the van with a shuddering cough.
Sighing, I sat back down to face the doors. I would put what plan I had in action at the next stop.
Hours later we stopped in a ghost town, right in front of a dilapidated, rotting storefront. The trip had
been very quiet, the atmosphere in the van tense and heavy. It was almost like being in the middle of a
powder keg that could go off at any minute. Otis had been in an especially sour mood, the anger pouring
off him in waves as he sat in the front. So I had been very relieved when the van had stopped and the
trio had gotten out.
The two back doors of the van were slowly opened, causing me to squint at the sudden bright light. “C'mon
out and stretch yer legs!” Baby chirped, smiling at me as she flounced away. Shielding my eyes from the
unforgiving sun, I awkwardly hobbled out of the van until I was standing on the ground. With a low
moan, I placed my hands in the small of my back and leaned backward until I felt a small crack.
As if my small moan had summoned him, I suddenly found my strange partner right beside me; his ice blue
eyes roaming over my pregnant dome almost worriedly. Before I could even begin to open my mouth, his
hands came to rest on the swell of my stomach; feeling around gently. Then, as if satisfied, he gave me a
rage filled glare before he went back toward the front of the large vehicle. Blinking as I watched him
move away, it dawned on me he was checking to see if I was in labor. Feeling a stab of guilt in my heart, I
joined them at the front of the vehicle to get a better idea of what they were doing. If this was only a
short stop, there would be no point in me even trying.
To my relief, Otis and Spaulding were busy arguing over the map that was spread over the hood of the
van. Baby was standing at the corner of the street keeping an eye out for any approaching cars. No one
was paying attention to me. Being as quiet as I could, I wandered back towards the back of the van and
sat on the dead grass of the lawn to plan my escape route. Checking the road that extended behind the
van for traffic, I rubbed my taut dome for a few moments before spotting a handy alley between a couple
houses that wasn't too far away.
Glancing towards the front of the van, I could faintly hear Otis and Spaulding still arguing over which
route to take; sneaking away wouldn't be all that hard. So, with my heart beat in my breast, I made my
way to the small passage. I knew that if I went through this, the killer was unlikely to ever forgive me.
There was also the small problem of giving birth. While I knew the mechanics, I didn't think I would do
all that good at midwifing in practice. If anything went wrong, I was pretty much fucked.
Darting into the alley, I clutch a fist over my racing heart as I tried to catch my breath, edging my way
down the dark corridor. I could only hope that Otis didn't notice me running off and that he would take a
while to finish up arguing with Spaulding. I didn't want to think about what he would do to me for trying
to 'escape', pregnant or not. Thankfully, it wasn't a dead end; opening out into a series of broken fences and
leaning houses. So, keeping myself low, I made my way through the maze; my skin crawling for every
moment I wasn't hidden inside.

Dog will Hunt

Nearly an hour of weaving between buildings, peeking over rickety fences and feeling my heart jump in
my chest every time a shadow shifted. Nearly an hour and I had finally found a house that seemed to be
suitably far enough away from where I had left the family. Opening the rotted backdoor and wincing at
the ungodly creak it made, I made my way into the dusty house; stopping on the inside of the door to
allow my vision to adjust to the dimness.
Hulking, darkened forms of furniture surrounded me; making me reluctant to move even when my vision
had cleared. From the looks of it, this place had been abandoned for years. Many of the chairs and curio
cabinets were coated in dust and cobwebs. I could swear I even saw spiders scuttling across the rotted
wallpaper coating the crumbling walls. It made me dread going any further inside but I found myself
with little choice. Feeling my skin crawling, I made my way to what looked like the basement;
apprehensive about what I would find hiding down there.
Peering past the warping, broken door frame, I grimaced when I saw even worse stairs leading down to
what looked like a cluttered basement. All manner of shadowed, unidentifiable items filled the space not
really filling me with any sort of confidence. Placing my weight on the first heavily rotted step, I felt
my heart drop into my stomach when I heard a clear crack. Yet, the wood didn't give. It simply sagged
under my weight, warning me it wouldn't take much more abuse. Uttering a whispered curse, I wrapped a
hand around a splintered handrail and gingerly made my way down.
Each creak or groan of the aging wood made my heart pound as I made my way down, sheet wrapped
shadows making the fine hairs on my arms stand on end. If I had my way, I'd be out of here and looking
for a new place to hide. As it was, the best I could hope for was that my psychotic boyfriend wouldn't be
able to track me. With all his experience stalking women, his skill in tracking were a legitimate concern.
It was only the feeling of concrete under my shoe that reminded me that I had to worry about just
finding a place to hide. I couldn't waste time worrying about skills I wasn't sure he had.
Feeling my way around boxes as well as assorted junk, I found a cluster of boxes near the back of the
basement and behind where the stairs were. With a relieved sigh, I slid between them and the wall; just
grateful I could fit with my hugely pregnant belly. Sliding onto the cool concrete with a small noise, I
leaned my head against the brick wall behind me and rubbed my huge dome. “We'll have to wait here for a
while. If I know your father, he's already looking for me and very likely furious to boot,” I whispered,
smiling slightly as a wave of exhaustion washed over me. Yet, there was a feeling of sadness as well as
guilt. What I had done was more than a bit screwed up and would likely be seen as a betrayal. No matter
how good my reasons were.
In the inky blackness of the basement it was impossible to tell just how much time was passing. Every now
and again, I could feel myself begin to nod off; fighting off sleep with a firm shake of my head.
Unfortunately, I was so exhausted I must have dozed off without realizing it. Because the next thing I
knew, I was waking up with a jolt; my skin covered in a cold sweat while panicked eyes searched the
darkness surrounding me. Staring blindly, I slowly remembered just where I was and what my situation
was.
Just as I was wondering what had woken me up, I heard a very familiar male voice outside from far
away. Even with the distance, the sound of it was enough to make anxiety dump into my veins. It sounded
like Otis, screaming my name down the deserted streets like any concerned lover would. The only
difference was, he sounded downright furious. Hunching further into my safe corner, I prayed to any God
that was listening that it had just been luck that had led him this far. If it wasn't, I was well and truly
boned. Unfortunately all my hopes were shattered when I heard a call from much closer, as if he was
running. “Great. He can fucking track. Somehow, this doesn't surprise me,” I grumbled to myself, beginning
to look around for any better spot to hide. While I knew it was a useless gesture, I couldn't give in that
easily. Even with how scared I was of him, it was more in my nature to be a bit stubborn. Besides, his love
for me had given me more than a bit of bravado.
“Raven! You git yer ass back here right th'fuck now! This's gone on long enough!” roared a voice that
sounded like it had come from right next to the window on the far end of the basement, making my skin
prickle with anxiety.
My hazel eyes went wide with fear, both hands going protectively to my gravid womb as I let out a quiet
whimper. Barely aware I was holding my breath, I stared into the wall of blackness ahead of me;
desperately hoping he wouldn't decide to check this house but knowing better. Sure enough, a muffled
pounding noise came from above as he swore vividly. “Goddammit woman. I ain't givin' up til I find ya,” he
hissed to himself, his voice coming through the tiny, faraway window. Then I heard footsteps crunching
on grass as he moved to the front of the building.
“Raven! I know you're in thar, git out here now and it won't be nearly s'bad!” he hollered, his voice holding
a slightly desperate edge despite his obvious fury as he walked.
My eyes widened as I heard a door open upstairs, heart leaping into my throat while my survival
instinct kicked into full gear. Beginning to shake slightly, I continued my earlier search for anywhere
better that I could hide. To my right, I could barely make out a well hidden door that was carefully
decorated to look like part of the wall. The only reason I spotted it was it was very slightly open,
revealing a small bump in the smoothness of the structure.
Deciding to take a chance, I crawled as quietly as I could to the small opening; wincing at every small
scrape my shoes made on the floor. Opening the tiny, very well hidden door, I slipped inside and shut it
behind me. “Fuckin'. . Raven! I tracked ya all th'way here, so ya best fuckin' answer me and I mean now!”
came a male roar from upstairs, making me freeze in place inside my man-made cave. If he caught me,
there was no doubt there would be some severe punishment in store for me once the baby was born.
Trying desperately not to whimper, or breathe too loudly, I huddled into the furthest corner from the
door; praying he wouldn't be able to find me. Hands rubbing my taut stomach fitfully, I grimaced when
the child inside gave my palms a series of kicks. Footsteps upstairs made my heart leap in my chest, the
sound of doors being slammed open only heightening the terror I felt. “Fuckin' dumb bitch! What th'fuck
happens when ya go into fuckin' labor! Ya think I'd let ya have my child without me bein' thar!” I heard
him snarl faintly, almost as if he was saying it more to himself.
To my only slight relief, the footsteps moved up a level instead of closer to where I was; giving me the
faintest hope. As I faintly heard him stomping around on the upper level, I found myself a bit stunned by
his tenacity. While I didn't doubt his affection for me, I was surprised by the fact he was so vehement
about finding me. Especially when it came to ignoring the safety of him or his adopted family. Before
tonight, I would have thought he'd choose them over me every time. To find out otherwise was a massive
shock to the system.
Until recently, the only reason Otis would have hunted me down if I ran would be to kill me. In fact he
wouldn't have wasted much time searching for me if he couldn't find me. I expected him to have given up
a long time ago; giving me up for dead while he moved to a different area. Boot steps moving towards the
basement jolted me out of my thoughts and I stared at where I thought the closed door of the room was.
“Raven.. please fuckin' answer me,” he whispered to himself as he opened the door and made his way down,
the sound of creaking steps making my heart pound despite my building guilt.
His voice sounded more worried now, trading anger for sounding vaguely broken and lost. “RAVEN!
Fuckin' shit!” he roared, sound almost unsure as I heard a thudding noise just above the room I was in.
Coming to the conclusion he had punched the wall, I held my breath as I heard his boots make contact
with the concrete. If I stayed quiet, there was a good chance he may think his skills had betrayed him
and leave. I didn't care what this would mean for when it came time to gave birth, just as long as the
family I had come to love as my own was safe.
“Goddammit Raven! God fuckin' dammit! Raven you fuckin' answer me!” he screamed, his voice sounding as
if he was crying under the fury he was trying to project.
Just hearing it made my heart curl into a tight ball within my chest and squeeze painfully. The only
reason why I was doing this was my love for this man, not to torture him. From the sounds of it, as
strange as it was, he was unlikely to stop looking for me until I was safely by his side. “Oh fffuck! I just.. I
need t'know yer okay,” he gasped out brokenly in a whisper, obviously meant to only be heard by himself.
Making this the first time I had ever heard him so vulnerable. Just the thought of what he would do to
me for this alone, coupled with what I was owed for my actions so far, only added to my very good
reasons for not speaking out.
“What if she cain't fuckin' answer me because she's in fuckin' labor,” he snarled to himself, sounding as if
he was pacing the basement. Likely, he was looking for any sign he could follow so he could figure out
where I was hiding. My only hope was that it would be too dark for him to see anything.
“Otis! Wydell's comin'!” Baby bawled from upstairs, her words making my heart halt in my chest. 'Please,
please just go upstairs,' I prayed silently, knowing he would do no such thing.
“Run if ya need ta! I ain't leaving this town til I find Raven or I'm dead!” he replied heatedly, his voice
moving closer to where I was currently hiding; effectively shattering both my hopes in one bow. Pressing
against the wall, I didn't dare breathe as my eyes fixed on where I was sure the door was in the inky
darkness.
Despite my deep terror, some part of me really wanted to alert him to my position. An urge that was so
strong that I had to bite my lower lip to keep from making any noise. Yet, my determination was fading
more the longer this went on. In all honesty, like most other women expecting a baby, I just wanted to be
with the father for his support. No matter how violent he was. “Raven.. I need t'find ya. I need to. Fuck..
what if yer hurt or ya need help. Din't ya fucking think? Yer fucking pregnant Raven. Why did I let ya
outta my fuckin' sight,” rasped a mid-tone from right outside the hidden door, making my blood shudder in
my veins despite how horrible I felt about causing him this amount of pain.
I had heard him during many weak moments, moments I had never been meant to hear. Heap this on top
of the fact that I had run and hidden from him, refusing to obey direct orders when he gave them. All
behaviors I had never dared to exhibit before now. My poor heart was fairly beating against my ribs,
forcing me to open my mouth in an attempt to catch my breath. Instead, what came out made my entire
reality come to a grinding halt. It was just the faintest whisper of his name. But, given his proximity as
well as his desperation, it would be more than enough to tip him off to my hiding place.
All movement halted outside, even Otis' breathing briefly stopping as he seemed to be listening. “Raven?
Fuck, was that you?” came a gruff, almost hopeful sounding yet ferocious voice. It felt as if my heart
froze in my chest as complete and absolute horror flooded my system.
“Raven? If that was you, come on out,” hissed his dangerous tone, sounding a lot closer to the door than
before. His voice held absolute fury but there was worry and relief threaded inside the gruffness.
I could only swallow dryly as I heard the sound of calluses scratching lightly over the wood of the door.
Feeling an odd tightness forming in my back, I shifted slightly to get more comfortable as dread washed
over me. 'Not now. Not now. Oh Lord not now!' I thought to myself frantically as the dim pain in my back
evolved into a band of pressure around my waist. “Shit,” I hissed, rubbing my now rock hard stomach,
forgetting about the fact that I was being stalked at the moment. Next thing I knew, I heard the sound of
something ramming into the door.
“Yer in a lot of trouble lil girl,” growled a vicious voice that chilled my blood as a heavy body slammed
into the door again.
I could only watch in horror as bits of the door flew off into the darkness of the small room. Huddling
into my corner and curling protectively around my still contracting belly, I tried to stay as still as I
could; not even breathing. With one loud bang, the door flew open and I heard the grit of his boots on the
dirt covering the floor. Still cowering, I found my head turning towards him slowly; my eyes wide and
probably full of terror as I expecting him to just come bursting in. The stillness I got instead was far
more horrifying, my eyes straining to make out any movement.
Then, with the slowness of a movie monster, I could make out the very dim shape of Otis moving into the
room. His head slowly turned as he seemed to be scanning the room for any sign of me, making my anxiety
spike while the pain slowly ebbed away. “Make it easier on yerself and git yer ass over here,” rasped his
guttural voice while he looking around blindly. Deciding to take a chance and rush the door since my
contraction was gone, I carefully crawled my way toward the opening that was just barely visible in the
darkness; determined to make one last attempt.
Heart pounding in my chest while I came tantalizingly close to reaching the basement and freedom, I felt
steel like arms wrap around my upper body and yank me backwards. Trembling slightly slightly as they
held me tight against a lithe body, one of his hands roamed down to move over my stomach. “You goddamn
idiot! What th'fuck did ya think ya were doin'?!” snarled a heated mid-tone into my ear, the hand probing
my domed womb gently; as if feeling for something. Whimpering, I didn't dare to attempt to pull away;
deathly afraid of what he would do if I attempted to run.
“Otis, I'm sorry but I have to leave! Its fucking dangerous to have me around!” poured out of me in an
attempt to appeal to his more logical side, trying to squirm free of his iron grip. I left out the part that I
had a strong suspicion that I was now in labor. I had a feeling that if I told him that, he would force
everyone to stay here until the baby was born. With Wydell hot on our heels, I couldn't take that
chance. Especially given what Baby had said just moments before.
“I don't give a fuck 'bout any of that!” roared the murderer before he was picking me up bridal style and
simply carrying me up the stairs. Just outside the basement door stood a very worried looking Baby, her
blue eyes wide as they looked from side to side. She almost resembled a hounded rabbit preparing to run,
filling me with the ill-advised urge to laugh.
“Wydell drove right by not too long ago but Spaulding hid the van in the back. I don't think he saw
anything,” whispered out of the petrified woman while she glanced at the door.
“Gewd. Go tell thet worthless clown t'pull th'van 'round front. I'll be out inna minute,” ordered his gruff
voice, holding no room for argument. Knowing we were running out of time but nervous for all new
reasons, I squirmed to be free of his arms. If I had a contraction now, we were all toast and I would have
caused exactly what I had been trying to avoid.
To my surprise, Otis set me on my feet; only to grasp my chin in a hard grip and force me to look up at
him. The almost albino beast glowered down at me, rage, relief and even love swirling in his icy orbs.
“Don't move,” rasped out of him, his face hovering just inches from mine. Cold, deadly eyes locked with
mine as the hand that wasn't holding my chin moved to probe my stomach again, filling me with a sense of
dread. It was like he was assuring himself of something and I had a fairly good idea of what that was.
Knowing the ghoul the way I did, he was likely checking to see if I was having contractions.
“Thank Satan for small favors,” snarled out of him as he removed his hand from my stomach to grip my
shoulder, seemingly feeling nothing. It was a hard fight to keep the relief I felt off my face.
“Are ya hurt?” the beast continued, his voice holding a tinge of concern under the fury as he glowered
down at me.
“N-no,” I managed to stammer out, not daring to take my eyes off his as I didn't want to dig my hole any
deeper than I already had.
“Good! Cause with that kinda dumbassery ya coulda very well broken yer goddamn ankle! Then, not only
would ya have been pregnant but also a fuckin' invalid! Jesus, maggoty Christ Raven! Did you honestly
think I would just let ya disappear with my kid!” roared out of him as his grip on my shoulder tightened,
making me grimace slightly in discomfort.
“Otis, you have to try to see it from my point of view. I put myself through absolute hell to save you and
the family. Do you honestly think I want to be the one that ends up getting you killed? I promise I'll
come back after things settle, you just have to let me go,” came out of me in a vain hope I could just get
him to listen to me, ignoring a familiar tightness beginning to form in my lower back. Unfortunately, it
was just as effective as all the other times I had tried this.
Frowning deeper in response before removing his hand from my shoulder, the murderer was placing it on
my lower back and yanking me hard against him. “You numb bitch! Don't ya fuckin' get it?! I want t'fucking
be around fer th'birth of my child!” hissed his unsteady but firm mid-tone, his hands shaking slightly on
my back as he rested his chin on the top of my head. I could only let out a sigh in response, finally giving
up the fight as lost. Besides, we didn't have the time to keep arguing about this, we had to keep moving.
Suddenly, with a viciousness that rattled my bones, he was yanking me away from him; burning eyes
meeting mine as every muscle in his body went tense. “When ya go into labor, ya tell me immediately. Ya
understand?!” rasped a harsh demand, his hands twitching on my arms as his jaw ticked. Guilt immediately
shot through me in a brief, powerful wave and I found it hard to meet his eyes. I had already almost
gotten them caught due to Otis simply being unwilling to leave without me. I couldn't take the risk and
follow his orders. No matter how angry he got or how guilty I felt, it was more important we run while
we could. Unfortunately the pain increased past slight discomfort, making me briefly wince.
“Ya said ya weren't hurt,” snarled his furious voice as he watched my face closely, his hand starting to
head towards my currently contracting stomach.
“It was just a random back twinge. I'm perfectly fine,” I lied, feeling my guilt increase slightly. The
wraith merely narrowed his eyes before picking me up bridal style, the contact against his body leaving
me a bit breathless despite the stressful situation we were currently involved in.
“Is this going to become a normal thing for you?” grumbled out of me in a playfully exasperated tone as he
carted me out to the van. The wraith only glared at me from the corner of his eyes in response, jaw still
tense. Despite my attitude, I was honestly glad he was carrying me. With the pain and pressure rising
rapidly, I doubt I would have been able to walk right. Not to mention the fact, despite wanting to get
away from him, some part of me had honestly been afraid to be separated. Getting so close to escaping and
probably never seeing him again had left me horribly unsettled.
“I'm gonna travel in th'back of th'van wi' ya. I don't trust you not t'do anythin' stupid,” growled from
above me, drawing my attention back to the violent male cradling me. It was all I could do not to gape at
him in horror as the contraction finally ebbed, my heart plummeting into the pit of my stomach. If he
traveled in the back with me, it would only be a matter of time before he noticed something was wrong.
Yet, if I protested, that would only make him more suspicious. I could only sigh softly as he placed me
carefully down on the blanket in the back of the vehicle and crawled in beside me.
“I still don' understand why we couldn'ta just left the bitch,” Spaulding groused from the front, turning
his head to glare at me and reminding me rather vividly of his vile existence. Otis narrowed his eyes at
the old clown as he settled in beside me while I glared up at the old cuss. Still, some part of me still
agreed with him; as much as the cutting words hurt. I was nothing but a liability and there was nothing I
could do to mitigate the damage I was causing.
“Jest git th'fuck outta here,” snarled the man beside me, snaking an arm around my shoulders to keep me
close to him.
After everything I had put him through, I couldn't help but be surprised at the affectionate touch.
Looking up at him while he tightened his grip slightly on my shoulder, I felt my breath catch in my
throat when he turned to glower down at me. Under the rage, there was relief as well as a little fear. It
was almost as if he wanted to reassure himself that I was really there, only making the sick feeling in
the pit of my stomach get much worse. Pulling at me roughly until my head rested on his bony shoulder,
the murderer rested his cheek on the top of my head as the engine of the van came to life and we began
to move.
As the large vehicle moved steadily into the night, I found it harder to hide my discomfort as the
contractions began to worsen over time. It certainly didn't help that Otis was watching me like a hawk,
sharp eyes fixed on my form. Every small movement or noise caused him to tense and nearly touch my
stomach at the worst times. Right now, I was in the grip of a particularly strong pain and it was all I
could do to not whimper or squirm as the pressure grew more intense. Letting a slow breath out through
my nose, I dared to look up at Otis.
The almost albino man was glaring down at me, his icy eyes almost seeming to study me as I felt the
saliva leave my mouth. Growling softly, he placed a gruff hand on my now rock hard stomach; shoulders
tensing as he shot me an accusing, betrayed glare. “Jest how long were ya hopin' t'keep this from me?”
hissed his deadly quiet voice, disappointment and anger burning in his ice blue eyes as his palm spread
over the tight skin of my belly. Wincing, I avoided his gaze as I fished around for my admittedly petty
reasons.

Complications
Author's Note: Coming up on the end of our sordid tale. Expect a few more twists. We're not done yet.

Chapter Twenty-Six: Complications

Unfortunately, I couldn't even get a word out as another contraction began to crest. Sneering, the
wraith rubbed the hand on my shoulder in a soothing manner. “Stupid bitch. I was aware you were in
labor from th'first contraction you had around me. What were you hopin' t'gain from hidin' it?” he
snarled quietly, his tone softening just slightly.
“D-didn't wanna s-stop until we had to,” I grunted out as best as I could, avoiding his fiery gaze as I
leaned into his warm body. As guilty as I felt, I had no idea how he would have reacted to the news. For
all I knew, he would have stopped the van in the middle of the street as soon as he had noticed.
“And who sez I woulda? I have more sense than that. I jest wanted t'be able to time yer contractions so I
knew when we had t'stop,” snarled out of him as he gingerly picked me up to position me between his
spread legs. Calloused hands coming to rest on the crest of my contracting dome, he rested his chin on the
crown of my head.
Having no answer, I instinctually leaned back into him and rested my hands beside his on my pregnant
stomach. “They're pretty close together,” I finally confessed breathlessly, my heart thudding due to my
current position. It had been a while since he had touched me in any sort of affectionate manner. It
honestly felt nice, not to mention how addictive his scent was. Just having him so close was making me a
bit flustered despite our situation.
“I know,” rasped a gruff purr in my ear, a slightly worried tinge to his voice while one of his hands began
to gently press on parts of my stomach. When it lingered on one spot in particular, near the top of my
dome, I began to worry.
“Is something wrong?” whispered out of me as I fought to keep my breathing steady, the contraction
slowly ebbed.
“We'll see,” came a cryptic response that only made me more paranoid, his palm resting on a spot just
under my ribs.
“What's going on?” I insisted, my panic only getting worse because of his silence. Normally, he wasn't one
to mince words or care about feelings. The fact that he was hesitant made me worried as all Hell.
“The head's still facin' up,” came a shockingly gentle response, his own concern clear.
“Oh god…,” groaned my voice, my eyes sliding shut while my heart began to thud. A breech birth without
even a midwife, it was highly unlikely me or the child would survive. Tears began to fill my vision as my
hands began to tremble on my domed stomach. A sudden, sharp shake brought me slamming back to myself
and I looked up at Otis.
His whitish hair hung in a curtain around our faces and he rested his paper white forehead against mine.
Ice blue eyes locking with my hazel ones, he glared down at me. Determination as well as fear swirled in
the icy orbs while he reached up with a hand to cup my cheek. Just because it had been so long, I jolted
away out of shock; earning a gruff snarl from the ghoul. “S-sorry Otis. You just kind of surprised me,” I
tried to explain, doing my best to ignore the shyness welling up inside me. This was Otis, a man I had done
unimaginable things with. There was literally nothing left to be shy or embarrassed about. He had long
ago ripped that away from me.
“Ye'll be fine,” hissed his midtone, his frown softening slightly as he brushed my cheek with his thumb.
I leaned into the contact, sighing while I reflected on all we had been through together. With every
thing that had happened, it was hard to see this killer as the same person. Was this really the same Otis I
had spent nearly a year around? The same Otis who had callously killed and tortured teenage girls? The
same Otis who didn't care for my pleasure during most of our relationship and only wanted to achieve his
own when we had sex? The same Otis who hadn't seemed to enjoy any sort of affection not too long ago?
Looking up at him and seeing his trademark glower, I found that he was exactly the same. The only
difference was that he actually seemed to love me, something I hadn't thought him capable of at the
start of all of this.
The feeling of another contraction snapped me back to reality and I tore my gaze away from his to focus
on my stomach. Breathing slowly and doing my best not to tense, I rubbed small circles on the taut skin of
my gravid dome. To my wonder, Otis' own rough hands came to join mine. A light blush colored my cheeks
as the murderer almost seemed to be trying to ease the pain while the contraction gradually got worse.
A moan left my lips as it began to crest while I began to sway my hips back and forth. I could feel an
incredible pressure beginning to build up within, a deep fear filling me at what it signified.
Making a gruff, concerned sounding noise, calloused hands spread out over my taut dome before he was
turning to glare at the clown driving. “Spaulding, stop at the next house along here,” came a demand, lips
briefly brushing the top of my head. It was then I realized he had the same idea I did, only adding to the
apprehension currently filling me.
“What th'ever lovin' fuck fer?! All that's out here is some rickety ass farm houses,” came the predictable,
pissed off response that made my self hatred come back full force. I was well aware just how much of a
risk I was, I didn't need to be reminded of it by Spaulding.
“That'll be jest fine. Jest do what I say and stop at th'next one, ya hear,” growled the wraith, his voice
beginning to gain a slightly dangerous edge; his arms going stiff around me.
“I ain't gonna stop unless there's a damn good reason boi,” the old perv snapped, his voice tinged with rage
and defiance.
“We're about t'have a baby here so, unless ya wanna wear yer intestines as suspenders, I suggest ya do
what I say,” the wraith hissed, one of his hands leaving my still contracting stomach to palm the handle
of his hunting knife.
“Gewd 'nough reason fer me,” he conceded sourly, slowing down and pulling the van over.
It was all I could do not to scream as the contraction turned into sheer agony. Making small, pained
noises, I shifted against the murderer behind me in an effort to get more comfortable. Otis merely felt
my rock hard stomach with gentle hands, making small sounds while his hands moved over the taut skin.
“He's not turnin',” came a warning, his hand resting on the same spot just under my ribs.
“Mmmmnnn,” I whimpered, worry mixing with the pain as I cradled my gravid dome with both hands. All
too soon the vehicle came to a stop, both Baby and Spaulding getting out at the same time. I was far too
busy trying to keep from screaming to even notice, even when they opened the doors to the back of the
van.
“Aw shit,” Spaulding spat venomously, kicking a clod of dirt in anger when he took in the sight of me.
Stiffening behind me, Otis kept me in a protective hold while I squirmed against him.
“It'll be any time now Baby. Get that asshole somewhere useful and far away from me. I'll move her to
th'house once th'contraction's done. Meet us inside,” he instructed in a gruff, angry voice, just a hint of
fear hidden under the furious tone. The blonde only nodded in understanding before grabbing Captain
Spaulding's brown, well muscled arm and firmly dragging him away.
Clutching at my lover desperately, I bit my lip in an effort to keep from screaming while sweat sprung up
on my brow. Suddenly my hand was gripped in a tight hold, a bearded cheek rested on my right temple as
sour breath filed my nostrils. “Keep breathin' and try t'relax through it,” came gentle advice, his fingers
flexing around my palm. Whimpering softly, I held the appendage in as tight a grip as I could manage; not
really caring if I was hurting my beloved at the moment.
The pain seemed to stretch into an eternity, turning into unbearable pressure within my womb. Finally,
to my relief, the wave began to recede and I found myself able to breathe normally. Even Otis seemed
relieved, his hand lingering on my still quivering stomach. “Do ya think ya c'n move?” he husked out
quietly, his gruff voice holding an odd, urgent edge.
“I think so,” husked a voice that didn't sound like my own while I tried to soothe my shuddering belly. The
wraith behind me nodded before carefully removing himself from behind me to get to his feet. Turning
slowly, he carefully helped pull me to my feet. Cradling my huge stomach as if it was made of glass, I
cautiously waddled towards the end of the van before eyeing the slight drop that greeted me.
“Wait fer me t'hop down first,” hissed a demand in my ear, a callused hand gripping my shoulder tightly;
almost as if trying to stop me from hopping out on my own. Nodded in response, I moved to one side to
make room for him to slip past me. With how violent the pains were getting, I knew we didn't have much
time left.
Fixing me with an odd look before hopping down, Otis simply scooped me into his arms. The next thing I
knew, he was running into a dilapidated house; barely giving me enough time to get a grip around his
neck. Kicking the door open dramatically, the murderer skidded into the house; only stopping briefly to
assess our surroundings. Once he assured himself of the emptiness of the house, the wraith ran into the
nearest bedroom, shuttting the door behind him. Carefully setting me on my feet, he began to shake the
dust out of the sheets that covered the ancient bed. “It ain't ideal but it'll do,” he hissed, watching me
closely while he remade the bed.
Watching him, I couldn't help but feel a bit touched that he was this nervous. Otis was almost acting like
any other expectant father, overly worried and very protective. Then a contraction began to crash over
me and it was all I could do not to slip to my knees from the agony as well as pressure. In a blink, my
lover was there; supporting my weight easily while he helped me ride the intense wave. A quiet moan
left me as the pain peaked and I leaned heavily on the murderer holding me up. Whimpering quietly, I
burrowed into his neck to allow his scent to soothe me.
When he began to make calming noises while kissing my neck, I leaned into the touch with a grateful
sound. Letting out a gruff noise of his own, he tried to help comfort the baby inside me; his hand joining
mine. Groaning, I leaned back into him; practically hiding in the crook of his neck. His white flesh was
surprisingly cold against my own, giving me some measure of relief. Huffing softly through my nose, I
wiggling my hips as the pressure increased to unbearable levels. It wouldn't be much longer and it was all
I could do to remain calm.
A sudden splash filled the room as I felt a veritable torrent of fluid leaving my womanhood, chilling my
blood in my veins. Hissing behind me, Otis moved his hand to undo the button on my pants; sliding them
down. Next came my underwear, one of his hands lingering on my still leaking slit. “I need ta cheek how
far along ya are,” growled in my ear, worry buried deep under the gruff tone. Nodding my consent, I
squatted and spread my legs slightly to assist him. His muscles tensed under his white skin while he
followed me to the floor, still holding my weight on his shoulders.
As soon as I was situated, a calloused index finger slowly slid into my still dripping entrance; feeling
around briefly before he pulled it free. “Only a few centimeters,” he growled, more worry tinging his
gruff voice while he helped me to my feet. Whimpering in response, I continued to rub my belly as I
leaned against him. A soft knock interrupted us and Otis whipped his head up to glare at whoever was at
the door.
“Jest me,” Baby whispered, holding her empty hands up in surrender while she stood in the doorway.
“And the clown?” snarled the beast holding me, his posture feeling very protective as he practically
caged me in his arms as best he could.
“Out front, watching for Wydell,” she answered, standing perfectly still, continuing to hold her hands up.
“Go see what's layin' around and try t'get shit ready. Her water's broken and we're lookin' at a breach
here,” came a curt command, his attention going back to me. A low moan escaped my lips as a contraction
began to wash over me, an incredible amount of pressure beginning to move into my pelvis. Otis tensed
beside me, taking all of my weight while I sunk into a semi-squat and tried to breathe through the agony.
Thankfully Baby didn't wait around for further instructions, sprinting out of the room as soon as the
killer had finished talking.
“Hang on t'me and breathe,” rasped in my ear, icy eyes resting on my stomach with an almost worried
gaze. It was all I could do to just nod in response, ragged pants leaving me as the contraction began to
reach an all new level of agony. Whimpering slightly, I wiggled my hips back and forth in an effort to
relieve the now nearly unbearable pressure in my pelvis.
Then Baby was back, setting a small pile of towels on the floor near Otis and I while I continued to fight
through the pain. “I got some water boilin' and I'm sterilizin' some scissors as well as twine,” she
whispered, looking up at me with concern.
“Leave us alone til I tell ya I need ya,” growled the vicious male, the tiniest bit of fear tinging his furious
voice as he glared at his sister.
Giving a reluctant nod, she left the room; giving a final glance while the door swung shut. Looking up at
my lover while I gripped his shoulder with my hand, I fought against my urge to question his decision.
With the expression on his face, it wasn't advisable to push the killer much further. Then a wave of pain
and pressure was washing over me, effectively refocusing me on what was about to happen. Fighting back
the panic bubbling just beneath the surface, I met the killer's eyes while I tried to keep my breathing
steady. “How much longer do you think it'll be?” gasped out of me, my thighs shuddering as I clung to my
sanity by the barest thread.
Not only was I terrified but I was feeling pressured to get through this as fast as I could. We were
sitting ducks and the longer we sat here, the higher the chances of Wydell and his goons finding us. I was
not encouraged when I saw a grim look on the beast's gaunt visage. “It'll be a few hours. Breachs ain't
easy on either mother or child. I jest hope ya c'n make it through it,” he murmured, rubbing my
contracting belly with the hand he had used to check me.
“Great… Can I… can I sit down?” I asked tentatively, feeling some measure of relief when he nodded.
Then he was leading me to the bed, helping me sit before he was lowering himself so he was between my
legs.
Prodding carefully, he spread my swollen labia before feeling around my opening. Despite my discomfort,
his touch caused a faint prickle of desire to ripple through me. Moaning quietly, I leaned into his fingers.
“Heh, easy thar lil girl. We got work t'do afore we can have our fun,” admonished the ghoul, a playful tone
to his harsh voice. I could only smile shyly, gritting my teeth against a scream when I felt something
drop into my hips. This child was coming and all I could do was help it along as best as I could. Still, I was
utterly terrified.
“Yer almost there. Yer doin' real good babe. I can 'magine jest how much pain yer in,” came a soothing purr
that made me melt just a bit on the inside. To see this violent man acting so lovingly spoke of how deep
his feelings ran. Seeing me in pain like this must be tearing him apart inside.
Meeting his eyes with mine, I felt my heart skip a beat when I saw a swirl of emotions in their normally
cold depths. Straightening slightly, the wraith took my face in his callused hands; resting his forehead
against mine while maintaining eye contact. “Yer gonna be alright, I promise ya,” hissed out him, broad
shoulders shuddering. I could only nod, gritting my teeth as yet another contraction overcame me.
“Breathe in slowly through your nose,” encouraged a voice from a fair distance away while something
began to move down inside me.
Struggling to do as the wraith ordered, I used the feeling of his fingers returning to my entrance as a
distraction. “Alright, alright then. Next contraction, I'mma help ya t'yer feet and yer gonna start t'push,”
husked a declaration that made dread pool in my belly. Taking in a deep breath, I simply nodded;
inwardly bracing for what was to come. While I had only heard stories about how rough things could be,
I could already tell they weren't exaggerations. Just the pain now was excruciating. I hadn't even gotten
to the hard part. The part all mothers recounted as being the most agonizing. Pushing out the head
backwards. Just thinking about it was enough to almost make me consider begging for death. Almost. As
it was, all I could do was breathe while the latest pain slowly ebbed away.
Meeting Otis' eyes with mine, I took comfort in his stern glance. I had every confidence he would do what
he could to make sure he got me through this safely. The baby, on the other hand, was another matter
entirely. What he had said earlier made me aware of the fact that, if it came down to my life or the
baby's, he would choose mine. With how much I knew he cared for me, I was well aware of the fact he
wouldn't listen to any protests. After all, in his eyes, we could always make another one if we really
wanted to. Not really finding myself in a position to argue, I reached out my hand to the murderer while
another pain began.
Hours passed while not seeming to go by at all. Pace, squat, push and listen to a voice rumble empty
encouragements. I could feel the baby sitting just inside me, stubbornly staying where it was despite my
best efforts. Burrowing my fingers hard into a broad shoulder, I hissed a stream of curses while I pushed
with all I had. Just as I was beginning to fear nothing would happen, I felt something begin to slide.
Whimpering while my upper thighs shuddered, I gritted my teeth; straining even as my face turned an
alarming shade of red. Finally, I felt something come and gave a sob of relief. “Hang on now. Lemme git an
idea of what's goin' on here,” hissed a raspy command while callused hands cradled what had come free.
“Alright, cord's not round his neck. Lean on this wall here while I git Baby. We'll need th'help in a
moment,” the voice continued, settling somewhere in my bones while my hands were placed on cracked,
aging wallpaper. Then I was left alone, barely aware of what the people behind me were saying when
another contraction crashed into me.
Letting out a primal noise, I was dipping into a squat; pushing despite the intense stretching feeling in my
nethers. Vaguely aware of a quiet curse, I found myself supported once more while unfamiliar hands
supported the infant. “Almost thar hun. Yer doin' so gewd. 'm proud'a ya,” rumbled a mid-tone in my ear as
a female encouraged me from between my legs. Leaning into the warmth beside me, I let out a shaky
breathe; the latest wave finally fading. I could sense it wouldn't be much longer but the hard part was
yet to come. The head and shoulders were still trapped inside my quivering passage.
All too soon, I was straining yet again; red filling my vision as the burning became something much more
intense. It was hard just to keep going, knowing time was of the essence. If I couldn't deliver this child
soon, there was a good chance it would be dead. An occurrence that would utterly gut me, especially
after how much agony I had been through already. Still, it was all I could do not to scream when the
baby's shoulders slid free; possibly tearing something. Biting into Otis' neck to keep from making any noise,
I huffed through my nose until the nearly blinding pain lessened.
Releasing the bleeding skin in my mouth, I gasped an apology before I was pushing. Feeling a roughened
palm stroke my sweaty forehead, I tried to focus on his voice even as I felt the head begin to come. I
could hear the female telling me it was coming, the fear in her voice making my heart sink. From the feel
of it, I was losing a lot of blood yet I could afford to stop now. Not when I was so close. So I pushed,
feeling the head finally come free while I slumped backwards from pain as well as exhaustion. “Its a boy,”
declared a voice from so very far away while I found myself laid to the carpet.
“Gotta sew her up. Losin' s'much blood,” hissed a sickened, male voice before pain pierced me and I simply
passed out.
Floating in a comfortable darkness, I felt no pain or fear. I felt oddly safe, comfortable. Yet, there was a
voice in the distance. A familiar person calling my name. Swimming upward through the inky nothing, I
made my way to that voice; feeling more excited the closer I got. “Look! She's finally waking up!”
exclaimed the voice that had drawn me, my eyes fluttering open to take in blurred figures over me.
Groaning, I turned my head away from the harsh lights above me; something about the medicinal smell of
this place being very familiar.
“Easy Raven. You're alright now,” soothed a strange, but comforting male voice while my vision gradually
cleared.
Licking my cracked lips, I took in the sight of my worried, bewildered mother. “Oh honey… You've been
missing for so long that we almost gave up. Then you appear in your room like nothing happened. Except
for some… very disturbing injuries. Honey… oh my poor baby,” gasped my mom before collapsing beside
my bed to clutch the hand that didn't have an IV in it. All I could do was stare at her like some alien
being. All at once, gut wrenching fear was filling me. Where was Otis? Where was my child? What the
Hell was I doing back here?! Clutching my head, I began to scream my lover's name over and over; doctors
rushing around me in a sudden flurry of activity.
Finally, one of them was injecting something into a tube coming out of my left arm. In an instant, my
yells tapered off while the edges of my vision went gray. Feeling some relief as I slipped into
unconsciousness, I heard the doctor say something to my mom. “Quite normal… Stockholm Syndrome…
probably name of the man who… Best not to stress her…,” came a broken conversation as I pulled away
into darkness. Some part of me hoped I would be back with Otis and the others when I woke up.

What Would You Call Home?

Author’s Note: The last chapter of our tale. I hope you enjoyed it, as hard as it was to read at points.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: What Would You Call Home?

The smell of antiseptic hit me before I even opened my eyes, drawing a groan from my dried, cracked lips
while my eyes fluttered open. Immediately, my vision was assaulted by glaring white; making me wince
and squint. Raising a hand slightly while blinking my eyes to ease the pain, I took in the sterile walls
that surrounded me. As I turned my head I saw the two doctors standing by the hard gurney I was lying
in. Moving to sit up, I discovered my entire body had been strapped to the table-like device. “Hello Raven.
Good to see you’ve woken up. We had to strap you down until we come to a little understanding. You’re
going to be here for a long while and we need to show you around the facility. If you can promise not to
give us any trouble, we can let you up. Sound good?” murmured the gentle voice of the blonde doctor.
“Doesn’t sound like I have much choice. I won’t cause any trouble. I’m as invested in this going smoothly
as you are,” sighed out of me, a feeling of resignation washing over me. After how my mom found me and
how I acted when I woke up in the hospital, it was understandable that they’d be a bit cautious.
With a nod to eachother, the pair unstrapped me; stepping back to allow me to swing my legs over the
edge. Sliding off the metal frame, I noticed I was wearing one of those awful hospital gowns that showed
all too much from the back. To make matters worse, I was completely naked. Pulling the back shut as well
as I could, I shot an embarrassed looked toward the two men that would be accompanying me. “Sorry
about that. We take the clothes of all our patients until they prove they aren’t going to kill themselves.
You’d be surprised how resourceful suicidal people can be,” the dark haired, goateed one of the pair
explained, his words not doing much to help me feel better.
Sighing, I simply shrugged and motioned for them to lead the way. The sooner I could get to my room and
away from prying eyes, the better. I also just wanted some time to myself. After everything that had
happened, I needed a moment or two to decompress. Following the pair of what appeared to be
psychologists, I kept my eyes on the tile floor beneath my stocking covered feet. I didn’t want to make
eye contact or instigate conversation. I just wanted to get a door between me and the rest of the world
as fast as possible. It was only later that I found out the Hell Otis had been going through on the other
side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The Night of the Birth~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cold eyes stared at where the woman had been just moments before, the blood staining the floor and the
baby squalling in the background the only evidence that she had existed at all. Her screams still rang in
his ears, his heart cramping in his bony chest while it suddenly became harder to breathe. Feeling
vaguely like he was choking, the ruthless killer felt his callused fingers slowly release the needle and
thread they still held. Then an unholy sound was ripping from the depths of his soul, his lanky body
bending forward so he could rub his cheek in the mess of blood and afterbirth his lover had left behind.
Grimacing as she watched her brother, Baby did her best to quiet the newborn in her arms. In all her
years with the beast howling on the floor, she had never seen him so broken up about anyone. It was
almost like she was watching an entirely different person altogether. Reaching forward with the hand
that wasn’t holding the sniffling infant, she placed the appendage between his shuddering back just as
Spaulding came bursting into the room like a raging rhino.
Dark eyes narrowed, a mustached lip lifted in disgust as he took in the spectacle before him. “Th’fuck is
wrong with him? Where’s th’whore?” spat the paint smeared man, gaze meeting that of his daughter. The
blonde flinched when the man she called her brother simply let out a louder cry, hands clawing at the
floorboards as if that would bring the woman back.
“That is the problem. She’s jest… she jest disappeared. She’s gone,” Baby whispered, feeling a little gutted
seeing Otis acting like this.
“Well thet’s jest Jim Fuckin’ Dandy ain’t it?” spat the dark skinned male before he was slumping and
heaving a slow sigh. Then, he was moving to kneel beside the wraith with his daughter.
Vaguely aware of the movements of the pair, Otis found he simply didn’t care. Dragging his fingers along
the roughened, blood covered floorboards, the killer only wanted one thing. His lover back from
wherever she had disappeared to. Never in his life could he remember feeling this intensity of pain. Not
even when his own mother died. Feeling the pair moving his arms, he allowed it until they began to lift
him. Lashing out like a wild animal, he twisted out of their grip until he once more had his face against
the soiled wood.
Grimacing while she watched him, she glared at the man across from her when she saw him shifting his
weight. Knowing him, it was likely he was about to suggest leaving both Otis and the child behind.
Something she outright refused to do. While not related by blood, they were still family. She would die
before abandoning them. Thankfully, the old pervert seemed to get the message; shaking his head in
annoyed resignation. “Git his knife from him. I’ll git th’rope from th’van,” Spaulding hissed before stomping
off, leaving her to stare at the wreck her former lover had turned into.
After what seemed like an endless amount of time, he was back; an old, frayed looking rope in his meaty
hands. Raising her brow, she didn’t argue; simply laid the sleeping baby on the bed before helping to tie
Otis’ long limbs. It felt surreal when he didn’t put up a fight, not even twitching when they shoved a
dirty rag in his mouth as a makeshift gag. The only time he struggled was when they tried to lift him
from the mess on the floor. With his limbs tied together, the best he was able to do was swing his body;
letting out noises that chilled her blood. “Git him out to th’van!” Spaulding screamed before they were
carting him outside. It was only then that there came an even more disturbing silence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Present Day~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I keep telling you, I don’t remember all of it. I really don’t know what else you want me to say here,”
growled my exasperated voice as I met the well meaning eyes of the psychologist across from me. It felt
like I had been having the same conversation over and over for months now. Never getting anywhere and
just hearing the same questions. Frankly, I was getting a bit tired of it. I had only been here a week and
it already felt like it had been more than half a year.
“We simply want the truth Raven. We want to catch the man that did this to you so he doesn’t do it to
another person,” came a reply I had heard all too often.
“And, like I keep saying, I can’t remember his name or where he lives. I can’t even remember how I got
home,” I sighed, not liking the fact that I was lying but not having much choice. If I told these people I
had been in some fictional dimension, my stay in this place would be lengthened greatly. I wanted to get
out of here as soon as possible.
“What you said at the hospital says otherwise. You kept calling a name. Otis I believe it was. Yet, when
we look in the database, no such man exists,” came the real meat of the manner and an argument I had
heard more than once.
“Otis is the name of a character from a movie I liked to watch. I likely substituted his name for that of
the man who took me. Look… when can I go home?” I asked, dreading the answer I would receive. When
he sat back in his chair and got a grim look on his face, I only felt my optimism drop further.
“I’m afraid you’ll be with us for a bit longer. With you likely suffering Stockholm, we don’t want to take
the risk of you running back to the man who did this to you,” came words I had also heard far too much.
“Then, can I go my room for a bit? Answering the same questions is giving me a headache,” I requested,
getting a nod in return.
Huffing slightly, I got to my feet and left; allowing the door to swing shut behind me. Ignoring the voices
of the other patients, I made my way to the cell they called a room. The walls were a plain white and
the one window I had was tiny with bars covering it. Yet, it was mine and the one place I could be alone.
While they had tried to give me a roommate in the beginning, living with Otis had left me more that a
little antisocial. I went out of my way to make them so uncomfortable that they left. After many
attempts, they took the hint and simply stopped.
Opening my door with a squall from the rusting hinges, I took in the bare square I had been given as a
dwelling. Looking out at the blue sky from between the iron bars, I felt my heart cramp in my chest.
“Otis…,” whispered out of me as I sank to my knees. It was only now that I would allow myself to weep.
The people outside must never know that I was mourning for a person they thought was a monster. While
they were right, he hadn’t treated me roughly in a very long time. Not only that, but I honestly missed
him; finding my bed all too empty without his presence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~In Another Reality~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Patting the baby’s back while she tried to get him to sleep, Mama found her eyes traveling to the ceiling.
Since Cutter and Baby had brought him in, the wanderer she had adopted as her own hadn’t been the
same. While he accepted food and allowed them to walk him around for exercise, the fire that was him
simply wasn’t there anymore. All he seemed to want to do was stare out of his window, a strange
expression on his gaunt face. In truth, she had never seen the ghoulish man in this much pain before.
Right now, Baby was out trying to round up a few women for them to torture. A possibly futile attempt
to draw him out of his stupor. Before, the matriarch would have been right on board with Baby. The Otis
she had know would have been all over using a few teens to make himself feel better. The person that was
upstairs was an entirely different matter. There was no telling what he would do. He could either ignore
the offer or react violently. Either way, it was bound to be a spectacle.
Sigh as she carried young Clarence to the small playpen in the kitchen, she couldn’t help but wonder what
had happened to Raven. While odd, the young woman was sweet. She had considered her a second
daughter. Especially with how attached Otis was to her. Mama had even been looking forward to planning
their wedding, something that would be impossible now. “Wherever ya are honey, we all miss ya. Ya gotta
come home fer yer son and fer mah Otis. He’s not himself wi’out ya,” she whispered as she straightened,
blue eyes going to the ceiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Months Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time can be funny if you stop to think about it. A singular moment can seem like a month has gone by.
Now, imagine living with that for an actual month. Imagining having to deal with it for close to a year?
You would likely be out of your mind, right? Now, imagine that you had a newborn you’ve never seen as
well as someone you missed wildly on the outside. Now you’re close to feeling what I was. To say I was
close to burrowing through the walls with my teeth would be a gross understatement. It was a hard
fight not to jump the doctor and make a run for it whenever my door was opened.
So, when the head of the hospital came by to say I had been cleared to go home, I was close to being over
the moon with joy. Not bothering to gather my pitiful belongings, I went immediately to wait for my
mother to pick me up. I was honestly sick of having pills I couldn't pronounce being shoved down my
throat because they thought there was something wrong. There was also the fact that, once I got back to
my mom’s house, I would be able to find a way to get back to the people I now considered my family. For
that reason alone, the wait for the woman that gave birth to me was agonizing.
While I accepted the fact my relationship with Otis was anything but healthy, I still loved him. There
was also the child I had given birth to but had never even held. I didn’t even know if the infant had
survived or was healthy. Because of this, I had been filled with a restlessness these past months. Still, I
had to fight to keep my anticipation off my face when my mom came through the doors. One little slip
and I would be right back where I started. Something I didn’t want this close to freedom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~In Another Reality~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Staring at the body of his sleeping companion in the back of the van, Otto found himself honestly worried.
It had all started almost a year ago, the metal headed man sinking to his knees suddenly. Before he had
been able to do anything, the other man had released a noise he had never heard before and hoped to
never hear again. It had been the most profound noise of agony he had ever heard. For a few minutes he
had been afraid it wouldn’t stop. Then it had, the silence being even more disturbing as the man keeled
over unconscious.
While a bit crazy, the oldest of the Sawyer brothers had been his partner for a long time. They had sex
more than a few times and he considered the other’s family his own. So, when Choptop hadn’t awakened,
he had been outright terrified. Unfortunately, it had taken much longer to get his head on right because
of that. It took him much long than it should have to think of driving to his cousin’s new place. After all,
that woman of his had been the cause of strangeness before. His suspicions were only confirmed when the
murderer in the back began to stir, groaning quietly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~At the Firefly Place~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glaring at the body on his floor, Otis felt nothing. He had felt nothing since waking up a week ago.
Nothing but the glaring emptiness inside him and a dull pain in his heart. Gripping the hilt of his hunting
knife in a bone-white grip, he listened to the wailing of his son in the background. A son he had only see
once. A son that looked so much like him but still had some features of her face. A son he couldn’t bear to
be around because of that fact. Stabbing into the cold meat, he was numb to the room temperature blood
hitting his skin.
Why? Why had she made him feel so deeply and then disappeared into thin air? Why had she taken his
heart with him? He couldn’t even really feel anger anymore, just the searing agony of her absence. It was
like acid on his skin and he wanted to cause as much pain as he could. To make others scream so he
wouldn’t have to focus on what he was experiencing. “Fuck!” snarled out of him, his blade diving into a
dead heart and tearing while tears dribbled down his cheeks to mix with the blood.
Jumping to his feet with a strangled cry, he flung his weapon away from himself to bury the heels of his
hands into his forehead. Releasing a string of curses, the wraith began to pace while spittle flew from his
lips. It was only the sound of two familiar voices from below that stopped his frantic movement. Holding
his breathe, the killer listened. “Hey Mama! That Tissy’s kid? C’n I hold him? What’s his name?” purred the
voice of his cousin, making rage replace the nothing that had been there seconds before. Yet, under that,
there was a thin thread of hope.
If Otto was down there, maybe Chrome-dome was with him. The pair was rarely apart and he seemed to
have and eerie connection with Raven as well as himself. Maybe he knew something. Maybe… maybe she
was coming back. Either way, he couldn’t allow the rat to hold his son before he did. So, picking up his
knife, he went out of his room and into the hall; making his way to the head of the stairs. “His name is
Clarence and I ain’t ‘bout t’let ya hold him when even his own daddy hasn’t,” spat the matriarch of the
clan, making him praise the woman as he practically vaulted the stairs. Peeking around the open entry
for the living room, he saw the brown hair of his only relative.
“Th’fuck ya doin’ here anyway?” he hissed, eyes searching the room for a glint of steel. He wasn’t
disappointed when he saw Choptop not too far away. In fact, there was already a smirk on his all too
familiar face.
“She’s comin’ back,” whispered his gravelly voice before Otto could say anything.
Otis was moving before anyone could stop him, taking bony shoulders into a tight grip and shaking. “What
d’ya know? What have ya seen? Where will she be?” came out of him in a flood, his cousin making several
unsuccessful attempts to separate the pair.
“Let go of me an’ I’ll tell ya where we need t’go,” came a response that froze all movement.
Letting loose a snarl, the wraith began to slowly pry his fingers loose; each one an extreme effort. Then
he was taking a couple steps back, inhaling deeply in an effort to calm himself. “Lead me and ya better not
be doin’ anythin’ funny,” hissed the ghoul, resisting the urge to slit the other man’s throat when he
laughed. Then the hippie was turning to head out the front door, Otto’s protests summarily ignored.
“Doesn’t anyone care that I might want Choppy to stay here?! Hey!” he called out, running after the pair
while Mama watched with a bemused expression.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The ‘Real’ World~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Watching the scenery pass by, I felt my skin itch with anticipation. It was all I could do not to run out
of the car as soon as my mother had parked. Ignoring her declarations of making dinner, I made a bee-line
for my room. Rummaging through my movies, I fumbled for the case for ‘Rejects’; feeling my heart drop
when I found the case empty. Then, remembering I had stuck it in my DVD player the night all of this had
started, I simply turned on my TV and pressed play.
Impatiently, I watched while the movie played out; waiting for my chance to go home. Then, it was
happening. The scene that had caused this mess. Closing my eyes and using all my desire, I made my wish.
At first, nothing happened; filling me with a sickening dread. Then, my reality was tipping forward and I
was laughing; relief filling me to the tips of my toes. I was going home! I would deal with how I would get
to their location once I got to their reality.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Ruggsville~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The smell of gasoline mixed with fried chicken and dust was the first thing to hit my nose as my eyes
opened to take in the burnt remains of Spaulding’s. It had to be the work of Wydell after the family had
fled, making my heart hurt from the sight of it. Shaking my head, I began to make my way down the
cracked asphalt that made up the road. My best bet was to make it to the old house. Though, I had no idea
what I would do from there. Still, at least I had a much better chance of running into them here.
The faint sound of a vehicle approaching from down the road got my attention and I fought against my
urge to hide in the ditch. It was a good walk to the homestead and they might be willing to give me a
ride. So, when the headlights washed over me, I waved rather than shied away; feeling encouraged when
the vehicle slowed. The closer it got, the more familiar it became; filling me with a terrible sense of hope.
When I saw it was Captain Spaulding’s Cadillac, it was all I could do not to run out in front of it as it
came to a stop. As a door was swinging open, I was moving; jumping into the arms of Otis while he was
getting out of the car. Making a noise deep in his chest, the wraith struggled to regain his balance for a
few moments before bending to give me a searing kiss. “Missed ya too babe. Maybe, some day, I’ll tell ya
jest how much. Fer now, I jest wanna git ya home and introduce ya t’Clarence,” purred in my ear while he
sat in the passenger seat with me firmly in his lap.
“And you have me ta thank fer this tiny reunion. How d’ya propose t’repay me,” piped up a familiar and
not unexpected voice from the back, drawing my attention to Choptop. Too relieved to do anything but
laugh, I bent over my lover to kiss his cheek and ruffle his thinning hair.
“Thanks,” I whispered before returning to the front to grin at Otto.
“Home, Jeeves,” I commanded playfully, giggling while Choppy and Otis began to argue back and forth.
“Anythin’ ya want lil lady. Gotta say, it is good t’have ya home,” the brunette cooed, revving the engine
before turning around and heading toward my new home.
The End

Love, I'd Never Hurt You

Staring at Otis’ blood covered visage, I licked my lips as anticipation began to light in my veins. There
was a strange light in his ice blue eyes, one that spoke of a game only he and I played. A game the family
did not understand but kept out of the way of nonetheless. Tightening his grip on his knife, he jerked his
head violently to one side with a crack; my signal of the start. Barely able to contain my gleeful
laughter, I ran; sprinting down the stairs and out the front door. Breath burning in my lungs while fear
and excitement mixed inside me, I headed for the rusted hulks of the abandoned vehicles the family had
collected.
They would provide crucial coverage while I made my way to the forest. Once I was there, the fun would
really begin. “Little rabbit, yew c’n run all ya want but ya cain’t git away from me,” snarled a raspy mid-
tone from not too far away, making the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Keeping myself
low to the ground, I made my way around the cars while my pulse drummed in my ears.
I could still remember the first time we had done this, the thought of my fear back then amusing me now.
As a killer, Otis sometimes had an urge to hunt. For the longest time, he had wanted to hunt me; finally
losing out to the urge soon after I had come back home. He said it added a certain flavor to our
relationship, something I didn’t understand at the time but I certainly did now. As dangerous as the
game was, it made me feel alive.

‘I'm a killer, cold and wrathful’

Carefully slipping past the cars and into the trees, I couldn’t help but notice the utter silence. Feeling my
skin prickle, I made my way through the thick forest; making sure to keep an ear out for the slightest
noise. Anything that gave away the psychopath’s position. Unfortunately, he was far too clever to allow
that and I was well aware of that; both from the movies I had watched and the years I had spent in his
company. I was probably one of the only people alive that understood and accepted him as much as I had.
I was certainly the only one he loved enough to want to hunt down like this, as odd as it sounds.
Hearing a branch snap behind me, I ran through tight avenues in the forest; taking care to make as little
noise as possible. Panting slightly, I hazarded a glance behind me to see a gaunt shadow coming at me at a
fast clip. Biting back a squeak of fear, I hunkered down into a copse of bushes; feeling a bit like I was being
herded somewhere. Just where that could be, I wasn’t sure.

‘Silent sleeper, I've been inside your bedroom’

Soon, it became apparent I was being driven to a near-by cemetery. One that had long been abandoned by
the town and rediscovered by the Fireflys. With us living in a new place, it was a convenient spot to
dump bodies. Just lately, Otis had been on a bit of a killing spree; creating many a fresh grave in the large
plot. Making my way to a mausoleum, I pressed my back against a wall while I fought to catch my breath.
Yet, despite the very real fear of what he would do when he caught me, I couldn’t help but feel giddy. It
had been far too long since we had indulged in our game. “Is my little bunny hiding in her hutch? You
won’t be there for long,” cooed a voice from not too far away, making my heart freeze. Hazarding a glance,
I saw him stalk his way into the headstones. Rotting monuments to people that had long been forgotten.
That was when I noticed something scrawled on the ones closest to me. Words that appeared to be
written in disturbingly fresh blood.
‘All of the most recent graves, they have been for you’ read one. ‘My hunger for you has been building,
becoming unbearable’ declared another. ‘Not even Baby would agree to these games. She was too afraid I
would accidentally kill her’ confessed a third, causing a small lump to form in my throat. In his weird
way, he was trying to be romantic. It was almost enough to make me break cover and end the fun early.
Almost.

‘I've murdered half the town, left you love notes on their headstones. I'll fill the graveyards until I have
you.’

Getting the feeling he wanted the chase to go on a bit longer, I slid back into the pines near-by. Taking a
winding path, I soon found myself entirely lost. Yet, there was still a feeling of danger; a feeling of
relentless pursuit. Licking dry lips, I scampered to the next tree; pressing my back against its cool trunk
just as a I heard a faint rustle from the location I had been just moments earlier. Then he seemed to
pause, taking in several deep breaths of air and letting out a satisfied noise. “I can smell you rabbit. Your
fear, your desperation, your lust ,” the last word a guttural rumble that set my insides on fire.
Clenching my hands into fists, I held my breath until he moved off in a different direction; taking the
chance to make a move for some bushes. Making my way through the undergrowth, I felt my heart
flutter as he immediately began to head toward me. Staying still and holding my breath, I closed my eyes
as he came to a halt a bit too close to me for comfort. If I wanted to, I could reach out and brush his
jeans with my fingertips. The only saving grace was just how dark it was, allowing me to blend into the
leaves of the bushes around me.

‘Moonlight walking, I smell your softness. Carnivorous and lusting to track you down among the pines.’

“I can practically taste you my little bunny. I can’t tell you just how much I’ve been looking forward to
this,” rasped out of him before he was slowly moving away from me. Waiting until he was gone, I began to
make my way through the forest. Every noise made me jump as I continued in some random direction,
hoping against hope to come across an adequate hiding place. Not that I had much hope of really winning
this. Otis almost always won, eventually hunting me out in the end.
Just thinking about what happened after made me shudder all over. That was when I saw it, a rotting
church that might have been part of the cemetery at one time. Moving toward it, I barely got through
the doorway before I was tackled to the ground. A hot body pressed into mine, ragged breaths puffing
against the nape of my neck while his knife settled against my pulse. “Found ya lil rabbit,” purred his
triumphant mid-tone in my ear.

‘I want you stuffed into my mouth. Hold you down and tear you open, live inside you. Love, I'd never hurt
you.’

Barely daring to breathe, I stayed still until his urge to kill ebbed a bit. Soon, he was softening just
enough to let me know I was out of danger. Yet, that didn’t mean I would get out of what he wanted as
his prize. The last time we had done this, it had taken me weeks to heal properly. Hence why he had
stopped for such a long time. Yet, he had let it build up so much that I couldn’t say it had been a good
thing to do.
Grinding his erection into my clothed ass, he dragged the sharp blade slowly down my throat; lapping up
the blood he drew. “Mmm, been far too long since I felt this. This thrill of chasing, of claiming what is
rightfully mine,” rasped in my ear, another line of pain being drawn across my neck with his weapon.
Growling, he sucked hard on the newest wound; hands pressing my own to the ground. Because he still
held his knife, it was more than a little painful but I knew better than to complain at this point.

‘But I'll grind against your bones until our marrows mix, I will eat you slowly.. ’

Despite appearances, I was enjoying this as much as he was. Every part of me thrilled at the feeling of the
shallow cuts being dotted across my flesh. Biting my lips against a lusty moan, I shuddered as I felt him
tear open my shirt; exposing my naked chest. Callused fingers pinched and twisted sensitive nipples while
the grinding against my backside intensified. “Fuck lil girl, I can smell jest how much this is turnin’ ya on.
Just how much ya want me, even when I’m hurtin’ ya,” husked out of him before his blade was in one of
the hands resting on my soft breasts.
**Fear and desire zinged through my veins as I inhaled deeply and tried to relax as much as I could. This
wouldn’t be the first time he had cut me in such a sensitive place and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Therefore, I had adapted a strategy to lessen the amount of pain I felt. So, when the blade sliced through
the scarred nodule, a throaty moan issued from my throat. Warm blood gushed from the wound,
torrenting over his fingers while he let out a hiss of pleasure. “Such an eager little victim. And very
well trained,” sighed in my ear before I was being flipped onto my back.**

‘Oh, the horror of our love, never so much blood pulled through my veins. Oh, the horror of our love..
never so much blood’

His hot mouth closed over my aching wound, eagerly sucking while my hands buried themselves in his
greasy, white hair. Flicking his tongue over the sliced nipple, he tensed before making sure to pin my
hands under his once more. “Sometimes, I have nightmares ya’ve disappeared agin. That.. I’m alone once
more,” husked a shaky confession that made my heart shudder behind my ribs.
“I hate that I cain’t live wi’out ya. That ya’ve made me this soft. But.. ,” he continued, meeting my eyes
with his; the sky blue orbs full of emotions I had never seen from him before.
“I’m also.. grateful fer yer presence in my life every damn day,” snarled from above me before he was
kissing me harshly. Next thing I knew, he was slapping me across the face.

‘I wake in terror, blackbirds screaming. Dark cathedrals spilling midnight on their altars’

Rather than be offended or upset at the abuse, I only became more turned on by his fury. Some, twisted
part of me craved the abuse and found his power intoxicating. I had grown addicted to the rush the abuse
gave me, let alone the fear it caused. Staring up at him defiantly, I wasn’t too surprised when his knife
came to rest on my throat. Baring his teeth at me, the wraith above me ripped off my shirt before briefly
moving his gaze to take in where we were. Slowly, a dark grin twisted his grizzled features before he was
taking me into his arms.
With purposeful strides, he made his way to a cobweb coated altar; sneering up at the crucified Jesus
that hung above. Then he was meeting my eyes once more, a dangerous glint in the icy orbs. “Ya’ve made
me weak, made me want ta take care of ya. Now, I’ll defile ya in this house of God,” he spat before yanking
off my jeans to reveal the fact I was wearing no underwear.

‘I'm your servant, my immortal. Pale and perfect, such unholy heaving’

Eyes fixing on my breasts while they heaved and shuddered, he clambered on top of me before lapping at
my still bleeding flesh. His other hand drew his sharp blade down my torso, slicing open my skin in a
shallow wound. A gasp bouncing off the high ceiling, my hands landed on his clothed back only to be
pinned under the hand that wasn’t holding the knife. “Don’t recall givin’ ya permission ta touch me,”
growled out his gruff voice before his facial hair was scratching against the cut that trailed from my
collarbone to the beginning of my pubic hair.
While he lapped at the superficial wound, he was cutting another line down my torso; drawing a hiss
from my lips as I arched up into the pain. I was far beyond questioning why I felt this or how wrong it
was that I was enjoying it. Over time, I had learned just to lie back and go with it. Squirming under him, I
became aware of the eyes of several statues focused on my nude body.

‘The statues close their eyes, the room is changing. Break my skin and drain me’
Roughened fingers at my entrance drew my attention to the monster I had fallen in love with. Had even
had a child with. A cold hunger was in his eyes now, his upper lip lifting while his fingers brushed my
attentive clit. “Should be grateful I’m even doin’ this much fer ya. Never cared s’much ‘bout a slut in mah
life,” spat his embittered voice, the hand between my legs speaking of his true feelings. Despite how
furious he sounded, his touches were tender; like he was doing his best to make sure I felt as much
pleasure as he could give me.
Huffing out the moan I knew he wanted to hear, I suddenly found my hands released as he closed his free
hand around my neck. Slowly, he began to squeeze; cutting off my air supply gradually. Yet, I wasn’t
afraid. This was all part of the game and I had expected it to happen sooner or later. No matter how close
I thought I was to suffocating, Otis seemed to know the exact moment to let up long enough for a small
swallow of air. Besides, it had become one of my favorite activities.

‘Ancient language, speak through fingers. The awful edges where you end and I begin’

Mouth closing over mine, he took the last of my breaths into his lungs before cutting off my air entirely.
Instead of struggling, I relaxed; relishing the slight burn as my lungs began to protest. Focusing on the
movements of his fingers against my skin, I opened to him when he bit at my lips for entry. Curling his
tongue around mine, he groaned into my mouth while my consciousness began to swim. My lungs were
already screaming for air but I was at the mercy of the beast above me. I would not breathe until he
allowed it. My life was literally in his hands, a fact that thrilled the both of us equally.
After so many years together, we were a perfectly matched couple; open to each other’s needs. No
matter how strange. Kissing him back for all I was worth, I was well aware of the fact he had inhaled
deeply though his nose. Preparing myself for the burst of foul tasting but need air, I sucked in as much as
I could as soon as his hand loosened. Then it was clamping down again, satisfying my body’s urges for the
time being.

‘Inside your mouth I cannot see. There's catastrophe in everything I'm touching, as I sweat and crush
you’

Removing his hand from my entrance, he placed his erection where it had been with a soft growl. Placing
the hand than had been there over my wrists. Curling my fingers along the hand that held my wrists, I
let out a strained gurgle of my own when he slid into me; wasting precious air. Tightening his grip on my
neck painfully, he broke the kiss to lap at the breast he had yet to mutilate. Wrapping his tongue around
the small button, he began to suck; feeling me with a sense of foreboding while my consciousness drifted
and my lungs began to beg for air once again.
Just as I was starting to think he would just allow me to pass out, his fingers loosened; allowing me a
deep breath in before closing me off again. Slowly, his hips began a torturous rhythm; making sure to hit
all the sweet spots inside me. Soft moans left me against my will, wasting a bit of the limited amount of
oxygen I desperately needed. Smirking at me knowingly, he covered my mouth with his own before
picking up the speed.

‘And I hold your beating chambers until they beat no more, you die like angels sing.. ’
**Inhaling through his nose, he released my throat so I could take in the foul breath he was giving me.
Then he was releasing my hands, a sharp blade settling over my uninjured breast. Giving a hard thrust
forward, he sliced through the nipple with ease; swallowing my strangled gasp as my hands settled at my
sides to grip the edges of the altar I was laying on. After all, he had still yet to give me permission to
touch him. Giving my lower lip a nip, he broke the kiss the meet my eyes; a smirk on his mouth. “Ya’ve been
s’good fer me. I see no reason not t’give ya a reward. Go ahead and place yer hands on mah back,” rasped a
concession that was more of a plea.**
The longer this went on, the more his innate violence bled out for his real feelings. Deep down, he would
always long for my touch and affection. Even if he would never outwardly show it. Raising my hands
while my lungs burned and begged for air, I placed them on his back; raking my nails down as his hips
began to slam into mine. “Ahh, fuck,” hissed out of him before he was sucking on my fresh wound, his hips
gyrating as his movements began to grow desperate.

‘Oh, the horror of our love, never so much blood pulled through my veins. Oh, the horror of our love..
never so much blood’

One last time, his grip loosened to allow me a breath before he was choking me once more; the hand
holding the knife dropping the weapon to rest on my hip. Sucking hard on the recently injured nipple, he
began to drive into me with a purpose; a familiar feeling beginning to tingle in my lower belly. Biting my
lower lip to keep in the precious air, I arched into him; my nails leaving bloody lines in his heaving back.
Ever so slowly, my vision was beginning to go black from the exertion using up my oxygen but the
deprivation only heightened my pleasure. White sparks exploding in my vision, I let out a strangled
gurgle before cumming hard. Vaguely aware of Otis’ triumphant roar above me, I felt myself slip into
unconsciousness; the last of my air leaving my lungs while the killer slumped over me.

‘You're a ghost love, nightgown flowing. Your body blue and walking along the continental shelf’

Floating free of my body, I got the surreal sensation of watching Otis release my throat; only to realize
he was too late. Gruff curses came from his lips as he began to try to resuscitate my limp body. Feeling a
pull in two separate directions, I felt myself caught between life and death. I could feel a soft light
calling to me, voices of family long dead luring me to an eternal sleep. Yet, watching my lover work to
bring me back anchored me. Each fruitless attempt made him that much more desperate, swears turning
into pleas as he relentlessly gave me mouth to mouth.
Moving lower, I could more clearly hear what he was saying as he continued to breathe for me. “I ain’t
givin’ up on ya s’long as yer not gonna give up on me! Now fuckin’ breathe!” he commanded in a tear
clogged snarl, hands compressing my unmoving chest while my skin began to gray out. Then, as if the
closeness to my body had triggered a reaction, I drew in a ragged breath.

‘You are a dream among the sharks; beautiful and terrifying, lit and restless. We dance in dark suspension’

“That’s it! Come on back! I know yer more stubborn than this,” he hissed, lifting me into a sitting position.
As I watched, color returned to my skin and the pull to return to my body became greater. Reaching out
a transparent hand, I touched my own cheek; fascinated by the glow. Nodding, I walked forward; settling
back into myself. The sensation was like slipping into a bath, filling me with a sense of peace.
Taking in an inhale that felt like mana, my eyes fluttered open to meet his. In an instant, he was crushing
his lips to mine; only breaking contact to cuss me out. “Stupid bitch. Scarin’ me like that. Makin’ me think
ya really weren’t comin’ back that time,” rasped his unsteady voice before he was kissing his way to one
of the cuts that started at my collarbone.

‘And you bury me in the ocean floor beneath you, where they'll never hear us scream.. ’

Moving to lap at my still bleeding breasts, he began to rumble while his arms wound around me. It was
like he was using the smell and taste of me to reassure himself I was really alright. Yet, despite the
scare we’d had, I knew we wouldn’t change any of our game. The danger had always been a part of the
appeal. “We’re gonna take some time offa this fer a bit,” husked out a declaration I had expected and
wasn’t happy about.
“We already tried that and look what happened. This accident would have never occured if you weren’t
so pent up,” I pointed out a bit breathlessly, sitting up slowly to give him a glare.
Pursing his lips, Otis glowered at me before shaking his head. “Yew ain’t th’one in charge here. I’ll decide
what’s best. Now, let’s git ya back to th’house and all taken care of he snarled. Yet, the words alone told
me I had already won. Besides, neither of us were willing to ever really give up this ritual. So, with a
shrug, I nestled into his bony chest while he draped his shirt over me.

‘Oh, the horror of our love, never so much blood pulled through my veins. Oh, the horror of our love..
never so much blood’

A Fair Trade
Chapter 1

Holding tightly to the distressed 5-month-old in her arms, the young woman listened to the pounding on
the wooden door as it intensified. It shook wildly from the abuse, but surprisingly it held firm. The
person on the other side cursed and yelled threats, while the terrified mother tried calming the small
child with soothing words. She attempted to relax her tense form and settle her wreck nerves, but the
child still felt her distress and continued with its fussing.
Closing her eyes, she tried blocking out the threats that were being thrown through the thick wood. It
was hard since they seemed to increase in volume the more that she didn’t respond. Her exes screechy
voice filtered into the enclosed room. “You stupid bitch! Open this fucking door right now! I’m going to
shut that fucking brat up then you’re fucking next!”
The scared mother silently prayed that the door would hold, though praying was useless. She knew what
happened when you died, and there was no god at the other end, just a boring waiting room with a bunch
of stiffs.
Fuck! She ran her free hand through her matted hair as the panic within her began to rise. She didn’t
want to die. Not anymore, anyway. She wasn’t a sad and depressed kid that wanted in on the other side.
No, she had grown up a long time ago.
Her eyes popped open and went to the useless phone at her feet. The son of a bitch had cut the phone lines
before he had broken into the house. The foot closest to it shot out and kicked the hunk of plastic across
the tiled floor.
Shit! She should have known that something like this could happen. Why did she let her guard down?
Why did she think that a protection order would have been enough? Goddamn it!
Her lip throbbed wildly, while her shaky fingers raised carefully to touch the split in her appendage. The
fucking abusive cunt had caught her while she was sleeping. He had hit her a good one to wake her up
from her slumber. The asshat then had proceeded to strike her a few more times, before the opportunity
to get away came. She did get in a kick of her own and was able to nail his nuts as a form of payback.
The door groaned, causing her brown eyes to snap to it and suck in a sharp breath. Oh no, the wood wasn’t
going to hold much longer. Shit! They needed help. She tightened her hold on her daughter, as her mind
frantically fought for some kind of solution. They couldn’t die like this! She couldn’t let them die like
this! ‘Come on, Lydia! Think of something, damn it!’ She screamed at herself as her fear got the best of her.
Suddenly a face from her childhood popped into her mind’s eye. Him! She hadn’t thought about him in
years. Would he come if she called? Would his anger from their broken deal cloud his judgment? Shit, she
wasn’t sure! Lydia really didn’t know him at all. Well, other than what she had seen and heard. None of
those things were stellar by any means.
The wood of the door creaked some more, clearly splintering from the hits. The frightened female shut
her eyes and held her breath, but the door didn’t budge. Christ, she had to decide whether she was going
to call him or not. Either way, Lydia looked at it, she was screwed.
The pounding continued, and so did the groaning of the wood. Fuck it! She couldn’t let that abusive fucker
on the other side of the door get to them. Lydia had always had some luck with the dead, and now she
had some leverage. The young mother knew what the dead man wanted the most, his freedom.
She opened her eyes and gazed at her daughter then leaned in to kiss her tiny forehead. She would do
anything for her child, even if that meant giving up her own freedom. Lucinda was worth it. Her
daughter would always be worth it.
Leaning her head back against the wall, Lydia closed her eyes once again and said the name that she
swore that she would never utter. Her voice was but a whisper as the name slid passed her bloody lips.
“Betelgeuse.” The hairs on the back of her neck and arms raised at her words. She swallowed again and
forced the name. “Betelgeuse.” The air became thicker, and energy seemed to now flow around the tiny
bathroom. Lydia held her child tighter and said his name one last time. “Betelgeuse.”
The crackling of energy swirled around the room, along with his gravelly laugh of triumph. “Fuck Yeah!”
She heard him clap his hands in delight. “Free at fucking last. I knew that old bat couldn’t hold me!” There
was some more whooping then he became quiet as he must have taken in the situation he had popped into.

Lydia opened her dark eyes and scanned the small room. Her terrified gaze landed on the now silent
poltergeist and watched as recognition flashed in his green eyes. Before the young woman could blink, he
was in front of her, and his cool hand flew out to snag ahold of her chin. The poltergeist drew it up to his
face for closer inspection. His bright eyes burned even brighter as he moved her face from side to side.
Betelgeuse’s gruff voice oozed his anger, while his body shook violently, and a snarl ripped from him.
“Who the fuck did this?”
As soon as she could open her mouth to speak, the door was getting another beating, and the threats
continued. “Lydia, you fucking whore! Did you really think a piece of paper would stop me? When I get to
you, you are going to wish for your death then I’m going to drown that little bastard that I never
fucking wanted!”
Lydia sucked in a sharp breath and grabbed onto the dirty striped sleeve, as a plea fell from her lips.
“Please, he’ll do it. He’ll hurt LuLu.” Tears pooled in her tired eyes and spilled down her cheeks, landing on
his cold hand. “Please help us. I…I’ll do anything.”
Betelgeuse’s eyes roamed her face, then to the door and back. His smoky voice was hard as steel as he
spoke to her. “Marry me. No fucking bullshit. No goody-goodies and definitely, no goddamn sandworms! We
marry tonight. Agree to my terms, and your problem will be gone.”
Lydia didn’t think twice as she agreed whole-heartedly to the terms laid out in front of her. As long as
he protected Lulu from that abusive bastard, she’d do whatever the dead man wanted. To her, that
seemed like a fair trade. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Please just make him go away.”
The dead man stared at the frightened woman for a few minutes as if he were weighing her words. Not
that she could blame him. The last time that they had made a deal, well, she had not kept to her word
though being a teenager at the time hadn’t helped the situation. The poltergeist must have seen what he
was looking for because he swiftly released her jaw and pulled away.
Standing up, he cracked his knuckles and gave his new fiancée a Cheshire cat grin and a wink, while
amusement and what seemed like excitement colored his tone. “It’s showtime.” The poltergeist snapped his
fingers and blinked quickly out of sight, leaving the young mother with her thoughts.

Chapter 2
AN: Okay, so my usual updates won't be as quick as this, but I couldn't resist throwing this one up. I just
felt that there really wasn't enough interaction between Betelgeuse and Lydia in the first chapter. I
needed more, hell, you needed more, so here the chapter is.

***

Chapter 2

***

Lydia wasn’t sure how long it had been since Betelgeuse had disappeared, though the threats and the
banging had ceased some time ago. She couldn’t help but wonder what the poltergeist had done to the
abusive fuck. A tiny part of her, the small sliver of revenge, wished that she had been there to see it
through. Taken slightly back by the line of thinking, the young mother shook her head to try and loosen
the dark thoughts. A sigh escaped her, while she rested her cheek on her child’s head, and waited for the
dead man to say it was all well and good.
As Lydia waited, she mused over the situation that she had landed herself in. She didn’t regret her
decision. No, if she had not called the poltergeist and agreed to his terms, Luke would have killed them
both that was for damn sure. The twisted abusive twat would have done it without a damn hesitation and
probably would have had some drugged-up crack whore help him dispose of their bodies. Lydia really
hoped that whatever Betelgeuse was doing to him was slow and fucking painful. Once again, she really
wished that she could have been there to watch the prick cry like a little bitch as he withered in pain.
Maybe Betelgeuse would have let her get in a few kicks of her own. She was disturbed by how blissfully
happy she felt at her thoughts. Shit, maybe she was more unbalanced than she had believed.
Groaning, she moved her thoughts once again away from the dark and dreary and went to her daughter;
Her beautiful and now silent child. It was peculiar, as soon as she had agreed to marry that dirty old
poltergeist, Lucy had instantly calmed down. Maybe that had something to do with the immediate wave
of peace that had settled into her being. It was like her mind knew they were safe with the dead man.
Lydia looked up when she heard the bathroom lock flip and watched as the door swung open to reveal her
soon to be husband. With his arms spread out widely, Betelgeuse stepped through the threshold dressed
in that tacky looking tux and grinned down at her. “Problem’s gone, Babes.”
The poltergeist stalked towards his wife-to-be and stopped inches from her. Leaning down, he reached out
and grabbed her arm to haul her to her feet. The dead man towered over the tiny woman and continued
to grin at her. “Now for your end of the bargain, Sweets.”
She swallowed roughly and squared her shoulders; a deal was a deal, and this time she wouldn’t back out
of it. Her gaze did turn to the floor-length mirror on the wall and caught her reflection. She was a
bloody mess and in no way fit to get hitched. Her face flushed with embarrassment as she turned back to
her fiancée. “I’m such a mess.” She looked down at her bloodied clothes, then back to him. “I’m not in any
way suitable for a wedding. I should try cleaning up, just a little…”
The young mother tried pulling away, but the poltergeist held firmly to her arm. “I got this, Babes.” He
snapped his fingers, and in seconds she was clean and dressed in red satin.
Her dark eyes moved back to the mirror, and she sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of her appearance.
‘Oh my…’ Lydia thought as she continued to eye her shocked image. The dead man had outdone himself
this time. Betelgeuse had removed all of the blood and replaced it with some smoky makeup while
throwing her hair up in a simple updo. As for her dress, it was not the hot mess that he had thrown her
in before. No, this time the dress was a formfitting red satin number with some black strappy heels. Dare
she say that she looked, well, beautiful.
A rattle sounded, drawing Lydia’s attention to her tiny daughter and noticed that Betelgeuse had
dressed Lucy in a swaddle of black lace. Her blonde hair was held together with a black beetle barrette.
She was also waving around a bat-shaped rattle, which she conveniently put in her small mouth. Lydia
smiled brightly and lifted Lucy, so she could fully see her. “Oh Lulu, look at how pretty you are. You look
just like a little bug.”
The petite woman continued to coo at her daughter, as a snort resounded from the dead man next to
them. He cocked his head and eyed the baby. “She does, doesn’t she? Well hell, that wasn’t my intention
but hey, must be destiny or some shit like that.” Betelgeuse plucked the little girl from her mother’s arms
and drew her snugly to his side. His green eyes seemed to sparkle, and he smiled at the child, while his
smoky voice soften. “Come on lil bug. We got a wedding to get to.” The poltergeist held his arm out for
Lydia, and she gave him a skeptical look. He rolled his eyes, before speaking, “Woman, I’m tryin’ to be a
gentleman here. Will ya go with it?”
A faint sigh escaped as she conceded and locked her arm around his. If it hadn't been for this poltergeist,
then Lulu and herself would have been dead. He had saved their lives, so she would cut the specter some
slack. After all, he was going to be her husband shortly. Her stomach performed a bunch of somersaults,
but her steps never faltered. It was normal to be nervous; it was her wedding day, and every bride had
some level of jitters. Wasn't it called cold feet? Even with the acrobatics tumbling wildly in her belly,
she would still keep her word and marry this man.
They made their way to what had used to be her living room and there just like before was the ugly
preacher man. The stout fellow cleared his throat and looked at Betelgeuse. “Are we ready to begin?”
The poltergeist grinned madly and nodded his head at the preacher “Yep. We are ready to go.”
Lydia's upper teeth sank into her bottom lip as she took a step back when some thoughts started to ping-
ponged around in her cranium. What if he hadn't really thought about what he was getting himself into?
It was a big responsibility taking care of a child. Was he up for the challenge? What if he regretted this
decision? Would he leave or was he planning on doing that anyway? Her stomach rolled once again, and
her hands twisted anxiously while stepping back some more.
He turned to look at her when he felt her pull away, a frown marring his rugged face. “You ain’t thinking
about backin’ out, are ya Babes?”
She shook her head and plucked up the nerve to voice her concerns. “Are you sure you want to marry me?
It’s just not me you would be getting, but Lucy as well.”
His green eyes went from her to her babbling daughter, then back with a firm nod. “I know what I’m
getting into. I don’t think you understand what it means for me to marry someone with a kid.”
Lydia cocked her head and asked her question. “So what does it mean for you?”
Betelgeuse shifted Lucy higher on his hip before he answered her. “This little bug will become mine. Not
just on paper, but she will have some of my juice running through her veins. She may have been his child,
but as soon as we say I do, she will be my flesh in blood.”
The nervous woman didn’t know what to say. He had caught her off guard by his explanation and was not
something that she was prepared for. “Okay, then.” Yeah, that pretty much summed it up.
He gave her an amused look, before turning away and grinning widely at the silent preacher. “Now we’re
ready. Let’s get this show on the road.”
The ceremony had gone faster than she had thought it would, and soon they were exchanging rings. Then
the ugly preacher was announcing them man and wife and for Betelgeuse to kiss his bride.
Lightning flashed outside when the poltergeist grabbed his wife around the waist, pulling her petite form
flush with his own as he swooped in to kiss her soundly. Her small hand latched onto his lapel to steady
herself, while her new husband plundered her mouth. It wasn’t a bad kiss, and it didn’t taste like she had
thought it would either. He tasted slightly of mint, which seemed to indicate that he must have tried to
clean himself up this time around, but underneath that, was an earthy and nutty flavor that she assumed
was what he normally tasted like.
When he pulled away, he gave her a serious expression as he spoke. “Babes, say my name.”
She nodded her raven head, as his name fell from her lips. “Betelgeuse…Betelgeuse…Betelgeuse…”
Each time she said it, the corners of his lips grew wider and wider until the third time came, and he was
still with them. His green eyes flashed brightly, and he swung her around as he whooped and hollered
with joy.
A small giggle erupted in between them, causing the dead man to stop and turn his attention to his new
daughter. The little girl grinned wildly up at them and swung her bat rattle around. Lydia caught her
daughter’s gaze and discovered that her once brown eyes were now hazel in color. The familiar jade of
the poltergeist now swirled in her big doe eyes and that caused the dead man to cackle with more joy. He
clicked his fingers and music sprang to life, as he began to waltz them around the room.
Lydia wasn’t sure how long that they had been dancing for, but when she looked down at a now quiet
Lucy, she realized that the child had finally fallen asleep. Looking up at her new husband, she cleared her
throat. “Betelgeuse.”
His piercing eyes found hers, and he grinned dopily. “Yes, my wifey poo?”
God, this man could be so corny. Her lips twitched, but Lydia kept her focus. “Lucy has fallen asleep.
Maybe we should put her to bed.”
The poltergeist nodded his head, though they didn’t stop dancing as they made their way to Lucy’s
bedroom. He twirled them around this way and that, stopping only when they made it to the child’s crib.
Lydia shook herself free and took the sleeping baby from his arms, then carefully tucked her into bed.
A soft sigh escaped as Lydia’s attention went to her unconscious child. She couldn’t help but smile at how
peaceful Lucy looked while she slept. Ah to be young and innocent and not have a care in the world.
‘Wouldn’t that be nice?’ Lydia mused to herself, as her husband’s hands went around her and rested on the
bar of the crib.
Betelgeuse moved his body closer, effectively caging her in between himself and the bed, while his chin
went to rest on her shoulder. His breath tickled the shell of her ear, and his gruff tone washed over her.
“She sure is a pretty thing, isn’t she?”
Lydia felt another smile bubbled forth and her raven head bobbed in agreement, “Yes, she is. You know, she
was the best thing to come out of that terrible situation. I can’t understand how something so sweet
could come from someone that horrible.”
She heard the poltergeist sigh again and what he said next caught her off guard. “Babes, just because
something so sweet comes from someone so terrible, doesn’t mean it was meant for that person.
Sometimes…they are just the bridge to something better.”
Wow. Who knew that he was so deep? Maybe there was something more to this dead man. Lydia peered
over her shoulder at him and sent a grin of her own. “You that something better?”
His shoulders shrugged, while he pulled away and twirled her from the crib then into his arms. “Not sure.
Maybe you’re something better for me. Not everybody gets a light, maybe ya both are mine.”
She felt her heart skip a beat and resisted the urge to melt like some lovestruck teen at his mushy words.
“You really do know how to sweet talk girl when you want to. I guess that was why you have been the
most eligible bachelor since Valentino.” Lydia flashed her new husband a smirk, as she remembered the
line that he had used on her when he tried getting her to marry him the first time.
Betelgeuse just laughed, not saying another word, while he swung them out of the room and back into the
living room. They slowly spun around the area, as a comfortable silence enveloped them.
The only sound other than the music was a content and tired sigh that had escaped the tiny woman when
her head went to rest against the shoulder of the quiet poltergeist. They leisurely swayed with the
tempo, as her eyes started to grow heavy and exhaustion finally settled into her weary body. The new
bride tried her hardest to keep her lids open, but soon she was lost to the darkness.

Chapter 3
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Beetlejuice franchise or co. nor do I make any money
from this. I only own my plot and Little Lucy. Other than that, I don't own squat and I only use the
characters for my own twisted amusement.
-I wasn't going to post until later in the week, but it was burning a hole in my metaphorical pocket and I
had to post it.-

***

Lydia woke with a start, pulling herself up in her bed and glancing at the clock. It was just past 6 in the
morning, and usually, she would have been woken up by Lucy by now. She rubbed her sleep crusted eyes
and yawned widely, causing her to wince in pain from her forgotten cut. She fingered the wound gingerly
as she remembered how it happened. The events from last night came back to her, and she couldn't help,
but look around the room for her new husband.
When Lydia realized that he wasn't there, she began to wonder where the dead man could have gone. Did
he do as she suspected and ditched them last night? She didn't understand the fierce pain at the thought
of the obnoxious poltergeist leaving. Rubbing at her chest while quickly shoving away the unexplained
feeling, the shaken female threw off the covers and climbed out of bed.
The young mother softly padded out of the door and made her way to her child's bedroom. Peering into
the crib, Lydia felt panic clawing at her heart when she noticed that Lucy was not in her bed. 'Oh my god,
where could she be?' Thought the frantic woman as her imagination came up with the worst-case
scenarios.
Hurrying out of the room and down the hall to the living room, Lydia slowed when she heard what
sounded like the television. She carefully padded into the room and paused in midstep when she spied an
unfamiliar big black Lazboy in place of one of her chairs. Slowly she resumed her paces and diligently
tiptoed to the furniture. Relief washed over her once she saw who it was in the overstuffed lounger.
There stretched out and snoring away was Betelgeuse with her tiny daughter splayed out on his chest,
her little snores echoing his larger ones.
The urge to capture the moment struck her, and she rushed to get her camera before either one of them
woke up. She came back with the device in hand and started quietly snapping away with it. It felt good to
be behind the camera again and to hear the soft clicking that followed her every move. Lydia couldn't
believe she had stopped something that she loved so much. She swore to herself that she would never let
anyone take what she loves away again.
A sigh pushed between her lips while she moved silently around the chair, hitting all of the angles with
her lens. Lydia hoped the pictures would come out, unlike the photos of the Maitlands, which had no feet
and all sheet. It really would be hard to explain how her daughter was just floating in mid-air. Plus, it
truly was a beautiful shot and would be a shame for it to end up going to waste.
Lydia pondered if it would be different since Betelgeuse himself wasn't like the rest. It was something
that she had to keep reminding herself. He wasn't like a regular entity, no he was an extremely
formidable poltergeist whose powers held no bounds. That was why he was feared and contained for that
very reason. Though looking at him laying with a tiny baby sprawled over his chest, he appeared harmless
and dare she say ordinary. The dead man just came across as any other father falling asleep with their
infant. Wasn't that what he was to Lucy as of last night? He said it himself; her tiny daughter now
carried some of his power becoming his biologically. He was her father now. Her stomach did somersaults
at the notion, and she bit the inside of her cheek as she thought on that.
The young mother had been positive he would have bailed on them as soon as the I dos were said. It was
blatantly clear with all the spouting years ago about his damn freedom, but the dead man had surprised
her by staying. Why? Why did the specter stay when he had the chance to run? He was now a free man,
and yet he stayed. This man was a walking contradiction, though maybe that's what he wanted people to
perceive. Maybe what she was witnessing was the real Betelgeuse. A smile stretched over her features at
the idea of being one of the few to see the real poltergeist, and she couldn't help but like it. The
unexpected feeling caught her off balance, and she quickly brushed away the stray thought, not wanting
to think more about the emotion. Turning away from the scene, Lydia carefully and quietly left the room
to put her camera back before heading to the kitchen to start breakfast.
Several minutes had passed before a tiny giggled floated in from the hallway followed by a deep and
gravelly laugh. Her head whipped to the entrance, and she strained to listen to the unexpected sounds. In
all the 5 months, Lydia had never seen her daughter become so taken by someone so quickly. The
poltergeist had plucked her up straight away, and Lucy hadn't made a single complaint. What was so
beguiling about this dead man? Frankly, it was like he was the flame, and they both were the moths. Had
he always been this fascinating and charming? Or had she just been too much of a teenager at the time to
recognize this side of him? Was there something more to it than just that?
The sounds of laughter and heavy footsteps interrupted her silent musing as they drifted closer to the
kitchen. Her deep brown eyes ripped from the doorway and returned to the stove to finish the rest of the
pancakes.
When his footfalls stopped, Lydia tipped her chin over a shoulder and studied the poltergeist leaning
against the doorframe with their child clinging to his side. At the sight of the dead man, all thoughts
fled as she took his tall physique in the fresh morning light. The woman noticed that he wasn't wearing
either of his suits, but well a fitted white tee shirt and a pair of black and white striped sleep pants.
Lydia had to admit the man's suits did not do any justice and made him look out of shape. What the
newlywed was seeing now was anything but. 'Wow, he sure looks good for a dead guy.' mused Lydia
silently as the man sent her a knowing grin and greeted her huskily, "Mornin' Babes."
She flashed him a nervous smile returning the greeting, before pointing the spatula at the high chair,
"Morning. You can put LuLu in her chair," then she flicked the utensil to the full coffee pot next to her.
"There's coffee if you'd like some."
Another grin was sent her way while Betelgeuse pushed himself off the wooden frame and padded to the
high chair placing the small child securely in the seat. He ruffled the little girls crown then made his
way slowly to the coffee pot.
Lydia stiffened when he saddled up behind her and reached up to grab a mug from the hooks above.
"Excuse me, Sweets." His cool breath tickled the shell of her ear as he pulled himself away.
Fighting the flush of color that wanted to bloom, the flustered mom eyed the poltergeist and could have
sworn she saw him grinning like a mad fool. "Where did you get the manners?" quipped Lydia keeping her
gaze trained on the last pancake and not the man next to her.
Betelgeuse snored ungracefully and poured himself a steaming cup of coffee before answering. "I've
always had them, Babes. I just use them when I feel they are deserved."
Unsure of what to say Lydia bobbed her raven head, before returning to the stove to switch it off and
plate the last pancake. She set the pan and spatula to the side then grabbed the two large platters of food
and hurried to the table to place them in the center.
Twisting around to go back to grab Lucy's breakfast, her eyes lit up in surprise when Betelgeuse came up
behind her with the small bowl. He scratched the back of his neck and lifted the bowl as he spoke. "I
thought you might need this."
"Thanks," said Lydia with a shy smile then motioned towards the waiting food. "I didn't know if you'd be
hungry or not, so I made a little bit of everything." She claimed a seat next to her daughter and
continued. "So if you're famished, please dig in."
He found a seat at the end of the table and gave her another wolfish grin while rubbing his belly. "I'm
always hungry, and I'll eat anything you give me, sweetheart. I do mean anything…" He leered sleazily
at her, then laughed as he dished himself some food.
Rocking her gaze to the tiled ceiling, Lydia tossed a balled-up napkin in his direction and thought dryly.
'And here I was starting to think he was a gentleman.' She released a small snort and turned to Lucy who
was watching Betelgeuse with rampant interest. Clearing her throat, she called Lucy's name, drawing her
notice and began to feed the child the rice cereal.
Sometime later, Betelgeuse's rough voice sprang out and asked a question that he must have been dying to
ask from the very beginning. "So, Babes, How'd ya hook up with that piss ant from last night? You don't
look like the type to get mixed with that type of guy."
Lydia's head came up sharply at his enquiry, a frown marring her lips, while she took her time answering
him. "I met Luke after I was out of college. I had some of my work in a gallery, and it became a big
success. I was introduced to him by a friend at one of the gallery parties." Her somber eyes turned to the
dark liquid in her cup, and she swirled it around while she spoke. "I thought he was a nice guy, but I was
wrong, so terribly wrong. I…never thought that I would be one of those women that get sucked in by
some abusive twat. I thought that I would be able to recognize the signs and avoid a relationship like
that." A snore left her as she continued to stare at her cup. "By the time I realized how toxic our
relationship was, it was too late. I was so isolated and scared that I wasn't sure what to do."
She glanced at Lucy for a few seconds then went back to her cup, fingering the rim. "When I found out
that I was pregnant, I was so happy. I thought that Luke would feel the same; he didn't though. He
demanded that I have an abortion, but I told him I wouldn't do that. I couldn't do that, and we argued.
When I wouldn't back down on the subject, he kicked the shit out of me. I don't remember anything after
that. I don't even remember driving to the hospital, but according to the nurses I did. I stumbled into the
emergency battered and bloody collapsing right on the floor. I had my purse with me, and they were able
to figure out who I was. My parents were still on my emergency contact list. I never thought about
taking them off, and to be honest, it never crossed my mind. The hospital called them to let them know
that I was there then they called the police, but I was too scared to tell them who did it to me."
Her eyes misted over, and it became challenging to speak. "You know I always thought Delia didn't care a
lick for me, but that day I had never seen her so upset. She looked at my dad and told him to get her some
coffee which he did reluctantly. As soon as he vacated the room, she turned to me with her hands on her
hips and asked me outright if it was Luke. I was still too frightened and refused to tell her. My
stepmother has never been extremely warm and motherly to me, but I'll never forget what she uttered
that night. She looked me in my eyes and said, Lydia Deetz, you tell your mama who did this, so she can fix
it!"
Lydia lifted the coffee to her parched lips and drank deeply, before setting the drink on the table and
started to speak once more. "I was so shaken from her words because Delia had never called herself my
mother. Sure, she said stepmother many times, but it was never just mom. I hadn't realized Delia had any
type of maternal feelings for me. I honestly thought she saw me as my father's child and not hers. I was
completely wrong."
The young woman ran a shaky hand through her hair while chuckling lightly as she recalled the memory,
"All I could do was just nodded my head, and I told her the truth. After my confession, she convinced me
to tell the police, so they could arrest Luke for what he had done. The police left me with the paper for
the protection order to fill out. Since my writing hand had been broken during the attack, Delia helped
me with it. We got a judge to sign the protection order, and when I was finally released, I went home
with my parents. I stayed there until Lucy was born then bought the house we are in right now. I
thought that with a new place and the convenient disappearance of Luke that I was safe. I thought that
maybe I was rid of him."
Betelgeuse's light brows rose at her words, and Lydia knew where his thoughts were heading. Pieces of
shit like Luke don't give up that easily. She should have known that and apart of her did. It had just been
easier to pretend she was safe, and he was gone for good. "Don't get me wrong I was still cautious at the
time, you know looking over my shoulder and making sure the locks were kept locked. I began feeling like
everything was going to be okay and fell back into that security. He must have been watching me that
whole time and was just waiting for me to let down my guard. Last night was the first time I'd seen him
since the attack."
The silence stretched between them for some time before the poltergeist spoke, and it was not what
Lydia expected, "I don't remember much about my life before I died. Sure, I remember my death and that
I was a right prick at times, but the rest is a fucking blur. The only other thing that I remember is an
oath I swore to myself. I swore that I would never raise my fists in anger to any women or child. I can
only reckon that I'd seen some shit in my mortal life that no one should see and a part of that stayed
with me even in death." His cold hand reached over the tabletop and touched hers, causing her to meet
his green gaze. "What he did to ya babes, you don't have to worry anymore. He'll never get the chance to
hurt ya again." He snapped his fingers, and a bunch of papers appeared on the table in front of her.
Surprised by the sudden appearance, her wide gaze dropped to the documents and gingerly picked one up
to read. The stunned woman couldn't believe what she was reading. The papers within her grasp were
termination of parental rights, and they were all signed by Luke. Her mouth dropped open, and she turned
to her husband raising the papers with an unsteady hand. "Is this really his signature?" asked Lydia in
disbelief. How did Betelgeuse coax Luke into signing it? Was it even his signature or did her husband
magically forge it?
A sneer ripped out the poltergeist, and a pure look of pure disgust hit his features "Damn straight it is.
It's the least the little bitch could do for ya."
It was the least that he could do. Yes, it was, and she was so thankful for getting the poltergeist
involved. Words caught in her throat while a sheen of liquid glazed her brown eyes, Lydia lowered her
gaze to the table blinking away the unshed tears. Setting down the termination papers, she then reached
out and picked up the other document. This one was their marriage certificate for the mortal world.
"Why would we need this?" probed Lydia with a frown.
Betelgeuse drank his coffee and kicked back in the chair, balancing on the rear legs. "We live in the
mortal world, sweets, and I assumed that it would make shit easier for you and me."
That made sense and would make it easier should anyone question their marriage. She fingered the paper
some more than finished reading the rest. Lydia noticed that the line where Betelgeuse name should
have been it was replaced by another. Printed on the page was the unfamiliar name of Benjamin Geist. Her
brow rose as she questioned her husband, "Why does it say Benjamin and not Betelgeuse? Was that your
name when you were alive?" She didn't need to ask where the Geist part came from that was self-
explanatory.
He just shrugged his broad shoulders and continued balancing on the back of the legs. "Hell, if I know. It
was the first name that popped in my head. For all that I know it could have been, and it's easier to have
an alias to get around in the mortal world. Plus, the fewer people who know my real name the better."
The young mother set down their marriage certificate on top of the termination papers and grabbed the
last bundle of documents. Her hands shook as she read what they were and turned her surprised eyes to
his relaxed form. "Why?" she enquired softly then flicked her gaze to the small child in the high chair
before returning to the bottle green regarding her quietly.
The poltergeist's light brows shot up, and he gave her a look of do you really have to ask but answered
her anyway. "She is my kid now, and it would make sense that I would want it to be legal in the mortal
world."
Lydia didn't know how she felt about all this. It was not what she had expected. Hell, he was not what she
expected. Just who was this man she now called her husband? She shook her head and laid the adoption
papers with the rest.
"Ya done Babes?" He asked her while cocking his blonde head to the side and pointing at the stack of
papers.
She gave him a quick bob of her head, and Betelgeuse snapped his fingers, making the papers disappear. He
then turned to look at the watch on his inner wrist and stood up, juicing himself into his striped suit. He
made his way to her side and bent down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek before straightening. "Well
Babes, work calls. I'll be back later tonight." He made his way to Lucy, kissing her on the head and ruffling
her already messy hair. "I'll be back kid; be good for your mama." Lucy just babbled wildly and giggle up at
her new father. He let out a laugh of his own before winking out of sight.
Lydia's eyes lingered on the spot where he had just been and reached up to graze the place where his cool
lips had landed. The skin tingled under her fingertips, and she couldn't help the twitch of her lips. A
bubble of laughter spilled out seconds later as she continued to finger the spot. That man was always
catching her off guard and throwing her for a freaking loop. He definitely was not what she expected, and
the more she learned about this man, the more she questioned what she really knew about him. Just who
did she marry and what the hell did she get herself into?

***

I hope you are all liking my take on Betelgeuse. I always thought there was more to the dead man than
all of his crude and obnoxious behavior. I really want to show that Betelgeuse is capable of caring for
someone other than himself. Sure, he is a right selfish prick, but once he cares for something, he does it
with every fiber of his being.
As for my story, I'm trying to keep the focus on the family dynamic along with the ups and downs that
come with it. There will be drama but nothing crazy or significant. I will also have sexual content since it
is a healthy and realistic occurrence in a relationship, and it just doesn't feel right to leave it out. Also,
if you all haven't noticed, there will be a good amount of swearing throughout this fic. I cannot be held
responsible for what my twisted and depraved mind comes up with. Expect some dirty things to transpire
when the mood calls for it. XD
If you enjoyed the chapter, please feel free to leave me a review. I like to know how my readers are
enjoying my work. Plus, I'm human, and I like the ego stroke.

Chapter 4
Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with the Beetlejuice franchise and co. nor do I make any
money from this. I only like to use them for my own twisted amusement
-I wanted to wait a little longer, but I have no freakin' self-control and had to post this. I think I just
want everyone to enjoy my story as much as I do. <3 <3 -

***

It had been two months since that fateful night, and the newly established family had gotten into a
routine of sorts. The poltergeist it seemed truly was a creature of habit and didn't mind the doldrums of
daily life as long as he retained his freedom.
When Betelgeuse wasn’t ‘working’ and Lydia thought that loosely since she didn't know what he did
during the day; the poltergeist was helping her to take care of Lucy, and she had to admit the man was a
decent husband and father. 'It could have been worse,' mused Lydia as Luke came to the forefront of her
mind. Oh yeah, it could have been much worse. At least she wasn't alone in all this, and Betelgeuse didn't
seem bothered by the weight of the responsibility. Plus, the dead man always had their daughter within
his grasps, and Lucy seemed to prefer it that way as well. As soon as the tiny infant noticed that the
specter was home, she would fuss until he scooped her into his arms. Their daughter would be glued to his
side until she fell asleep. It was apparent the duo had a very strong and close bond and warmed Lydia’s
heart immensely every time she observed their interactions.
Another part of their routine was their eating schedule and how it vastly differed from the one Lydia
experienced growing up. She had seen more take out boxes than homemade food, and maybe that was why
she got into that routine of making homecooked meals. Maybe she wanted her family to be different, hell
they were different. So that was why every morning she would get up and make them all breakfast.
After Betelgeuse would leave for work and pop in later for lunch, then go back to whatever he had been
doing until dinner time. Weirdly, it worked for them.
The last of their routine was after dinner, where they usually ended up in the living room watching
either a tv show or some kind of movie. Most of the time, Lydia would be curled up on the couch with a
blanket, while Betelgeuse sprawled out in his worn chair with Lucy sleeping soundly on his chest.
Tonight, was just like any other night for the little family. After some debate, they ended up watching
some raunchy comedy that she would never have given a chance to but had to admit that it was quite
funny. Not that she would tell him that. The dead man’s ego was large enough as it was, and it didn’t need
any more inflating.
The phone beside her sprang to life, and Lydia quickly reached over to answer it. "Hello?" She greeted
into the receiver and continued to watch the movie on the screen while waiting for a response.
“Pumpkin! How are you and my granddaughter doing?” Her dad’s jovial voice echoed in her ear.
A smile sprang forth, as his warmed tone washed over her. Oh, how she missed her father, even if he was
a little high strung, and let her stepmother boss him around the majority of the time. “Hi, dad. We’re both
doing great. How are you and Delia? How’s Barbara and Adam?” She asked while praying her father hadn't
heard the loud Hiya Chuck that came from Betelgeuse. Lydia glared at her husband sending a rude
gesture his way, only for him to return it with a flash of that obnoxious grin of his. He was enjoying this
and wanted her to get caught so she would have to tell them. Not that the newlywed was ashamed of
being married to the dead man. To tell the truth, she just didn't want to deal with the shit storm that
was her folks right now. It simply wasn't the right time. The cheeky poltergeist said some more things,
and it caused her to cover the receiver with a hand and whisper to him sharply. “Not funny asshole.
Knock it off.”
He just kept on grinning obnoxiously and turned back to the movie, purposely laughing noisily at the
funny parts. She sent the poltergeist the evil eye, and another rude gesture then returned to the
conversation that she wasn’t even listening to. From what she could gather, everyone was fine and
dandy. Lydia talked to her dad for a couple more minutes, until work called, and he had to let her go.
Once she said goodbye and hung up the phone, her despicable jerk of a husband spoke up from his chair.
“When ya gonna tell them about us, Babes? It’s already been two months, and it’s just gonna get longer.”
The young mother glared at the man once again and crossed her arms under her chest, her tongue heavy
with frustration and sarcasm. “I have already told you that I will. I just have to find the right time. It’s
not like they have the greatest track record with you. You know with you terrorizing them and all.”
The poltergeist let out a loud huff and popped out of sight for a few minutes, only to come back childless
and with a long neck in his hand. “You don’t have to get all bitchy about it, Sweets.”
“I’m not getting bitchy about anything, and I’m not going to debate about this again.” She turned her
attention to the tv, trying to get back into the movie and ignoring her irritating husband.
He snickered vigorously and took a swig of his beer. “Why does it have to be a debate? I ain’t debating,
sweetheart, I’m pointing out the motherfuckin’ facts. I’m your husband and the father of your child.
You’re gonna have to tell the in-laws, cuz if they come for a surprise visit, I’m sure as hell not gonna
leave my home to hideout somewhere!”
Her angry gaze didn’t leave the screen, even though he was ruffling her feathers, though she did spew
some heated words back at him. “Who said you had to leave if they did visit? I sure as hell didn’t!”
“You sure about that babes.” He shot back from his chair, sarcasm clear in his tone.
Lydia growled from the couch and swung her heated glare his way. “Of course I wouldn’t ask my husband
to leave our home. You know I wouldn’t do that, quit being an asshole.”
“Babes, I’m only an asshole, cuz you don’t like what I’m tellin’ ya. Hell, what I’ve been tellin’ ya. Not that
ya listen to me, ya stubborn woman!” The dead man snarled before taking another long draw from his
drink.
“Ha! I’m stubborn, says the man who won’t lay off his wife!” snarked Lydia slapping the arm of the couch
with an open palm.
“Damn right I won’t back off about this! You’re my wife, and lil bug is my kid. I don’t want anyone comin’ in
here and tryin’ to take that away. She’s mine, and so are you!” He sneered possessively with his green eyes
burning bright and finished off his beer then juiced the empty bottle out of sight.
What now they were his things? He did not own them, the fucking dillhole! Lydia stood swiftly and
hissed as she passed his chair. “We’re not your fucking possessions, damn it!” Stomping to the kitchen and
going directly to the sink, she turned on the taps and started to fill the basin with hot soapy water.
Muttering every curse word that she could come up with, Lydia began to toss in the dishes a little too
hard.
The angry housewife stiffened when her husband slid up behind her, hands resting on either side of the
sink caging her in. His smoky voice and cold breath hit the shell of her ear, causing a hot shiver to shoot
down her back. “You’re not my FUCKIN’ possessions. You’re my wife, and she’s my kid. I’ll do what I think is
best to keep you both fuckin’ safe.”
Lydia turned off the water, then somehow twisted around so that her chest was flush with his own and
glared up at him. “And my parents would do that?”
He leaned in and growled lowly. “Fuck yeah they would, Sweetheart! Them and those goody-goodies! I
won’t have anyone dead or alive comin’ between us. Fuckers, thinking that they know what is fuckin’ best
for us when the bitches don’t know shit!”
A frown appeared while her forehead furrowed, and the anger she had been feeling disappeared as fast as
it had come. “Betelgeuse, I wouldn’t let them you know that, right? You are my husband, and I am on your
side.” She had taken vows with this man, and she would honor those promises of staying faithfully by his
side just like he was doing with her.
The dead man in front of her let out a sigh of relief, as he cupped her cheek tenderly and touch his
forehead to hers. “I may be a loose fuckin’ cannon and dangerous as all hell, but I’d never hurt either of
you. No matter what anyone of those assholes say, I’d never do that. Not to you and definitely not to
Lucy. You’re fuckin’ safe with me. You’ll always be safe.”
Releasing a deep breath that she hadn’t realized she had been holding, Lydia tried to reassure her
husband. “I know you wouldn’t hurt us. You are a good husband and father, Betelgeuse. All you have done
from the start is take care of us.”
He pulled away to stare into her coffee-colored eyes as his cool thumb ran slowly across her bottom lip.
She could see him internally debating over something before hearing him whisper to himself. “Fuck it,” he
said, and in a flash, the poltergeist was moving swiftly in capturing her mouth roughly with his own.
Taken back by the kiss for a few seconds, Lydia snapped out of her shock, throwing her arms carelessly
around his neck while deepening the kiss.
Quickly the heat between them spread like wildfire, and they both found themselves stumbling to the
closest flat surface. Lydia found herself sitting on the edge of the kitchen table, nightshirt pulled over
her thighs, and her panties drawn to the side giving Betelgeuse ample room to slide into her heated core.
Her tiny hands desperately gripped onto his muscled forearms, nails digging into the pearlescent flesh.
She fought the blush and a moan that wanted to break free from all the filthy things the poltergeist was
whispering in her ear.
His fingers pressed into the delicate tissue of her ass, all the while moving inside the silky channel with
the same rate as their blazing passion.
The mating had been both fast and furious, and it had left Lydia coming harder than ever before. She
cried out his name as her hot sheath tightened around his throbbing member. It didn’t take the dead man
long to follow and moaned lowly in her ear while he came with the same intensity as she had, “Fuck
Babes…Just fuck…”
Groaning, she flopped back onto the table and watched as the poltergeist carefully lean in and buried his
face into the juncture of her slim neck. A pleasurable sigh slipped passed her swollen lips, and a hand
came up to run some fingers through his wild hair. The couple stayed like that for some time before
Betelgeuse hauled himself up resting on his forearm and grinned dopily. His green eyes blazed brightly, as
he let out a wolfish whistle and wiggled his brows. “Well hell, Sweets, I was not expecting that.”
An exhausted giggle escaped the woman who then nodded lazily in agreement. “So not expected, though I
think we both needed a little de-stressing.”
“Shit Babe, you de-stressed me alright.” He saucily winked, causing his wife to giggle some more before
pushing him off her.
After they both had righted their clothes, Betelgeuse gave her another wink, and a laugh bubbled forth
as he grabbed at her nightshirt and tugged her to him. “Babes, how about us go de-stress some more?” He
wiggled his eyebrows, and she leaned up on her tiptoes, brushing her lips lightly against his whispering
teasingly. “Okay.” Another giggle sprang out of her as she hastily retreated from his form and hurried to
the doorway.
The poltergeist adjusted himself in his pajama pants and groaned, “Well, fuck me.”
Lydia paused at the doorframe, tilting her head over her shoulder, and producing a shameless smirk.
“Baby..” Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly, and her voice dropped to a low and sensual lilt, “that can be
arranged…”
For a few seconds, he was stunned by his tiny wife’s forwardness but quickly bounced back to his senses,
the timbers of his tone became smokier and flashed her a predatory grin. “Is that so Babes…”
Her brown eyes widened as she watched his stormy gaze suddenly flash wildly and his grin broadening to
that of a hunter hunting his prey. It caused a shiver of excitement to run through her. A sharp squeak of
a surprise left her lungs as the instincts urged her to hightail it away from this dangerous man.
Betelgeuse slowly stalked towards the woman his pearlescent skin seemed to glow brighter with each
closing step. Another squeal of surprise left the young mother, and she felt herself matching his steps
with backward ones of her own. His grin became even wider, clearly amused by her actions but never
pausing in his pursuit. He watched his prey become twitchy, a sure sign that she was about to bolt. A
barking laugh exploded from him as his hand shot out just as she was ready to flee. He quickly drew her
firmly to him and crashed his mouth to hers before swiftly blinking them both out of sight.

***

-I told you that I couldn't be held responsible for what my twisted little mind comes up with, though the
interaction between Betelgeuse and Lydia were dead (ha) on with what I had in my head for this chapter.
:) I want to give a big shout out to all of you that have left a review, you rock and I am so glad you are
liking my interpretation of Betelgeuse and his relationship with Lydia.
Oh before I go I would like to recommend a Betelgeuse and Lydia webcomic, it's called Cobweb & Stripes.
It's a really good story and the art is unique and refreshing. It's not done, but the artist does update
every Sunday with a new panel. If it's something that you may be interested in, you can find it here
cobwebandstripes. deviantart. com ️-just take out the spaces.
Well as always I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and please drop me a review. -

Chapter 5
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Beetlejuice franchise and co. nor do I make any money
from this. I only like to use them for my own twisted amusement and that is payment enough.
- Just a short filler with Lydia's thoughts and some more interaction between the couple, also with a
small splash of the reality of parenthood. Kids always do have the damnedest timing :) -

***
Scrubbing at the dirty cup in hand, Lydia thought on the events that had transpired last night. She had
sex; lots and lots of hot and vigorous sex with Betelgeuse. It really shouldn’t have surprised her with all
the sexual tension that had been smoldering for the last two months. Both tried to push the attraction to
the side and ignore it while they took care of their child, but It had been only a matter of time before it
ignited into a roaring fire. Boy did it ever burn.
A flush of color rushed to her cheeks, and a groan flew out of her mouth when one foot shifted to
another, causing the tender flesh to ache. 'Damn.' Whined the woman while fumbling with the cup in hand.
After breakfast, she would need to grab some pain relievers before going about the rest of the day. Never
had she ever been this sore nor had she been contorted into so many positions in one night. Hell, she
didn't think she ever had sex all night long period.
The last two sexual partners she had cared more about their needs than her own. They also could only do
the deed once, and the sex was rather vanilla compared to what she and Betelgeuse had done.
The dead man was like an energizer bunny; he had an abundant amount of energy and knew how to use it.
No wonder the specter was so full of himself because he knew exactly what he was capable of between the
sheets. Betelgeuse had other brag-worthy assets, and she was surprised that the poltergeist hadn't
started crowing about that as well. Lydia could imagine him joking about massive packages and how he
could relate. She softly snickered while rinsing off the cup then setting it on the rack to dry before going
back for another dirty dish.
Cold lips gently kissed her neck, causing the distracted woman to jump and drop the plate back into the
soapy water. His deep chuckle shook her as he bent down to whisper in her ear, “Good mornin’.”
Her cheeks bloomed with more color, as his lips traveled up her throat. He lightly brushed along her
sensitive lobe, earning a throaty moan and pleasurable jolt to her already throbbing core. “Betelgeuse…”
she groaned as his large hands gripped her waist and spun her around to face him. Leaning his blonde
head towards her own, she watched as his rugged face came down and caught her lips. Lydia kissed him
back with the same intensity that he was showing her. Hastily, she flung her arms around his neck while
he gently shoved her back against the sink.
When he finally pulled away, his deft fingers reached up and carefully brushed the tips lightly across
her cheek. His hand softly cupped her jaw as his thumb ran along her bottom lip, peering down at her with
concern. “How ya feelin’, Babe?”
She leaned into his touch and gave him a small smile. “A little sore, but nothing I can’t handle.”
He leaned in again, his lips just hovering over hers as he spoke. “Good, cuz there’s some things I forgot to
show ya last night.” His grin turned wolfish when her lips parted breathing hitched while her face
flushed even more. He trailed slowly from her mouth to her ear, his husky voice sending a shiver down
her spine. “Plus baby, I wanna see how many times I can make it rain.”
Lydia felt her legs tremble and the throbbing in her core magnified. Bloody hell, she had never been so
turned on by just mere words. Her blush spread from her face, moving quickly down to her chest.
His green eyes followed the colorful trail to the curves of her breasts, mischievously grinning while
ghosting a finger over the fleshy mounds.
At the touch of her husband, the young woman shivered, and before she could open her mouth to respond
a sharp squeal resounded throughout the room. They both winced and swiftly focused their attention to
the table where hazel eyes stared at them in amusement. Her little hands struck the top of the high
chair tray, clearly advising her parents to pay attention to her and not to one another.
A flustered Lydia quickly stumbled out of her husband’s embrace and could have sworn she heard him
mutter under his breath something like, “Great. My own kid is cockblockin’ me.”
Smothering a giggle and shaking her head in amusement, she made her way to the oven where she had
stored the food earlier to keep it warm. Grabbing some oven mitts, Lydia turned off the oven then pulled
out the heated food. She kicked the door shut with a foot and carefully made her way to the table.
While Lydia had been grabbing the food, Betelgeuse had snagged Lulu’s bowl of sliced bananas and her
sippy cup from the fridge. He dumped the fruit onto her tray and sat her sippy so that it was within her
reach then ruffled the tuff of hair earning a little giggle.
Laughing, the poltergeist sat down and juiced two full coffee mugs, one in front of him and another in
front of the place where Lydia always sits. Picking the cup in front of him up, Betelgeuse took a long
draw as his still heated gaze watched her every move.
Heat rushed to her face once more, causing the newlywed to conceal the effect of his hungry stare by
dropping to the plated food in hand. Christ, she was getting turned on with just him staring at her as if
she were the breakfast. A breakfast covered in berries and whipped cream. 'Oh dear,’ thought the woman
while nibbling on her lip to hold the moan tickling the back of her throat.
Moving to the table, Lydia tried controlling the tremble as she placed the food on the glossy surface. She
then hurried to her designated seat covertly eyeing the man while doing so. Plopping down she
pretended not to notice as his nimble tongue darted out and slowly licked away a droplet of coffee left
on his lips. The action caused the flush to deepen and delivered another jolt of pleasure straight to her
core.
Biting back another moan, Lydia swore she spied the corners of his mouth twitch up in amusement. It was
as if he knew what he was doing to her. Knowing him, he did, and the sneaky bastard was enjoying every
moment. She wasn't sure if she should be annoyed or amused at the man, though the latter was winning.
Fighting the smile that wanted to break through, Lydia shook her head and tried to ignore the
provocations while reaching out to dish up some food.
Her cheeky husband continued with the heated and veiled smug looks throughout the meal, leaving the
young mother with a feeling that she was going to need all the energy she could get today.
That pleasant thought from earlier sprang to mind, and she wondered if they had any berries and
whipped cream in the fridge. If not, the newlywed could always persuade her husband to juice some; it
wouldn't take too much persuasion. Maybe remind him of what she did last night and how much better it
would be with something a little sweet and tarty. Just thinking about that had the juncture between her
thighs throbbing. Her dark gaze flickered to the dead man, the blush now replaced with a mischievous
curve to her lips.
Her husband's brows rose in question, but the woman just grabbed her cup of coffee and lifted the drink to
her lips, eyes twinkling over the rim. He would have to wait until Lucy's naptime to find out.

Chapter 6
Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with the Beetlejuice Franchise nor do I make any money from
this. I only own the plot and Lucy and like to borrow the other character's for my own twisted
amusement.
- Happy Friday! This chapter is longer than the last, but still short. Next couple of chapters will be
helluva lot longer than they have been, because there will be a lot of things going down and being
resolved.-
***

After the shift in their relationship, nothing seemed to change for the married couple. Well other than
having spontaneous and frequent bouts of sex. It should be noted that the occasional quickie, whenever
their daughter was napping, was added to their daily repertoire. On top of that, the poltergeist seemed to
be handsier. Though even before they were having sex, he had always touched her in little ways as much
as possible. Who knew the ghost with the most was such a touchy-feely kind of guy.
Currently, the couple was stretched out in bed blanket hung over their hips, basking in the silence. Lydia
snuggled into her husband's broad form while his arm draped across her waist, lightly stroking her
stomach in lazy circles.
The quietness of the house was a delightful change for the couple. All they have heard for the past few
nights were Lulu’s constant cries over the monitor. The usually happy go lucky child had been fussier
than normal, leaving her parents tired, confused and a little on edge. For the life of them, the duo
couldn’t figure out what was causing their daughter’s evident distress. Lydia thought that perhaps they
were coming down with something. After all, it was the season for it, and the young mother couldn’t
ignore the fact that she had started feeling slightly under the weather as well.
The poltergeist broke the silence by whispering in his tired wife’s ear. “Babe, why haven’t you told them
yet?” It was a simple question, but one that seemed to add to the already growing stress.
A long drawn out sigh shook her form as she turned to rest on her back peering up at him while her
brows furrowed in annoyance. For fuck’s sake, why did he have to bring that up now? Didn’t they have
enough on their plate? How many times have they discussed this and how many times did it end up with
them arguing? Damnit, she didn’t want to argue tonight. Hell, she didn’t want to argue with her husband
period! “Betelgeuse please, I’m not going to get into this with you again. Are you looking for a fight?”
snapped the woman a little too sharply.
His pale brows rose, and his hand left her side to raise in defense. “I’m just asking a question that’s all. I’m
not lookin’ for a damn fight, Sweets.”
Lydia’s face scrunched up her tone was even sharper than before. “Then why did you bring it up?” She
could see the tick in his jaw begin to flare, a sure sign that he was becoming irritated himself.
Pulling himself into a sitting position, Betelgeuse stared down at his wife with anger storming in his
green eyes. “We’ve been married for three fucking months now. Don’t ya think it’s about time that ya tell
them about us?”
She shot back her response, clearly not understanding why this was such a big deal. “Why do you want
them to know so badly?”
“Why the fuck not?” He sneered down at her in return, the tick in his jaw increasing with each passing
minute.
Lydia didn’t want to fight, and she didn’t desire to have this fucking conversation again. Didn’t he
understand how badly the situation could go? She wasn’t sure how her family was going to react to the
news. Hell, the months after the incident with the Bio-exorcist and the sham of a wedding, both couples
had made it clear about their feelings for the poltergeist. None of those opinions were warm and
welcoming.
That nauseous feeling she had been experiencing as of late suddenly returned. 'Oh no.' thought Lydia
while trying to hold back the unexpected sensation with a few swallows. Still, the urge didn't cease and
appeared to have gotten worse. If she didn't get out of the room, there would be dinner all over the
hardwood floor. Christ, she needed some air that seemed to help the last time. Throwing the covers off,
the newlywed twisted away from her upset husband to sit up. Carefully getting out of bed, Lydia threw
on her thick robe then quickly padded out of the room without another word. In the hallway, she could
hear the dead man swearing loudly either to himself or to her she wasn't quite sure.
Hurrying down the hall, Lydia approached a pair of french doors sucking in slight breaths to try and
settle her rolling stomach. When the ill woman reached the wide entrance, she flipped the deadbolt and
opened one of the doors enough to slip through. Stepping into the cool night, Lydia grasped the freezing
doorknob pulling it closed behind her before trailing to one of the screened-in windows. Her brown gaze
stared out at the darkened yard taking in several deep gulps of brisk air. Her arms came up to wrap
around her middle while she tried to fight off both nausea and the sudden urge to cry.
Her bottom lip quivered, and liquid began to well up in her tired eyes, causing her lids to blink rapidly to
attempt to force them away. Taking in several more breaths still hadn't chased the overwhelming
emotion she was feeling. Unwanted tears slid down her cheeks as she silently sobbed in the twilight. She
didn't understand why she was feeling like this and being so damn emotional. Could it be the stress or
maybe the lack of sleep? Why couldn't she stop crying? What the hell was wrong with her?!
The door behind her softly opened then closed, and the heavy footsteps of her husband echoed on the
wooden boards as he quietly approached. Lydia felt his arm snag her waist, drawing her to him so that
she was resting against his chest.
Betelgeuse wrapped his free arm underneath the other one and buried his face into her raven mane
before pulling slightly away to console her. “Ssh Baby, it’s okay. Fuck. Don’t cry, Sweetheart.” He kissed the
back of her head then continued to talk. “I didn’t mean to make ya upset, Babe. I just…I need to know…”
He hesitated for a second as if he were struggling to find the right words. His tone was one that Lydia
had never heard from the man ever; it sounded almost sad. “Sweets, are you ashamed of us? Is that why
you don’t want them to know?” asked the poltergeist softly.
The question and the unexpected emotion behind it threw her off-kilter, causing Lydia to cry harder.
God, she was such a terrible wife. How could she make her husband think that she was ashamed of them?
It wasn’t that at all. She was far from being ashamed and was proud to be his wife. Despite his awful
reputation deep down he was a good guy. Sure he could be an ass and was crude as hell, but the dead man
could also be caring and kind though that depended on who you were. Through her tears, she let him
know that being ashamed wasn’t the case. “I’m not ashamed of us not one bit.”
He slowly turned her around to face him, his forehead rested against hers, as he gently began to question
her. “Then what is it, Baby?”
She clung to the poltergeist and sighed, her voice small and soft, “I’m afraid.” Fuck, she was straight-up
terrified.
He pulled away brows furrowed in question while he stared into her dark eyes and continued gently to
push for answers. “Afraid of what, Sweets?”
Sniffling lightly, she bit at her trembling lip before resuming, "I'm afraid of how they will react. They've
made it bluntly clear that they don't like you. Hell, it is damn right hostile at times. I know that you
guys didn't have the greatest first impression of one another, but I want them to like you as I do!"
His green eyes hardened, and a heavy sigh left him while he let go of her waist moving his large hands up
to cup her face, “Babes, I know they don’t like me. I have no fuckin’ delusions about that, but I didn’t
marry you for their approval. If they can’t handle that shit, then that’s their loss. Baby, the important
thing here is that I make you happy and you make me happy. All the other shit is just superficial and
fuckin’ insignificant.”
Her sad gaze peered up at him a frown marring the delicate features as her tone dropped even softer
than before. “What if they no longer want to speak to me?”
At the sight of her sad expression, her husband’s eyes became frosty, and his voice hardened. “If they do
somethin’ like that then they’re a bunch of fuckin’ hypocrites and don’t deserve ya.” His hand moved to
the back of her head and tugged it gently to his chest while he lightly kissed her crown.
Lydia closed her eyes and took in a breath, as she thought about what the poltergeist had just said. She
knew he was right that there was nothing that she could do if they did decide to disown her. Her face
flushed with embarrassment from her ridiculous behavior, then buried it within the folds of his shirt. She
was acting like such a child. Christ, what was wrong with her? She pulled back some and tilted her head
up, so that her dark brown eyes met the jade ones of her husband, while a frown slid across her lips. “I’m
sorry I got so shook up, Honey. I know that you didn’t intend for that to happen. Damnit, I’m not sure
what’s wrong with me. I just haven’t been feeling very good. I think I might be coming down with
something.”
Betelgeuse let out another sigh and shook his blonde head. “Naw, I shouldn’t be pushin’ ya, Babe. I know
you will tell them when you’re ready. I’ll try to keep my hang-ups to myself, sweets, but I can’t always
promise. I’ve been told I can be an ass.”
“Yeah, you are, but I like you even when you are being an ass.” She yawned loudly and shivered from the
cool night air.
Drawing her closer, he slowly began to move them towards the entrance. "Come on, Babes, let's go back to
bed. If you ain't feelin' good, then you shouldn't be outside. Shit, it's colder than a witch's tits out here!"
quipped the dead man his bright eyes twinkling while he squeezed her gently to him then leaned in to kiss
her temple.
The bizarre mood that Lydia had been experiencing just a few minutes ago was gone as fast as it came. It
left the young mother now giggling at her husband antics and snuggling up to his side as he led them into
the warm house.

***

-I know that they had a fight about this already, but like anything that doesn't get resolved, well, it
keeps popping up until it does, especially if it is bothering one of the people involved and if you all
couldn't tell, it clearly had been bothering our resident poltergeist. Poor Betelgeuse. :(
Well, I needed this chapter to move to what is going to happen in the next chapter and where I want the
plot to go.
Like I have said before, I do love writing Betelgeuse and Lydia's interactions with one another and the
mundane things in life. There's not going to be a big ole baddy to deal with, but there will be shit that can
happen in everyday life; Drama from raising a kid, dealing with family and just life itself. Betelgeuse
wanted to be in the mortal world and I'm giving it to him.
Okay, not the next chapter, but the one after that will have more Lucy interaction, especially with
Betelgeuse. I cannot wait to share that with everyone. It is just too freaking cute. I really enjoy giving
the rough poltergeist a soft side. XD I like making him all warm and gooey, then have his mouth still
dirty as hell.
Well, I hope you all liked this chapter and please leave a review to let me know.
Have a good weekend!

Chapter 7
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Beetlejuice franchise nor do I make any money from this.

***
The next morning was like any other morning for the tiny family and no signs that the couple had even
argued the night before. The young mother made breakfast, as usual, then her husband took his leave with
a kiss and a wink.
After Betelgeuse had gone, Lydia had cleaned up their messy little girl then went about her daily
morning routines. About an hour before noon, she found herself carrying a basket of clean clothes into
the living room and dropping her butt on the couch. Setting the basket next to her, she turned to the side
table to grab the remote to change it to another kid's show that didn't want to make her throw up the
last of her breakfast. Her wandering gaze slid over the table and halted on the phone
Last night came to the forefront of her mind, and she sighed profoundly eyeing the phone some more. The
young mother wondered if it wouldn't just be better to call her family and get the shit over with. She bit
her lip and weighed her options: either they would be upset or wouldn't be? Plus, even if they did wind up
being mad at her, it wouldn't be the end of the world. Sure she would be hurt, but having her husband
there would help cushion the fall. Her dark eyes closed for a second then sucked in a few calming breaths
as she thought about her poltergeist and his words. Betelgeuse had been right when he said that all that
mattered was that they make each other happy and all the rest was insignificant. If her family couldn't
respect the way her life was heading, then they didn't deserve to be in it.
Okay, well hell, she was going to do it. She was going to call and tell them. Dear someone, please help her.
Reaching over, she picked up the phone and with shaky fingers, dialed her parent's number. Her heart
slammed against her chest as her hand became clammy while she waited for someone to pick up. The
phone rang in her ear once, twice, and by the third ring, the familiar voice of her stepmother came on the
line. "Hello Deetz residence, Delia speaking."
Suddenly her throat tightened, and Lydia found herself at a loss for words. Oh god, what was she
supposed to say? How the hell do you start a conversation about marrying your family's greatest foe?
Taking in a deep breath, she tried to shove the anxiety to the wayside and forced herself to greet her
stepmother. "H…h…hi Delia. Um…could you get Dad and the Maitlands? I have something I need to
tell you guys." Even though the nervous woman wouldn't be able to hear the ghostly couple over the
device, she wanted them there, nonetheless. It just felt wrong to tell her parents and not the Maitlands.
The ghostly couple deserved hearing it straight from her and not from Delia and her father.
On the other side of the phone, she could hear the panic that had taken over Delia's tone when she spoke
next. "Lydia dear, what is it that you need to tell us? Did something bad happen? Are you and Lucinda,
okay?"
The nerves she had been experiencing were hastily replaced with irritation as Delia ignored her request.
For fuck's sake, she just wanted to get this over with. The urge to snap at the woman was overwhelming,
but Lydia bit her tongue and tried to prompt the conversation along. "We're fine, I promise. I just have
something that I'd like to tell you guys. It is quite important though, so could you go and get them,
please?"
Her stepmother seemed to hesitate for a second as if she were going to push for more just like Delia
always like to do, but instead, she quietly agreed. "If you're sure that you're okay, then I'll go get them.
Just let me transfer you to your father's office."
Lydia appreciated the worry, but she and Lulu were good. Hell, they were more than good. "Okay, thanks."
The clicking sound of the changing of lines came then went. Suddenly her father came on the line and
called out to her. "Hello? Lydia? You there, pumpkin?"
Hearing her father's voice seemed to calm some of her nerves, and she relaxed slightly. "Hey, dad. How
you been?"
"I'm good. I just been busy with work and helping Adam with his model. Oh, your mother has me on a new
diet to help lower my blood pressure and…." She heard Delia cut him off by lightly snapping at him to
put the phone on speaker so that they all could hear her. Lydia listened to the pressing of buttons, then
her father's voice was back asking her a question. "Can you hear us, pumpkin?"
"Yeah, I can hear you just fine." Confirmed the young mother on the couch while she folded a shirt.
Delia's voice sprang out from the speaker and cut to the chase, "Now Lydia, my dear, what was it that you
wanted to tell us?"
The nerves that had died down began to flare up again and caused Lydia to swallow roughly before
continuing. "Well, you see. Um. I got married." There she said it, and it was like a ton of bricks had been
lifted from her shoulders. Wow, why didn't she do this before? Hmm, her husband had been right. She
wouldn't tell him that, though. No, she didn't need him gloating around the house and gloat he would.
Suddenly there was a lot of yelling on the other side of the line, triggering Lydia to pull the phone away
from her ear and cringe. "WHAT! WHEN? WITH WHO?" Her irritation reared its ugly head once again,
and she had to bite back the urge to snarl at them. Shit, they didn't need to fucking yell.
It was Delia's worried voice that asked the next question. "Lydia Deetz, you didn't marry him, did you?"
Lydia knew who the woman was referring to. After the incident, her stepmother had refused to address
Luke by his given name. She claimed he didn't deserve any respect for what he did her kid and grandbaby.
That was another time that Delia had shocked her with another round of unexpected revelations.
Lydia blew some stray hair out of her eyes before answering her worried stepmother. "No, I didn't marry
Luke and um.. it's Geist now, not Deetz."
"Geist? What kind of name is that? Just who is this man that you married?" Delia's voice shot out again,
and Lydia knew she couldn't tell them that she had married the poltergeist that had once terrorized the
family, especially over the phone. It just didn't feel right to blurt something like that. She had enough
respect for both to know they deserved the truth in person.
"Have we met him before, pumpkin?" She ignored her stepmother's questions and answered her dad. "Yeah,
you've met him before briefly, though it was a long time ago. We've been seeing each other for some time
now." So, she skirted around the truth on this one. It wasn't a lie, and it wasn't the full truth, but it
would have to do for the time being.
Delia quickly jumped in with another set of questions. "Why the shotgun wedding? Are you pregnant?"
Pregnant? Where did Delia get that? Why does everyone think that if you have a quick wedding, then
you must be pregnant? Sure, she hadn't been feeling good and was moody as hell, but that didn't mean she
was pregnant. Her nauseous stomach suddenly rolled, and Lydia paused in thought. No. That's not fucking
possible. She couldn't be. Right? Oh shit, shit, shit, shit! She didn't need this right now, not when she is
dealing with them. Her brain can only compute so much, and she was at her limit. Lydia shoved her new
revelation and the panic away denying the accusation. "No, I'm not pregnant, and the marriage was a spur
of the moment decision at the time."
"At the time?" The sound of Delia's tone had Lydia picturing the mature woman's lightly wrinkled face
scrunching up in displeasure while manicured hands rested on her hips as she continued sharply. "Just
how long have you been married for?"
Okay, now was the time that it might get messy. She ran her small hand through her dark strands and
hesitantly spoke. "Well, you see…we wanted to have time to get things settled before we told anyone.
We've been married for three months now…"
"WHAT!" More yelling came over the line, and Lydia winced. Seriously would they stop with the fucking
shouting?! She could hear them just fine without it.
The young woman once again pushed back her rising irritation and tried to smooth things over by
admitting defeat and throwing herself to the wolves. "Sorry, I really am! I know that it was a long time
to wait and tell anyone, but as I said, we wanted things to settle and have time to adjust. We would like
to come and visit so you can all meet. I was thinking soon if that is alright with you guys?"
The excited shout of Delia's overshadowed the voice of her father. "That sounds like a wonderful idea!
How about this weekend? Would that work for you both?" exclaimed the happy woman through the
speaker. Who knew that suggesting a meeting would be all that it would take for Delia to forgive her.
Lydia had no clue but agreed anyway to speed up the conversation. "Yeah, that should be fine. How about
Friday at noon?"
The sound of Delia clapping her hands together echoed in her ear, "Oh, that would be perfect. I'll make
lunch for us!"
Um. When did Delia start making lunch? When did Delia start cooking period? Lydia shook away the
thoughts and hurried to answer her waiting stepmother. "Sure…" She needed to get off the phone before
they realized that she never really told them anything about her husband. "Sorry to cut this short, guys
but Lulu seems to have woken up from her nap and is a little cranky. It was good talking to you all, and
we are sorry that we didn't let you guys know sooner. We will see you this weekend."
They seemed to buy the excuse easily and let her go with no more questions much to Lydia's surprise.
"Okay pumpkin…" Her stepmother cut off her father like always. "Lydia dear, we will see you this
weekend at noon and don't be late."
Lydia rolled her eyes while fighting the sarcasm weighing down her tongue. "We won't be. See you on
Friday. Bye." she chirped before hanging up and tossing the coreless on the basket.
'Oh my god.' Lydia thought to herself as she let out a ragged breath and fell back against the cushions. It
was over with, well part of it was anyway. It would be easier to handle them in person, and Betelgeuse
would be there to help her. He would help her, right? Shit, he would behave himself, wouldn't he? Fuck,
she really hoped so.
Her stomach rolled nauseously, bringing her back to the thoughts she had pushed aside and ignored. She
covered her arm over her eyes and bit her lip nervously. Pregnant? Was it even possible? Betelgeuse had
never said anything, so protection had never come to mind. Lydia assumed that they were okay on that
aspect. Shit, he was dead after all. The dead couldn't reproduce, right?
Another sigh left her, and her stomach rolled some more. Pregnant? Oh god, what were they going to do
if they were? They haven't even been married for that long and Lucy was only 8-months-old. Shit! Would
he be pissed? Would this be too much for him? Would he want to leave? Her stomach continued to churn
as she worried about how she was going to tell her husband and what the poltergeist would do.
Lydia wasn't sure how long she had sat there for, but it must have been for some time because she heard
her husband's voice calling for her from the kitchen. She quickly sat up and silently cursed herself.
Damnit, she had forgotten about lunch. The sudden urge to cry slammed into her, and she buried her face
in her hands. Ah, crap. Here was the roller coaster of emotions yet again.
"Babes?" She heard her husband come into the room, and the sound of his heavy boots slapping against the
wooden floor as he drew closer.
Once the poltergeist got to his distressed wife, he knelt and pulled her hands away from her face, his
tone infused with concern. "Baby? Hey, what's wrong?"
Tears pooled in her brown eyes, as her lip quivered, and she debated on which subject she should go with
first. Yes, her parent and the visit were important but not as important as the possibility that she could
be pregnant. "I…" Swallowing thickly, she struggled to carry on. "I think… I might…" She hiccupped
and cried some more, as she continued. "be pregnant…"
The poltergeist froze, his mouth dropping open for a few seconds before he shook his blonde head and
questioned his tearful wife. "Come again, Babes?"
She tried to repeat her words through the tears and the sniffling.
"I…think…I…might…be…pregnant."
"Pregnant?" Betelgeuse parroted but said nothing else as he stared at her in shock.
Lydia shook her raven head and peered at her stunned husband, confirming his words. "Yes, pregnant."
"Pregnant?" copied the man blinking owlishly.
Nodding her head, she just replied with another confirmation in a hushed voice. "Yeah…Maybe…"
Several minutes passed, and Betelgeuse still hadn't said anything back. He just continued to stare blankly
at her as if his mind had crashed and required a reboot.
The overwhelming sadness that suddenly swamped the small woman mere minutes ago began to dissipate
just as quickly. It left her with red eyes, a stuffy nose, and a severely shaken husband. Her forehead
crinkled in worry as she watched the unusually silent specter. Normally, Lydia couldn't get this man to
shut up and now, well he was quiet as the dead. The irony was unlost on the woman while she continued
eyeing the stunned man in concern as thoughts ran rampant. Why was he being so quiet? Shit! Did she
break her husband? Oh my god, did she just break the most powerful poltergeist by telling him she might
be pregnant? She pulled her hand from his and raised it to his face, whispering to him, "Betelgeuse?"
His name seemed to snap him out of the shock, and his green eyes flicked back to hers. He licked his lips
while struggling to swallow. "Pregnant?"
Even though she felt relief when her husband finally responded, teeth dug into her bottom lip as he
continued saying the word over and over. Was he still broken? Why did he keep on saying that? She
observed him running a shaky hand through his light locks mumbling the word some more and felt the
urge to laugh. The situation itself wasn't funny, though Lydia was beginning to see the irony in it.
Moments before she had been hysterically sobbing all the while her ghostly partner knelt in front of her
stuck-on repeat. Lydia bit more of her lip to try and stop the amusement that wanted to surface only to
fail miserably when a bunch of giggles spilled violently passed.
The poltergeist watched as Lydia suddenly broke out into a fit of laughter. He soon found himself barking
out a laugh of his own at the absurdity of it all. When they both settled down, Betelgeuse sat back on his
heels and thought about what his little wife had told him. "So, you could be pregnant?"
Lydia ran her hand through her hair and answered softly. "Yeah. I didn't think about it until Delia had
said something and the more I thought about it, well it does kind of fit. I haven't been feeling good, and
I've sure as hell been moodier than usual."
The poltergeist wasn't going anywhere near that shit, and instead, he commented on the part about her
stepmother. "So, you talked to Red?"
Her head angled to the side and brows furrowed deeply trying to remember what had been said. Did she
say she talked to Delia? Oh shit. Well, she had wanted to focus on one issue at a time, though the slip of
the tongue wasn't a bad thing and lead into a nice segue. "Yeah, I did…."
Betelgeuse grinned widely, eyes twinkling while his tone colored with curiosity. "Whatcha talk about,
babe?"
Lydia recognized the look her dearest husband was shooting her way and sniffed haughtily. Oh, he was
waiting for her to say something like nothing much then he'd add, why didn't you tell them, Babes? Ha,
this time she did so he could go sit on it. "Actually, I told them I got married."
He let out a whistle and clap his hands then rubbed them together gleefully. "No shit, about fuckin' time.
How'd they take it?"
They didn't have a meltdown, though that could still happen, they did still have the weekend after all.
Her gut twisted, and she knew her husband wouldn't like what she said next. "Better than I thought,
though…I didn't tell them who I married."
His brow puckered, and the gleeful grin melted into a frown. He dragged his fingers roughly through his
hair and snared at her. "Babe, Seriously, what the fuck?"
"I was going to tell them, but it just didn't feel right." She gave him a nervous smile and continued. "They
did invite us this weekend, and I told them that we would go. I thought it would be better to tell them in
person. It's the right thing to do, Betelgeuse."
He didn't say anything for a few minutes then he sighed loudly and reached out to tuck of a piece of hair
behind her ear. "If that's what you want, babe, then we will go see the fams and tell them in person."
Her eyes lit up, and she questioned him in surprise. "Really?"
Betelgeuse shrugged his broad shoulders as he replied. "Why the hell not?" Tipping back his head, he
cackled loudly then rubbed his hands together in glee once again while his bright eyes glowed
mischievously. "I can't wait to see their fuckin' faces when they see me. Do ya think I could borrow your
camera, Babes?"
She stared at him, a frown and crumpled brows marring her features as she shook her head. "No, you
cannot, and you are going to behave, aren't you? Betelgeuse, I don't think I can handle any more stress.
Not with them not knowing that you're my husband, Lulu being fussier than usual and the possibility that
I could be pregnant…" She pointed to her stomach and bit her lip while giving the poltergeist a pleading
look.
A sigh of frustration sprang from him, and he rubbed a hand over his face before answering his tiny wife.
"Fine, I won't do any shit to them." Another sigh left him while he forged on with his words, "So, we
should probably go get that test, right?" He gestured to her stomach. "To see if my kid is a brewin' in
there."
Her hand rested on her belly, and her gaze went from her husband to her churning stomach as she shook
her dark head in agreement. "Yeah, we probably should."
The poltergeist stood up and adjusted his suit. "Okay sweets. I'll be back." He bent down to kiss her, then
blinked out of sight.
Once her husband was left, Lydia glanced at the playpen and realized that Lucy had fallen asleep through
everything that had been going on. Running a palm over her face a couple of times, she got up and moved
to the pen, reaching in to cover the little girl. With that done, she then headed towards the kitchen to
make them something for lunch.
By the time that she had lunch on the table, her husband was back with a plastic bag in his hand. He lifted
it to eye level and sneered at the bag as he spoke. "How many fuckin' types of pregnancy tests do you
women need? Seriously, babe. Fuckin' ridiculous."
Her dark brow cocked as he handed her the bag then made his way to his waiting lunch. Lydia held the
bag with both hands peering into it. As her husband stated, he had indeed gotten several different tests
and some condoms. She pulled out the prophylactics and held them between her fingers. "Why do we need
condoms?"
Betelgeuse turned up from his sandwich gaze flicking to the condoms before coming back to her with a
cheesy grin. "That's for if we're not knocked up. You know safe sex and all that fuckin' jazz." He gave her a
wink, while he bit into his sandwich and groaned in delight.
How could this man be so calm when not even a couple of minutes ago he had been the complete opposite?
How did he function? It was like the information was processed, and now the specter was okay with it all.
Was he not worried? Did he even care? Everything could change for them, and here Betelgeuse was
eating his lunch like it was a normal day. Seriously, what was going on in that head of his? Lydia levelled
her eyes and tossed her head about before dropping the condoms back in the bag. Leaving her husband to
his lunch, she hurried to the bathroom to take one of the many tests that he had gotten.
Minutes later, the nervous newlywed eyed the little white test resting on the back of the toilet. She
groaned at how long it seemed to be taking. Three fucking minutes and it felt more like an eternity. It
didn't help that staring at the damn stick wasn't making time move faster.
She twisted around to leave the small room and jumped when she spotted her husband leaning lazily
against the now open door. When the hell did he come and How did he get the door open without her
hearing it? What was he now, Houdini?
His gruff voice reverberated throughout the room as he spoke, "How long do ya have to wait, Babe?"
Lydia crossed her arms under her breasts and huffed in exasperation. "Three minutes."
"And how long has it been?" He asked, blinking at her curiously.
Was he trying to irritate her? Probably not, but it sure as hell felt like it. She frowned in frustration
and stomped her tiny feet. "A minute. One goddamn long and stretching minute!"
Betelgeuse's lips twitched quickly in amusement before he motioned for her with a flick of a few fingers.
"Come here, baby."
A frown still marred her face as she released a small sigh and made her way to her husband. When she
reached him, his hand snagged out grabbing her waist and pulling her flush to his chest. A cheeky smirk
painted his features while he peered down and started to mess with his annoyed wife a little bit. "Now
it's probably been two minutes." quipped the poltergeist and laughed when she tried to pull away.
Annoyance sparked in her eyes and Lydia lightly slapped at his chest. "Not funny asshole!"
The dead man chuckled some more than leaned down to rest his forehead against hers as he spoke, "Hey
seriously though relax, sweets. No matter what that fuckin' stick says, we'll deal with it together. I'm not
goin' anywhere, okay?"
Her annoyance disappeared as her husband went from aggravating to caring in a single stroke. Her tone
losing its edge when she exhaled in relief from the much-needed words. "Okay."
"Good. Now go check that damn test." He spun her around, pushing her towards the applicator and giving
her ass a quick smack. She jumped at the contact and glanced over her shoulder to give her husband a
glare, which he just returned with a grin and wink.
Releasing a breath and a roll of her eyes, Lydia turned back to the task at hand and made her way to the
toilet. Her stomach twisted in nerves as she gingerly picked up the stick. Looking down with shaky hands,
the anxious mother took in the results. 'Oh god,' thought the woman when she spied two little lines in the
applicator. Fuck, she was indeed pregnant. They were pregnant. Holy shit!
Her husband's voice came closer, causing her to jump once again and tilt her head up to see him peering
over her shoulder. "So what do two lines mean, sweets?"
How was she supposed to tell him? Should she just blurt it out just like ripping off a band-aide or…Oh,
she knew exactly what she was going to say to her dearest poltergeist. A smirk threatened to tease her
lips as Lydia batted her eyelashes innocently and responded with a hint of playfulness in her tone. "It
means we're not going to need those condoms…"
Seconds later, Betelgeuse's boisterous and rough laughter could be heard echoing throughout the house.

***
-So what do you think? I thought having a pregnant Lydia and a baby would be enough drama for the
little family. Raising a kid is fucking tough, but throwing in a pregnancy in the mix makes it even more
complicated. It is also fall and we all know that it's a big time for colds.
I have a question for you all. How do you think Neitherworld(Netherworld) is spelled? I've seen two
different ways and I'm wondering which one is the correct version to use?
well I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and please don't forget to review. :)

Chapter 8
Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with the Beetlejuice franchise nor do I make any money from
this.

***

“Betelgeuse, we are not juicing to my parent’s house,” remarked the pregnant woman standing in the
kitchen both hands on her hips, watching the man at the table continue to read the paper. Her eye begun
to tick in annoyance, and a foot started to tap against the tiled floor. Was he even listening to her?
His bottle-green eyes flicked up from the newspaper taking note of his wife's agitation with raised brows.
She was mad, and the poltergeist had no clue as to why since he wasn't ignoring her. For fuck's sake, he
heard every word that she was squawking about. Betelgeuse could feel the irritation growing while his
gaze narrowed, and he barked out, "Why the hell not?"
A sigh fell from her pink lips before she answered him. “I’m not that far along, and we don’t even know if
it’s safe for the baby and me. I don’t want to risk it, Betelgeuse.” She didn’t mean to make it seem like his
power would hurt them, but the truth of the situation was that she shouldn’t even be pregnant. She didn’t
want to do anything that could jeopardize the pregnancy.
Betelgeuse set the paper down even more irritated with the assumption that his juice would hurt his
wife and unborn child. His lips curved into a frown as his tone heated slightly. “My juice is fuckin’ safe,
Babe. Ya know I’d never put either of you in danger.” Letting out a huff, he made a point to remind her
that she let him juice with their daughter and never said a lick to him about it. “You let me juice with
Bug all the fuckin’ time, and she comes back in one damn piece just fine.”
Running her hand through her raven locks, she let out another sigh and tried to unruffle her husband’s
feathers. “I know you wouldn’t hurt us, honey but I’m a little nervous.” Hell, she was more than a little
nervous. Her mind couldn’t help but go to all of the things that could go wrong, and there were many
them. She should have never started reading that damn pregnancy book. “Many things can go wrong in
the first few months, Betelgeuse.” Lydia placed a hand on her stomach, her tone dropping softly. “I just
don’t want anything to happen to the baby.” The pregnancy may have been unexpected, but it was most
definitely not unwanted.
The chair scraped across the floor when the poltergeist stood to move to where his wife was. Betelgeuse
wrapped his long fingers around her wrist and pulled her gently to him. He looped his arms around her
waist and whispered into the side of her head. “Sweets, that kid of mine ain’t goin’ nowhere. You got
nothin’ to worry about, ya hear me?”
Her face buried into his shoulder, breathing in his earthy scent before she pulled back a little to look up
at him with puppy eyes and a nod. “Yeah, I hear you, but I’d still feel better if we drove to my parents.”
His gaze softened at the sight while a sigh escaped. His ample shoulders sagged in resignation as he said
something. “Fine. If it will make ya feel better, then we’ll drive there.. " Betelgeuse then paused a
mischievous grin surfacing on his rugged features before continuing, "but under one condition, Babe."
She raised a black brow and asked what the man wanted. “And that would be?”
“I get to drive.” Declared the poltergeist with eyes twinkling in amusement. He gave her a little squeeze
then laughed boisterously.
Lydia let out a snort while shaking her head and waving a hand to and fro. “I’ve heard about your
driving, so no not happening.” She was not letting this man behind the wheel, not after what Barbara and
Adam had told her. How could she trust him to drive a real car, when the man couldn’t even drive a toy
one? Seriously, crashing into a goddamn fire hydrant.
His grin fell at his wife’s rejection, and he let out a cry of protest. “Awe come on, Sweets. That was a long
time ago, and I was under fuckin’ duress.”
Duress! HA! Who the hell was he trying to fool? Her brows went up once again, and another snort rang
from her. “Duress, my pregnant ass! You were pissed off.”
The poltergeist’s face clouded at the memory then contorted into anger. “Damn right! That would’ve been
one of my best if it hadn’t been for those goody-goodies.”
Didn’t he realize that if his scheme would have gone the way he had planned it, then the chance of them
being like this might never have happened? Lydia’s chest just hurt thinking about not being with this man.
If it weren’t for him, where would she be? Most likely dead because there was a big chance that she
would have still had her photographs shown at the same gallery and met Luke.
She saddled closer to her husband, a hand coming up to rest on his chest as she peered up at him with a
small frown marring her lips. “If it hadn’t been for them, you most likely would have scared us off, and
there’s a good chance that we wouldn’t be here right now.”
His large hand raised to her cheek and cupped it tenderly while utter confidence colored his tone. “Naw,
if you’d had run I would have found ya.”
Lydia leaned into his touch and questioned her confident husband with a smile playing on her lips. “Oh
yeah, why is that?”
Betelgeuse flashed his gorgeous wife a blinding smile. His voice dropping to a smoky timber, while moving
his face closer so that he was staring into her dark eyes. “Cuz Babe…You had my attention.”
His words caused a rush of happiness and a silly smile to grace her features. Lydia should have known she
had caught his attention since he had wanted to marry her. Granted, a huge part of that had been for his
freedom, but maybe on a subconscious level, it had been more. Fluttering her lashes, she gave him a flirty
grin as she spoke. “Do I still have your attention?
Heat flared in his glittering gaze while shooting her that predatory look of his and running a thumb
along her bottom lip. “All the motherfuckin’ time, Baby.” He swiftly leaned in and kissed her soundly
before pulling back, wiggling his brows and sporting another grin.
A laugh broke free as her cheeks warmed, and the small hand on his chest grasped at his button-up. What
could she say? When this man kissed her like that, well, she can’t help the giddy feeling bubbling up inside
of her. “Fine, you can drive.” She knew he would never intentionally hurt them, and it was ridiculous to
rely on something that happened in the past. So, she caved and waited for her husband to crow loudly.
His face flushed with surprise as he stared down at his small wife. “No shit?” His grin became even wider
and kissed her again.
She drew back and laughed at the poltergeist then pointed a finger and started to poke him in the chest.
“Yeah, but if you crash, I’m kicking your ass.”
“Deal Babes,” agreed the dead man with a wink then he laughed happily before kissing her once more.
The couple broke apart when a hoarse cry sprang from the baby monitor resting on the table. Both
parents promptly turned to the device then back to each other while the child’s crying increased with
every call for her father. “Daaaaaaadaaaaaaaa!”
“I guess that little nap didn’t help her mood any.” quipped Lydia tiredly to her husband, who nodded his
head in agreement and released his hold on her.
He blew out a large breath before stepping back and turning away from his pregnant wife to make his way
quickly out of the room. She hurried to catch up and paused in Lucy’s doorway to watch as her ghostly
husband approached their upset daughter.
In a few steps, the poltergeist was next to the crib gesturing to the little girl sitting there rubbing her
wet eyes and calling for him. “Come here Bug,” cooed the dead man gently.
Her watery hazel eyes peered up at her father while she crawled to his waiting arms. “Daaadaaa.”
Snatching her up, Betelgeuse drew the infant to him and cooed softly into her matted locks. “Sssh…I
know kiddo. Daddy’s here.” One arm was holding her snuggly to his side while the other went to rub her
back.
Her little lip wobbled, and she tugged on her ear as she stared at her father and called out to him again.
“Daadaa.”
The poltergeist continued to rub his daughter’s back and whispering as he did so. “Sssh…Daddy’s here
now.” Lucy let out small whimpers then rested her blonde head on his shoulder. More soothing words
came from the rough specter and unconsciously began to rock her back and forth. “Sssh…It’s okay, Bug.”
Lydia’s gentle tone came filtering into the room. She slowly made her way to the dead man and child
with a frown marring her features. “I think she may be coming down with something.”
“Hmm…Lil Bug hasn’t been actin’ like herself,” said Betelgeuse while his gaze drifted to his wife then to
their daughter before his forehead crinkled in thought. "It must be somethin'."
Lydia’s hand reached out and slowly stroked her daughter’s head. “Do you think we should cancel? We can
do it another time?”
Her husband scoffed and turned his gaze back to hers. “You ain’t getting out of this one babe. Lil bug will
be fine, and if she ain’t better by the time we get there, then we’ll quickly tell your folks and cut it
short.”
“If you think it’s okay then fine we’ll go. Can you help me with the bags after you get her dressed?” asked
Lydia as she stepped away for the father and daughter duo.
Snapping his fingers, the dead man smirked down at his wife and quipped smartly. “Done, Sweets. Now go
get your coat and other shit on so we can hit the road.” He then began moving around the room to get
Lucy ready for the trip.
It must be nice to be able to snap your fingers and get things done in a blink of an eye. That would be
wonderful for when she can no longer see her feet. How many times while being pregnant with Lucy did
she have mismatched shoes on? A snort left the woman as she thought to herself. 'Too many times to
count.' "Wish I could do that?" grumbled Lydia loudly as she left her husband and child to go get the last
of her things ready.
As soon as they on the road, it took the couple about an hour to drive from their place to her parents. By
the time that they were driving up the winding private road, their temperamental child had fallen
asleep once again.
When the car stopped in front of the house, Lydia turned to the poltergeist and gave him a pointed look
as she spoke. “Betelgeuse, remember you promised to behave.”
Shifting the vehicle into park, he rolled his eyes and said drily, “Yeah, I remember. No scarin’ no one.
Wouldn’t want to give daddy-in-law a good ole heart attack. I’ll be good. I swear it, Babe. Scouts honor.”
He made the hand gesture of the boy scouts then winked before bending around the seat to release and
grab a sleeping Lucy from her car seat.
She loudly snorted at the gesture and opened the door to step out. “When have you ever been a Boy
scout?” asked the woman as she shut the door.
Betelgeuse peered over the top of the car and smirked. “I’ve been many things, Sweets.”
“I’m sure you have. You’ve been around for ages, after all.” She threw over a shoulder, laughing while
walking to the front door.
“That makes me older and wiser than.” Retorted the man behind her.
“You got the old part right.” Lydia laughed some more as she approached the door but was stalled by her
husband’s hand on her wrist.
His cool breath tickled her ear, causing a gasp from the pregnant woman and a chuckle from the devious
specter. “Baby, that’s not what you were saying early this morning as I was poundin’ into that tight little
pussy of yours. As I recall, it was don’t fuckin’ stop and harder Betelgeuse. I didn’t hear nothin’ about me
being old.”
Her face flushed with color as she did indeed remember their morning activity and the things she had
said during the heat of the moment. There had been a lot more than just those two things to come out of
her mouth. Her poltergeist seemed to draw out aspects of herself that she never thought was possible.
Lydia tilted her head back, eyeing her husband while her pink tongue came out to lick her lips and purred
at him. “Honey, I never said being old was a bad thing.” She drew closer to his cool lips and coasted over
them before continuing, “Some things get better with time.” Right before the flirty woman was going to
move in to touch their lips together, she pulled her body away from his and winked.
He growled loudly, then grumbled under his breath. “Fuckin’ tease.”
“Only to you baby.” remarked the newlywed with another wink before letting out a giggle and knocking
on the door. When nobody came, Lydia opened it and stepped inside, calling for family. “Dad? Delia?” She
looked around the room and called some more. “Barbra? Adam? We’re here!”
"Lydia my dear," yelled her stepmother from another room. They could hear the clicking of designer
heels as she hurried towards the entry. "I'm coming!"
Delia passed through the doorway, wiping her manicured hands on a tea towel and smiling brightly. When
her happy gaze landed on the dead man, her face paled then twisted into horrified shock. The towel fell
to her feet, and the terrified woman scrambled backward until her back hit the decorated wall. A shaky
hand pointed at the poltergeist and began to stumble over words eyes flicking to Lydia in horrified
confusion. "W.. w. .what is HE doing here?"
Before Lydia could open her mouth to respond, her father came rushing out of another room. At the sight
of them, he let out a scream of his own and made a beeline for his scare wife.
The pregnant woman watched as her parent eyed her husband in both terror and confusion. Well, this
was going better than she had thought it would. Turning to the poltergeist, Lydia noticed the Glasgow
grin plastered on his face and his eyes bright with amusement as he took in the flurry of chaos that
erupted around them. It shouldn't have surprised her that he was enjoying the situation he thrived on
this shit. Plus, she had asked him to behave, so this had to be wonderful to see her parent's nearly pissing
themselves.
The sound of Barbara and Adam echoed from the second floor, and their voices came from the staircase.
“Charles? Delia?”
Lydia and Betelgeuse both turned in that direction and watched as the ghostly couple flew down the
stairs, only to pause when they spotted the poltergeist.
For a few seconds, the dead couple did nothing then the curly-headed specter snapped out of the shock as
her mouth flopped open and his name spilled forth. “Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse!” Eagerly waiting
for the poltergeist to vanish, the scared couple soon realized that nothing was going to happen when the
specter remained.
Betelgeuse's head fell back, and an amused laugh sprang from him before returning his twinkling peepers
to the in-laws. That Chelsea smile continued as his smoky tone echoed against the fashionable walls.
“Sorry to disappoint you all but that shit doesn’t work anymore. I’m a free man. Well as free as a married
man with a wife and kid can get.”
Lydia elbowed her husband in the stomach and turned to glare at him. “Gee, you make it sound like we are
some kind of burden.”
Betelgeuse scoffed and narrowed his green eyes at her “Woman, don’t be puttin’ words in my mouth. I
didn’t say shit about ya guys being a burden. You know I’m with ya cuz I want to be.” His hand snagged out
and pulled her to him, both forgetting about the other people in the room. “Now don’t get your panties in
a bunch. It’s not good for you to get upset and it’s most certainly not good for the baby, Babes.”
Despite being scared and confused, Delia was the one who questioned them. “Baby; What baby?”
Lydia gave Betelgeuse a pointed look, then turned to her family. Well, they were already upset. It
couldn’t get any worse than this, so what the hell. “We’re having a baby.”
“WHAT!?” “But he’s dead?” “How is that even possible?” The two couples yelled in unison and watched
Lydia and Betelgeuse with a mixture of horror and shock.
“Oh, it’s possible,” cut in a raspy voice through the chaos and out of the shadows stepped the elderly
caseworker. “Geuse is a very powerful poltergeist and can do a magnitude of things. Though the power to
reproduce is very rare and can only be achieved if the entity cares deeply for the one they are with.”
Her eyes flicked over to Betelgeuse, before going back to the others. “I thought Geuse might have the
ability, but I wasn’t too worried since he only cares about one thing, Himself.”
The poltergeist glared at the old dead woman and snarled at her. “Yeah, proved that shit wrong, now
didn’t I Junie?”
Juno just shrugged her thin shoulders and puffed on her lit cigarette “We will see about that.”
Lydia felt a sudden burst of anger as she stared at the old woman and listened to her talk to her husband
like the old bat knew what she was talking about. Who the hell did the stupid bitch think she was? The
tiny newlywed shook off her husband and stepped forward. Hands came up to rest on her hips as she
glared harshly at the elderly specter and snarled. “What the hell does that mean, Lady? He may be a
pervy asshole at times, but he has been nothing but good to Lucy and me. You all look at him like he’s some
kind of monster which is far from the truth. I’ve seen what live monsters can do and he is fucking far
from it!” Lydia’s throat tightened as she forged on, “If it hadn’t been for him we would be dead. He saved
us even when he could have refused. He saved us because he wanted to!”
“He saved you because he wanted something from you.” Juno cut in, and Lydia turned a Betelgeuse like
sneer in her direction. “I called him because I fucking wanted something! I had known exactly what he
wanted before I called him. I wasn’t naïve to that. His offer had been marriage, and I accepted what he
had offered. And you all want to know what, I don’t regret it not one single fucking bit. It was like
destiny or some shit like that.”
Betelgeuse let out a loud snort as he pulled his irate wife against him. “Hey Babes, that’s my line.”
She crossed her arms under her chest and huffed while tilting her head up to look him in the eyes. “Well
I’m your wife, I can borrow your lines if I need them.”
He tried to hide the amused expression that wanted to break through as he kissed her temple and
attempted to pacify his angry wife. “Sure Sweets, anytime ya want.” The poltergeist then whispered in
her ear. “Seeing you go all bitchy mode on someone other than me was so fuckin’ hot, Babes.”
Of course, he would think it was hot. Only her husband would find her bitchiness remotely sexy. Her anger
washed away with the onset of her amusement. A giggle bubbled forth, and she shook her head at the
dead man as he grinned down at her with wiggling brows.
A throat cleared, and all eyes were drawn to the young deceased woman. She gave them all a hesitant
smile and motioned to an open doorway. “Maybe we should take this into the sitting room so we can get
the full story.”
Everyone in the room shook their heads in agreement and slowly made their way to the sitting room for
an explanation.
Minutes later, they were all watching the new couple anxiously and waited for them to speak.
The poltergeist reclined against the couch cushions, his sleeping child in one arm and his tiny wife in the
other. Lydia gave her husband a nervous smile which he returned with an encouraging smirk of his own
and gathered her closer. She let out a sigh and rested her head on his shoulder as she spoke. “The night I
called on Betelgeuse was the night Luke had broken into my home and tried to kill not only me but Lulu
as well.”
The couple heard the intake of sharp breaths from the other occupants, but they didn’t interrupt the
young woman. “He must have planned the break-in because he had cut the phone lines so I couldn’t call for
help. If I had known that I wouldn’t have run with the phone to the bathroom to hid and call the cops.”
Lydia buried her face in her husband’s shirt and took in his earthy scent before she pulled away and
continued. “If I hadn’t called on Betelgeuse, Luke would have killed us. I asked him to get rid of my
problem, and he did just that.”
Barbara was the first one to speak, “So you called him, and the deal was struck. What do mean by getting
rid of? Did he…kill him?”
Lydia caught the dead woman’s judging gaze and shrugged indifferently. “Honestly I don’t know what
Betelgeuse did to Luke and I’m not going to ask either. All I care about is he is gone and out of our lives.”
Barbara turned to her husband, sending him a worried glance before returning to the newlyweds with a
disapproving frown. Adam cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and taking over
where his wife had left off. “But Lydia, it’s wrong to just murder someone even if they do deserve it. You
shouldn’t be okay with it.”
Delia sneered vehemently shooting a hot glare at the dead couple while spitting heated words. “You say
it’s wrong, but I can’t help but be thankful knowing that he will never hurt my daughter and
granddaughter again.” She shrugged her shoulders and sneered some more. “So the rat bastard is dead.
Good riddance. One less abusive asshole out there.”
The poltergeist let out a bark of laughter and directed a smirk of approval at his pissed off mother-in-
law. “My thoughts exactly, Red.”
Delia twisted to the dead man her eyes widening as she took in his words then made an unpleasant face
before turning away.
Betelgeuse rolled his eyes at their jumpy and twitchy behavior. Seriously, he hadn’t done anything yet,
so why would he do something now? Plus, he promised his little wife and he wasn’t about to back out on
his word.
“What about Lucy? What are you going to tell her?” Adam questioned as he eyed the couple and waited
for their response.
Betelgeuse glared at the man shifting the sleeping child into a more comfortable position then tightened
his hold. “We ain’t tellin’ her shit. To Bug, I’m her daddy, and that’s the way it’s gonna stay. She’s my kid,
not that Guttercunts!”
Barbara’s lips twisted in displeasure and ended up glaring at the dead man. Her tone sounded patronizing
as she spoke. “Yes through marriage you are but you’re not her biological father.”
The poltergeist’s face contorted in fury and went to open his mouth to toss out a cruel retort when Juno
cut him off. “Actually, Geuse is correct. He is now the child’s paternal parent. It’s what you get when you
marry a breather. Once you say I do, you take responsibility for any children the breather has.”
Betelgeuse sneered at the boring goody-goodie and ground out a response through clenched teeth. “I told
ya the kid was fuckin’ mine. Talkin’ like ya fuckin’ know what your fuckin’ talkin’ about. When we all know
that you ain’t been around long enough to know shit, you stuck-up bit…”
Lydia’s loud yawn interrupted the pissed off specter and shifted his attention from the young dead
woman to the spent one in his arms. His anger seemed to melt away when his bottle-green eyes landed on
her. He gave the thin shoulders a gentle squeeze and whispered tenderly. “Babes, You okay there? You
gettin’ tired or something?”
Her drowsy eyes stared up at him, smiling weakly and nodding slowly. “Yeah, I’m suddenly really sleepy,”
said Lydia through another yawn and went to lay back on his shoulder.
He lightly kissed the top of her head, asking what she wanted to do. “You think ya want to take a nap,
Sweets?”
The pregnant mother’s heavy lids slid closed, and her words slurred slightly. “Yesuuure.” She yawned
once more and snuggled into his chest.
Betelgeuse snorted in amusement then turned his attention the other people in the room. “Well folks, I
guess we have to cut the inquisition short, cuz my little wife says she wants a nap and a nap she’ll get.” He
turned from them and shook the dozing woman, causing her to jump up groggily. “Come, Babes, let’s get you
and Bug to bed for a little bit.”
Her husband helped her to stand, and she pulled on his coat to draw his attention. His green pools met her
chocolate ones, and she gave him wide puppy eyes while her bottom lip went between her teeth. “Will you
come and take a nap with us?”
He drew her into his arms, leaning in to kiss the top of her head softly and quietly answered. “Sure, Babe.
If that’s what ya want?
She nodded gently, as a drowsy smile graced her rosy lips, and her glossy head went to rest comfortably
against his upper body. “I would like that very much.”
The poltergeist kissed the crown of inkiness and whispered low enough that just she could hear. “Me too,
Sweets.”
Her regard went to the people in the room, and the tired woman offered them a weary smile. Lydia
wasn’t sure how they were going to respond since she knew they wanted some answers. But the sudden
wave of fatigue had abruptly stripped her of any energy and all she desired to do now was get some rest.
The young mother hoped her family would understand and wouldn’t try to stop them. She wasn’t certain
what her brash and vocal husband would say or do if they did. Most likely nothing good and they would
presumably be on their way home. “Sorry guys but I’m suddenly really tired. This pregnancy is already
sapping my energy. Do you think we can talk about all this when I get up?”
Delia offered her pregnant stepdaughter a reassuring nod while she eyed the poltergeist warily. “Sure
my dear, I gave your room a good cleaning, so the bedding is clean. I set up Lucinda’s crib as well. Go take
a little nap to recharge, and then we will talk.” Her father bobbed his round head in agreement with his
wife. “Yes, like Delia said, go take that nap pumpkin. We can talk later.”
Relief washed over the exhausted woman, and she turned her gaze to her ghostly parents. They both gave
her a nervous smile, though their eyes flicked to her husband, giving him a dirty once-over before their
attention came back to her. Barbara sent her a soft and reassuring look, as she spoke. “Lydia, go take a nap,
and we will talk to you in a little bit.” Adam inclined his head in agreement and took his wife’s hand. “Yes,
go get some rest. We can finish this later.”
Lydia flashed them all another drained smile and lifted a tired hand to wave goodbye. Her beloved
husband didn't say a lick to either couple as he guided her out of the room and up the stairs to get some
much-needed rest.

***

Finally, the family knows and seemed to have taken it better than poor Lydia had thought. I really
enjoyed having Lydia come to Betelgeuse's defense and felt good to have her rip into Juno. I also enjoyed
the interaction between Lucy and Betelgeuse. It seems Betelgeuse has fallen into the father role quite
well. It's almost like it just comes naturally to him.
So what did you all think of the chapter? Please leave a review to tell me.
Also, thank you to all that answered my question.
Until the next update :) See ya!

Chapter 9
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Beetlejuice franchise nor do I make any money from this.
I simply enjoy using the characters for my own twisted amusement.
-There will be a reference to Ozzie and Harriet Nelson. A cookie cutter family show from the mid 1950s.
I'm sure you can guess who BG is referring that to.-

***

It took a few minutes for his exhausted wife's breathing to slow and deepen, indicating she had fallen into
the depths of slumber. Carefully, the poltergeist removed himself from the bed, twisting around to pull
the covers over his sleeping family. His fingers brushed along his wife's jawline and bent down to kiss her
soft lips. He then moved to his napping daughter and gently brushed the blonde strands away from her
face before stepping back and blinking out of sight.
The poltergeist suddenly reappeared right outside of the entrance of the sitting room and juiced himself
a cigarette. If he was to deal with these fuckers alone and rationally, he was going to need it. Hell, he
was gonna need a beer after all this shit; fuck, he should juice one now, though the in-laws would sure
love that and would most likely bitch about it too. Not that the specter gave a flying fuck what those
bastards thought, but he didn’t want them causing his little wife any grief. She was already stressed
about things that could go wrong in the pregnancy. As the dead man told his wife this morning, nothing
was going to happen not with his juice coursing through her and his offspring veins. It didn't matter what
he or anyone else said though she would be nervous, nonetheless. He'd be damned if he'd let her extended
family add to it.
Bringing the cig to his lips, he sucked in a deep drag of smoke and released it slowly. These assholes were
more of a pain then they should be. You'd think they'd be happy for their kid. For fuck's sake, she was
happily married to a man that would never hurt her and expecting their next grandchild. Those fuckers
should be grateful that the woman was still breathing and not six feet under. Though now that he was
thinking about it, he wasn't too thrilled that they left her unprotected against some abusive cunt. What
the hell were they thinking?! If someone did that to Bug, he'd slaughter them. A sneer twisted his
features as he glared at the empty doorway and started to walk through it. 'Let's get this shit over with.'
The dead man spied the twosomes sitting across from one another, clearly discussing what they had just
spoken to them about. He also noticed the old bat had dropped out of sight. Presumably had to go back to
the Netherworld and deal with all those boring and whining stiffs. That’s what fucking happens when
you’re on a short leash you got to come when they yank.
Betelgeuse juiced himself a chair and turned it around to straddle it. He cleared his throat and watched
the fools ceased their conversation. They whipped sharply in his direction and went from being
comfortable to nervous in a split second. The poltergeist couldn't help the delight that played on his lips.
‘Fuck yeah. Maybe this shits gonna be fun after all.’ The Glasgow grin widened at the thought, and if he
hadn't had a cig, his hands would be rubbing together deviously.
The amused man took another puff of his cigarette and leaned over the back of the chair. He released the
smoke, waving his cig at them as he started to speak. “Let’s not drag this shit out. You don’t like me and to
tell ya the truth, I don’t like you all very much either.” The cig went to his lips again, pulling a long drag
before continuing, “Unfortunately, Lydia does, and I don’t want to upset my pregnant wife. No need to be
in the fuckin’ dog house, cuz of you folks. So I propose we make a deal. I’ll be civil towards you all if you’re
all willing to be civil towards me.”
The poltergeist’s green eyes traveled to the shocked faces then went back to his father-in-law when
Chuck cleared his throat and for once, bravely voiced his opinion. The portly man shook like a leaf and
stuttered his words. “I…I…I’m still not sure about you, but m…m…my pumpkin is, s…s…so….as
long as you swear to treat m…m…my little girl and granddaughter right t…t…then I’ll agree.”
Betelgeuse’s features sobered, and his tone held a serious edge as he eyed the stuttering man. “I swear to
it, Chuck. I will always take care of my girls.”
“Now just wait,” His mother-in-law began commenting but was quickly stopped by her husband, “Honey, she
is clearly happy. If Lydia didn’t want to be married to this man, you and I both know she wouldn’t be.”
“But Charles…” Delia started to whine only stopping when the stout man shook his head, giving his wife a
stern look and a sharp tone. “No buts Dee. Let’s leave it as it is.” She let out a sigh and for the first time
bent to her husband’s wishes.
‘Well hell, who would have thought that good ole Chuck had a pair?’ Betelgeuse silently mused as his
piercing eyes left his in-laws and traveled to the goody-goodies, who were quietly talking amongst
themselves. Babs looked over at him with hard eyes and her lips pinched together in disapproval. “I don’t
trust you.”
Ooh, she didn’t trust him. Boo fuckin’ hoo. It wasn’t like that was something new to him. He knew the
stuck-up bitch distrusted him. She never had and most likely never will. Betelgeuse gave the dead woman
a glare of his own while he sneered at her. “Well that makes the two of us, cuz I sure as hell don’t fuckin’
trust you Babs. Seen any sandworms lately?”
She sent a cheeky grin his way as she smoothed out her dress in her lap. “Want to find out?”
“As long as you know that you’ll have to deal with my wifey, Babs and ya’ll seen what she did to Junie.
Well shit, that’s just the tip of the iceberg.” He smirked widely and took another drag of his cigarette.
The haughty smutbag hadn’t thought of that one when she was running her overly large mouth. If the
bitch brought in sandworms, he was bringing her with him this time, and only one of them would be
coming back.
Babs’s superior grin faltered slightly and looked as if she was weighing his words before opening her trap
once again. “I still don’t like you.”
Fuck. Didn’t they get it? Did drowning damage their brains? Seriously, how conceited and selfish could
this dead woman get? “This isn’t about you or me, Babs. You don’t have to fuckin’ like me, but you see,
Lydia does. If either of you gave a lick about her, you’d be willing to shut your goddamn mouths and suck
it the hell up like I’m willin’ to do.”
The poltergeist's gaze flickered to Harriet’s husband and watched his words begin to soak in. Good old
Ozzie shoved his glasses back up the bridge before he drew in his wife to discuss whatever the hell he was
hashing out with her.
Betelgeuse fought the urge to gag at the wholesomeness that this couple tried to portray. It wasn’t
fuckin’ normal to be so pure and wholesome all the motherfuckin’ time. Did Ozzie and Harriet ever get into
a good row? Shit. Everyone has some type of imperfections, and that doesn’t go away even when you're
dead.
When the Nelson’s finally pulled away from each other, the dead woman gave the poltergeist a
distrustful glare then sighed loudly in surrender. “Fine, for Lydia, we will. I still don’t trust you, though.”
Has she not got the news flash by now? He could care less about how she fucking feels. He’s not a
motherfuckin’ guidance counselor. “I don’t fuckin’ care if you do. The only opinion I care about is my wife
upstairs.” He snarled at the dead woman and stood up. He needed to get the hell out of there before he
throttled the stuck-up bitch. If he did that, his beautiful wife would lock up her snatch tighter than a
fucking mouse trap. “Well folks, this has been fun and now that we have things squared away.” A flick of
his hand made the chair disappear while he adjusted his cuffs and grinned widely at the group. “I’m gonna
get out of here before I land in the fuckin’ dog house. See ya later folks.” His hand waved to his in-laws
then aimed the bird at the displeased dead woman before he blinked out of sight.
Upstairs, the poltergeist blinked into view and began to troll the family homestead all the while
scanning for a good window to chill and smoke a cig in.
When he couldn't find a window, his frustration rolled off him in waves and he growled loudly. ‘Where
the fuck was all the goddamn windows? This must have been that fat fucks idea and one that Red should
have ignored.’ He was beginning to doubt his in-law’s decision-making skills. Shit decorating talent.
Shittier safety and parenting abilities. His pretty wife must have gotten everything from her maternal
side because she clearly didn’t get it from these assholes.
The poltergeist came to a blank wall and snapped his fingers. He created a large and open window so he
could kill the time as he waited for his little family to wake up. Betelgeuse sat down inside of the sill
bending on leg against the frame while the other skimmed the wooden floor. Another cigarette appeared
in his fingers, and he took a long draw from it then juiced a cold long neck. He drank deep from the bottle
and moved his vision to the vast and colorful land.
The dead man sat there for a few minutes just watching the leaves fall from the trees, and the birds flock
together to fly south. He occasionally took a draw of either his beer or cigarette. His green eyes never
left the scene as his smoky voice piped up. “You just gonna stand there all day, Junie or are you gonna
come out and tell me what’s on your mind? You know in this day and age, what you’re doin’ would be
considered stalkin’. Do I need to file a report?”
The old woman stepped out of the shadows with a lit cigarette of her own and rolled her eyes. “Don’t
flatter yourself, Geuse. I’m not doing this for kicks.” She sucked in some smoke as she continued. “So, what’s
the angle here?”
A bark of amused laughter spouted out of him then he took a sip of his bottle before answering the old
caseworker. “For once, I don’t fuckin’ have one. Believe it or not, Junie, I like bein’ a married man. Who
the hell would have thought that?”
Betelgeuse wasn’t lying. The specter really did enjoy being wedded to his little woman and couldn’t help
but relish in the benefits that came with it. Not that that was the only reason he was with her, no it was
just a bonus. Lydia was like no other breather he had ever met, and unlike everyone else who was always
nervous about what he might do to them, his wife was not. No, the gorgeous woman barely blinks an eye
at him or his antics. Hell, most of the time, she would just laugh and shake her raven head at him in
mirth.
The dead man swiped a drink of his beer and smiled at his thoughts. It wasn’t just being a husband that he
adored but also that fact that was now a father. Fuck, he never thought he’d ever get the chance to be
one. Bug, well his little daughter was something special. He may not have conventionally conceived her,
but Lucy was his, nonetheless. She would forever be his firstborn, even with the new one in the oven.
Juno’s raspy voice echoed in the hallway and rudely cut into his thoughts. “Cut the crap, Geuse! You
always have an angle.”
His green eyes levelled at her persistence but kept his gaze on the scenery and continued to puff on his
cigarette. “Not this time, Junie.” Didn’t any of these fuckers realize that this time it was different? Were
their heads so far up their asses that they couldn’t understand his priorities might have changed. Christ,
he was surrounded by a bunch of ignorant stupid cunts who think they know what the fuck they’re talkin’
about.
The mature caseworker scoffed lightly then voiced her opinion while she eyed him carefully and moved
her free hand to her hip. “Why is it different this time around?”
His mind drifted to his pregnant wife and kid once again and it caused his lips to twitch upwards as he
sucked in some more smoke. “I found something I want more than my own fuckin’ freedom.”
A thin brow rose, and her light eyes flashed with skepticism while she blew out another puff of smoke.
Her tone sounded unconvinced when she spoke next. “You want those breathers more than your freedom?”
Of course, the old girl didn’t believe him. Junie had never been his biggest fan and doubted everything
that made him the ghost with the most. Betelgeuse drew another pull from his long neck and nodded his
blonde head as he grinned wildly out the window. “Hell yeah I do and they ain’t just breathers. They’re
my family, and they calm the fuckin’ beast.” The poltergeist didn’t think the old bat was grasping what
was coming out of his mouth. His family calmed the raging storm of insanity that beat at him ever since
he’d fucking woken up. A sense of peace had finally settled over his undead life; one that he’d thought
would never cross his darkened path.
Betelgeuse could feel her steely gaze on his person and knew she was trying to gauge the truthfulness of
the situation. Not that he could blame the old girl. He did lie to her quite a bit in the past. Hell, he lied to
her a lot.
“Hm. For once in your afterlife, I think you’re actually telling the truth.” The old woman snorted then
sobered when she spoke next. “Geuse, the higher-ups are not happy that you are free.”
The poltergeist finally turned her way, his green eyes cold and his tone serious. “I don’t fuck around
when it comes to my family, Junie.” He lifted his cig to his mouth, sucking in a large amount then blowing
it in her direction. “I know that I haven’t taken anything seriously since I woke up, but I do now. My wife
and kid are the only reason I haven’t let loose and caused all that mayhem that you’re fuckin’ worried
about. All you dickwads are safe from my motherfuckin’ wraith.”
“I’m sure they will be comforted by that, Geuse.” Sarcasm was thick on her tongue as she rolled her light
eyes and sucked in some more smoke. “Though when they hear you knocked up your breather, they will
most likely have another fit. You have not just one child with your juice running through them but now a
second. You and I both know they’ll look for any reason to lock you up again and those kids of yours too.”
It was one thing to mess with him; it was another to fuck with his kids. They better hope they don’t do
anything reckless because if they do, he can’t promise there will be a Netherworld for the dead to go to.
The glow from his green eyes intensified, and his icy tone was colder than before. “If they fuck with my
kids, there will be no amount of locking me up that will stop me. I will tear the piece of shit Netherworld
apart, and that’s a fuckin’ promise, Junie. As I said, all you assmonkeys are safe unless you fuck with my
family then I ain’t holdin’ the fuck back.”
His piercing gaze dug into the light ones of Junos’ and she began to twitch, a sure sign that the old woman
was getting nervous. She puffed on her cigarette before carefully choosing her next words. “Now don’t be
hasty, Geuse.”
Sneering, Betelgeuse pointed his cigarette at the dead woman and let her know he meant what he said. “I
ain’t bein’ hasty. I’m tellin’ the truth. The higher-ups fuck with my kids, and they'll see what I really can
do. So, how about ya go and tell all those cockburgers that, okay?”
Her hand shook when she raised it to her thin lips and took in a long drag. Juno blew out the smoke
nervously and reluctantly nodded, “Fine, I’ll relay the message though you may want to have your wife
checked out by someone from the Netherworld. It would make the higher-ups less jumpy about exposure
and the need to do something about it.”
He scoffed loudly, and his gaze rocked to the ceiling. “I don’t fuckin’ care what those jagoffs are worried
about, but I’ll think about what you said. I will have to talk to the little woman before makin’ a decision
like that. I don’t want to end up in the dog house cuz I enjoy getting’ some from my tiny wife.”
“I do not want to hear about your sex life, Geuse. Keep that crap to yourself.” said the old woman dryly as
she continued to smoke. “You know, you were supposed to stay away from the Deetz girl?”
“Yeah well, that shit ended the night that she called me all fuckin’ bloodied and holed up in a bathroom.”
At the mere thought of that night, his fist clenched around the bottle and ground out his words. “If I had
known what I do now, I would have done things a little differently with the asscock.” Yes, he would have
taken his time and showed the little prick exactly what it was like to be in a fucking horror movie. The
little cunt deserved to be tortured until he cried for deaths sweet release.
Juno eyed the poltergeist critically before asking the question she had been wanting to know. “What did
you do with the breather?
The sitting specter cast her a chilling smile, and his vivid eyes gleamed with pleasure. “I beat the shit out
of him till the little thundercunt took his last fuckin’ breath.” It had been one helluva beating too. One
that Betelgeuse would have thoroughly delighted in if his temper hadn’t gotten the best of him. All the
poltergeist could remember was how frightened and bloodied Lydia had been, and them making their deal
then it was all a red blur after that. Just thinking about it got his blood boiling once again.
The dead caseworker looked nervous again but didn’t stop her inquiry. “Where is he then?”
His chilling smile widened while he took a long hit from his cig and blew several rings. “I made sure his
ass got sent to Titan. I’m sure he loved the sandworms; I know they sure loved him.” He chuckled
amusedly with a shrug of his shoulders and nursed the last of his beer. “I thought you’d appreciate no
paperwork.”
Juno’s steel stare sharpened shaking her shaggy head and pointing a gnarled finger at the ghost. “That
wasn’t your call to make.”
Betelgeuse’s fist tightened around the bottle once again, and he bit back a cruel snarl. “Fuck if it wasn’t.
That son of a bitched touched what didn’t belong to him.”
“She didn’t belong to you either.” snarked the old bitty with a raised brow and knowing look.
Flashing another toothy grin and slapping lightly at his thigh, he snorted loudly before informing the
ancient bird what was what. “Sorry to break it to ya, Junie but she had been mine since the day I’d seen
her all dressed in black and morose as a little goth maiden could get. I just hadn’t recognized it at the
time.” It was the one time he had been slow to the game. The fucking woman scrambled his senses and
threw him off-kilter without him even realizing it.
“I thought that was just a ploy to get your freedom?” Juno smoked her cigarette and asked with a large
amount of curiosity.
The specter’s jeweled eyes began to glow brightly, and a silly expression graced his distinctive features as
he spoke to the deceased woman. “Oh, it had been. It wasn’t until I was hanging around in that goddamn
waiting room that I realized I couldn’t get the little minx out of my fuckin’ mind. It’s amazin’ what a
couple of years can do when your thoughts are centered on one thing. You begin seeing things a helluva
lot differently.”
For a few minutes, the mature caseworker puffed on her cigarette and contemplated his words then
returned her curious gaze to his bulky form. Her forehead creased as she mumbled more to herself than
to the poltergeist. “It seems some things have changed…”
Betelgeuse opened his kisser to retort but stopped when his attention was diverted from Juno to the
other end of the hall. The sound of his daughter’s cries and wife’s voice bounced off the walls as they
called out to him. He turned back to his ex-boss, flicking the cigarette out the window and juiced the
empty beer bottle away. “It seems my wife and kid are awake so I gotta cut this conversation short. It
was fun, Junie. We should talk more often.” After that, he jumped up for the window sill and proceeded to
ignore the old bat as he waited for his family to come and find him.

***

- Hi :) What did you all think?

I have to say that I liked writing just with Betelgeuse and may have to do it more often. Plus, I love
having the opportunity to swear more than usual, though I swear a lot either way so I'm not even sure if
there was a big difference.
I also have some one-shots in mind for when this story has ended. I think I may write one about the
night between Betelgeuse and Luke. It will be extremely dark and something that I have never done.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter and please review to let me know. Until the next update ^.^

Chapter 10
Disclaimer: I don't own the Beetlejuice franchise, nor do I make any money from this story. I just like to
borrow the characters for my own twisted amusement.

***

Chapter 10

***
'What the?' The sleeping mother thought at the same time as she woke with a jolt when a small foot
connected with her back sharply. 'Ouch!' Lydia silently contemplated as she sat up in the bed and rubbed
the tender spot where her daughter had just hit. 'That shit hurt!' Damn, for being such a little thing, that
tiny girl was all arms and legs and took up most of the bed. How was that even possible?
Her brown eyes slid to the clock and spied that she had only slept for about an hour. You would think it
wouldn't be enough time to recharge, but it did seem to take the edge off the fatigue that was weighing
down on her. It does appear that a little bit does go a long way, especially for someone who's pregnant.
Plus, the young mother was going to need all the sleep that she can get now; because with two little ones
in the works, sleep will be the last thing on their minds.
Lydia pushed back the covers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her petite hand came up and
rubbed the sleep crust from her vision, while her other pushed her body up to sit squarely on the
mattress. Her dark eyes scanned her old room and realized that her ghostly husband was nowhere to be
seen. 'Hm..Wonder where he is?' The young mother scratched her head and quietly mused, then shrugged
her shoulders. Her poltergeist wouldn't have gone far and would show up eventually like always.
A light knock sounded on the door and drew her attention away from the thoughts of her husband. Lydia
watched as it slowly opened some and Barbara's voice softly called out her name while her curly head
moved into view. "Lydia?"
The deceased woman's eyes widened when she spotted the sleepy mother and gave her a nervous smile.
"Sweetie, I didn't wake you, did I?"
A few dark strands fell in front Lydia's face, as she shook her head and waved the ghost in. "No, you
didn't wake me. I just woke up a little bit ago. Please come on in."
Barbara carefully surveyed the room, before she took a few steps in and quietly shut the door behind her.
She gave Lydia another nervous smile and spoke with absolute care. "I was wondering if I could speak
with you?"
Lydia's hand went out and gestured for the other woman to take a sit in the chair across from the bed.
"What is it that you want to talk about?" She asked as she eyed her surrogate mother in question.
The specter sat down and fretfully smoothed out her dress, then got to the point. "It's about you and
HIM?" Barbara emphasized the word him and began to once again smooth out more imaginary wrinkles.
Lydia felt her irritation rising at Barbara's tone, but resisted the urge to snap at her. She ground her
teeth together as her own tone sharpened slightly. "What about me and my husband?" Her brown eyes
watched as the dead woman flinched when she said the word husband and her irritation seemed to grow.
Oh, for fuck's sake. Couldn't her family just be glad that she was happy? It could have been worse, so much
worse. Christ, it could have been Luke instead of Betelgeuse.
The exasperation must have been written on her face, because Barbara began to stumble over her words.
"Well. You see…Are you…You know…Happy…With him?" The specter bit her bottom lip and
cautiously caught her foster daughter's eye. A bubble of laughter spilled from Lydia, which caught the
anxious dead woman by surprise.
Her raven mane bobbed, while she smiled at her ghostly mother reassuringly. "I'm more than happy,
Barbara. I know it's hard to believe, but Betelgeuse really is a good guy. It just takes some time and
patience to get to know the real him." She sent Barbara another reassuring smile and continued to talk.
"He has been nothing but good to us, and I've never had a guy treat me the way he does. Betelgeuse is a
wonderful husband and father." Lydia stood up and made her way over to the vanity where her purse sat.
She dug through it and pulled out her keys, then hurried back to the waiting specter.
A smile played at the young mom's lips, while she handed the deceased a small picture frame with the
very first photo of Betelgeuse and Lucy. "That was the morning after we had married. I came out to find
him sprawled out in a big chair with a tiny Lucy laying across his chest. Both were snoring away, and I
couldn't resist catching the moment."
To be honest, it had been the first in long time that the urge to use her camera had struck her.
Apparently being with Luke had sucked out all motivation to capture anything. It was like her muse had
abandoned her once she had gotten involved with that horrible man and wouldn't come back no matter
how hard she had tried.
The curly haired ghost stared at the picture for a few moments, then turned her shocked eyes to the
woman in front of her. "Why would he do that?"
Lydia gave her shoulders a small shrug and answered quietly. "I think he wanted to give me a break by
letting me get some sleep. As for Lucy, well, I think he wanted to get to know his new daughter. Lucy's
very special to him." Her hand slid to her stomach and that smile of hers grew wider. "And so is this
little one. It may not be born yet, but it is already an important piece to our little family."
Tears shimmered in her dark eyes, as she took the tiny photograph back and brought it to her chest.
"Barbara, I never thought I'd find someone that would treat us right. I didn't think such a man was out
there, but he is, and I am so grateful that our paths crossed once again."
Barbara began to chew on her lower lip and reluctantly asked her question. "Do you…love him?"
Did she love Betelgeuse? She wasn't sure if she did or not? They had only been together for 3 months and
even though their relationship progress to more sexual in nature; it still wasn't enough time to say that
what they were feeling was love. All Lydia knew was that they like one another very deeply and that
seemed to be good enough for the here and now. "I'm not sure if what I feel for him is love, since we
haven't been together that long. I really do care for him and he cares for me as well."
Barbara's cool hands reached out for her own and clutched her hand tightly. "Lydia honey, how do you
know that he's not leading you on?"
A frustrated sigh escaped her form and the urge to yank away from the dead female's hold and snap at
her reared. Slowly, she took in some calming breaths and somehow held her tongue from lashing out. If
Lydia was to be honest with herself; she couldn't fault the ghost for thinking that. It would have been
something that the bio-exorcist would have done if he had still been that selfish and self-centered man
that they had first met. "I don't think so. Betelgeuse already got what he wanted when we married and
could have left at any time. So why would he lie and for what purpose?"
Barbara blew out a discouraged breath of her own as the dead woman reached for a reason. "I don't know
for revenge maybe?"
This time Lydia tore her hand away from the other woman's grasp and drug it roughly through her hair.
She stepped back and sent the frustrated ghost a raised brow with an 'you got to be kidding me'
expression. Was Barbara serious? Lydia doubted that she would have been high on Betelgeuse's hit list.
Not after what her surrogate parents had done to him. They had interfered with the whole sham of a
wedding and had gotten him eaten by a sandworm. Revenge against his almost bride would have been the
last thing on his mind.
"Revenge? Really? Yeah, I broke my word to him, but it's not like I sent a sandworm after him." Shit, she
knew that what she had just said was a low blow, nevertheless the dead woman was starting to piss her
the fuck off. Hell, everything was pissing her off as of late. Blasted hormones!
Lydia's heated glare bore into the ghost, while her words cooled considerably. "To be honest, you and
Adam are more likely to be on his list for revenge. Not that Betelgeuse would do anything now; he
doesn't want to cause trouble for our family. I wish you all would take my word that we are completely
safe with him and that he would never hurt us. Betelgeuse is a changed man, damnit!"
Barbara shot up from her seat and hurried towards her adopted daughter. The specter reached out and
drew the shaking woman into an embrace. "Oh, Lydia sweetheart, I'm not trying to upset you. I just
wanted to make sure that this is what you truly wanted. I only want you to be happy and safe." Her cool
hand gently stroked the back of Lydia's head just like Barbara had done a billion times when she was a
dramatic and woeful teenager. "Honey, this is just going to take some time for us all to digest."
Lydia buried her face within the folds of her dress and took in the comforting scent that was distinctly
Barbara. You'd think that either she wouldn't smell or that it would be that of decay, but neither were
true. The odor that clung to the ghost was sugary and sweet just like walking into a bakery and was
nothing like her husband, who smelled earthy; like taking a hike in a damp forest. Both were extremely
comforting for the pregnant woman though.
She lifted her face away from the soothing fabric to stare up at her ghostly mother with remorseful
eyes and to apologize profusely for her snappy behavior. "Barbara, I'm so sorry for getting snippy. I know
that this is a huge adjustment for you all and it's going to take some time."
Barbara returned her regretful gaze with a gentle smile and a cool hand to her cheek. "Lydia, I know this
can't be easy for you either. It must have been very scary for you to come here and tell us the truth. I'm
glad that you did and so are your parents. Everything will work out in the end, sweetheart."
"I sure hope so. I don't think I can take any more stress. This pregnancy is kicking my butt and nothing
like when I was pregnant with LuLu." Lydia said as she pulled away from the dead woman's calming touch
and sighed deeply.
"Yes, you did have a huge amount of energy, even in your first trimester."
A snort left Lydia and a hand passed over her face, then peered up at the specter. "Well this time around
its low energy up the wazoo."
Barbara frowned and sent her a concerned glance, while her tone softened. "Sweetie, would you like to lie
down some more?"
Lydia shook her head and gave the woman a dismissive wave of her hand. "No. Couldn't if I tried. Miss
Lulu hogs the bed." She thumbed in the direction where the small child was currently sprawled out even
more on her side.
The ghostly female eyed the mattress and the child, then chuckled loudly. "Oh boy, she does, doesn't she?"
"Big time." The young mother let out a laugh of her own as she continued to watch her child, who began to
wiggle around.
The child in question let out a small whimper and her little hand rubbed her sleep filled eyes. Lucy
slowly moved to sit up and started to pull at her ear as she called out for her daddy.
"Daaadaaa…..Daaaadaaa."
Lydia rushed to her crying daughter side and scooped her up in her arms. Gently she began to rock the
upset child back and forth, while cooing soothingly to her. "Ssh…Lulu love, it's okay."
Barbara approached the pair and reached out to lightly stroke the back of her little granddaughter's
head. "Oh honey, Is she okay?"
A flustered breath released from the petite woman, while a hand shoved roughly through her long dark
hair as she continued to try to sooth her daughter. "I don't know. Lulu hasn't been herself lately, and I
think she may be coming down with something." In spite of all of the bouncing and patting, Lucy's cries
repeated to reverberate throughout the room and left both women deeply unsettled.
The concern was strong in the specter expression and tone as she spoke. "Lydia, you know I try not to tell
you how to parent, but maybe you should take her to the doctor…"
Lydia blew some loose strains of hair from her eyes and wondered if her surrogate mother was right.
Lucy still hadn't become any better since rising this morning and seemed to have gotten worse the later
the day dragged on. Shit. Maybe they should take Lulu in. Clearly there was something going on.
More air slipped passed her lips, while she glanced over to her distraught child, then to the waiting
ghost. "Yeah, I'm thinking maybe we should." Now the only problem was that she had no clue where her
husband was. Wasn't he supposed to be taking a nap with them? Where the hell had he gone to?
Lydia stepped towards the doorway and asked the specter if she had spotted her missing husband. "You
haven't seen Betelgeuse, have you?" Hopefully, Barbara had seen him. It would help greatly in her search
to find the poltergeist.
Barbara's curls bounced as she bopped her head and followed Lydia to the entrance. "I smelled smoke
down one of the hallways, so I'm guessing he is trolling there somewhere."
Lydia went to open the door and motioned for Barbara to go out first, before joining her in the hall. She
bounced Lulu on her hip and turned to face the ghost. "Okay, I'll check there first. I'll see you in a little
bit."
The specter reached out and stroked the soft blonde curls of her upset grandbaby, then bid them goodbye.
"Yes. Let us know when you come back, okay?"
"I will." Waving goodbye to Barbara, she quickly made her way down the hallway to find the ghost with
the most.
The farther Lydia walked down the hall, the stronger the odor of cigarettes became. Geesh! Barbara had
been right! The smell of smoke was incredibly strong in this direction, and she was positive that her
husband was most likely down at the end.
Lydia couldn't help but wonder why Betelgeuse was in the hallway anyway. It wasn't like there was
anything interesting up here. Hell, it didn't even have a damn window to look out of! She thought that
not having a window was asinine and couldn't possibly be safe. What if there were a fire? How the hell
would they get out? Bet the obese man had never thought about that when he was spewing nonsense in
her stepmother's ear. It had been rather disgusting when Otho had said jump and her stepmother had
remarked how high. Well, that had ended rather quickly, especially after the night of the sham wedding.
Otho was so spooked that he refused to take Delia's phone calls and had ended their tedious friendship.
Lydia was glad the chunky bastard was out of the picture. Kudos to her husband for scaring the living
daylights out of him.
A smile graced her features for a second, before being replaced with a frown as the pregnant woman
slightly bounced her offspring on her hip and hurried down the hall. Gently she cooed and patted Lucy's
back, in hopes that the small child would calm some. "Ssh, baby. It's okay."
Damn it, nothing seemed to help to soothe the crying child. Her wails increased in volume and called out
for her father. "Daaadaaa…Daaadaaa!"
Frustration rolled off of Lydia when nothing seemed to stop Lulu's pain filled cries. She knew that the
only way her upset child would calm was to find Betelgeuse. That thought caused her to quicken her
steps and call out to her husband. "Betelgeuse?"
A large sigh left her as she spotted her husband and rushed towards him. Halleluiah, there was a light at
the end. Ummm…Actually, there was light. Why was there a window? Not that she was complaining.
Now if there were ever to be a fire, they wouldn't burn to death. Yay for escape routes!
Her brown eyes moved from the window to the silent case worker who stood off to the side of her
husband. Lydia wondered what she was still doing at the house. It hadn't been that long since the
confrontation and the pregnant mother was still none too happy with the old dead woman. The urge to
shove her foot up the old bitty's ass had not gone away during her time napping. She bit her tongue and
her lips twisted together tightly as she turned her gaze from the deceased worker to her poltergeist.
A frown quickly marred his rugged face and his voice dripped with concern. "Babes? Hey what's going on?"
His arms stretched out toward his wife and daughter and motioned with his hands. "Come here, Bug."
Betelgeuse reached out for the little girl and drew her securely to his form. "Ssh…it's okay, baby girl."
Lucy's cries began to simmer down, but they did not cease entirely as the little girl continued to pull on
her lobe.
The old woman watched the tiny family in silence, then cleared her throat and attracted the attention
of the couple. Her smoky voice questioned the poltergeist. "Geuse, how long has she been pulling on her
ear like that?"
"It's just been about a day, I think." Betelgeuse said as he turned to Lydia for confirmation, then back to
Juno. "Yeah, it's been about that. Why do you ask, Junie?"
Juno ignored the nickname that her ex assistant had bestowed upon her and continued with what she was
getting at. "When my kid was little, he used to pull on his ear just like that when he was suffering from
an ear infection." Her light eyes burrowed into poltergeist's, before moving on. "You might want to take
her in. You know what happens when you let an infection go, don't you Geuse?"
Betelgeuse stiffened and tightened his hold on his child, while he turned from the old case worker and to
his wife. "Come on Babe. We're gonna take Bug to the hospital." The anxious man didn't wait for her
response, as he grabbed a hold of her arm and pulled her in the direction of the exit. Betelgeuse glanced
over his shoulder and shot the old ghost a heated glare, but didn't say a lick to her before they
disappeared out of sight.
Once in the car, Lydia turned to her husband with a look of concern. Betelgeuse hadn't place Lucy in her
car seat and it didn't seem like he was going to any time soon. "Don't you think you should put her in her
seat?"
The usually cocky ghost shook his head, while he pointed to the ignition. "Naw, she's fine right here. No
amount of force will drag her from my hold. Now let's just get a move on, okay Sweets?"
She wanted to argue that it wasn't safe, but she knew that her husband would never do something to
harm their child. If he said she was safe, hell she was. Still she couldn't help but be worried about the
unusual behavior of the poltergeist. "Okay…"
It took a mere 10 minutes to get to the small hospital that Winter River had. Lydia thought it was more
like a clinic than a hospital, but she wasn't going to argue with the folks that live in Winter River. To
each his own and all that jazz.
As soon as the vehicle was in park, they were out of the car and hurried to the entrance to see someone.
The couple scurried to the front desk, where a middle-aged woman sat typing something on the computer.
Lydia made a sound in her throat to draw the woman's attention and softly spoke. "Excuse me?"
The older lady's head shot up from her work and smiled brightly at her. "Yes, my dear, how may I help
you?"
The young mother pointed at her husband and child as she rushed her words. "Our daughter hasn't been
feeling good and we think that she may have an ear infection."
The receptionist's smile dropped to a frown and eyed the little girl. "Oh no, poor darling. Dr. Rogers has a
couple of patients ahead of you, but that should give you enough time to fill out the paperwork. What is
your daughter's name?"
"It's Lucinda Geist."
The smiled returned to the receptionist's face and beamed at the young mother. "That's such a pretty
name!" Then she went about getting the papers and a clipboard together, before handing Lydia the bundle.
"Here's the paperwork, my dear. You just bring it back to me when you are done."
Lydia sent her a small smile and bobbed her raven head, while she grabbed a pen from the container.
"Okay, I will. Thank you."
The older lady flashed another smile and pointed in the direction of what seemed to be the waiting room.
"You're most welcome. The waiting room is just over there." They gave the receptionist a nod, then made
their way to the waiting area.
Once the couple found a seat to sit and wait, Lydia began to fill out the paperwork to the best of her
ability. Several more minutes flew by when she finally put down the pen and sighed. Man, they had a lot
of freaking questions and most had her digging deep in the recesses of her already occupied mind. Why is
it every time you need to remember important information your mind goes blank? Lydia wasn't sure, but
she did get it filled out, so they can either take it or leave it.
Standing up, she quickly made her way back to the front desk to return the forms. She smiled at the
woman behind the desk and handed her the clipboard. "Here you go."
The receptionist sent her a smile in return, while she took the paperwork and placed them in a basket.
"Thank you my dear." Lydia gave her a nod and a quick you're welcome, then hurried back to the waiting
room.
Stepping back in the room and sitting down, she eyed her obviously anxious and worried husband. The tick
in his jaw was going a mile a minute and Lydia knew that this whole situation was freaking him out. Hell,
she was freaked herself. Nobody liked their baby being sick.
Her dark eyes watched the poltergeist stare up at the clock on the wall then glance at his watch, before
he let out an impatient huff. Her gut began to ache and the feeling of something being off struck her. Her
husband seemed stranger than usual. It was like it was more than just Lulu being sick. She couldn't put
her finger on it, but Betelgeuse wasn't acting like himself at all. Shaking her head, Lydia pushed it to the
side to worry about it after they took care of Lucy.
Time seemed to tick by slowly as they waited to be called. Her husband huffed loudly, then whispered to
her. "What the fuck is takin' so long?"
Oh yeah, Lydia was missing something. When it came to them, Betelgeuse was normally pretty level
headed and right now he was the opposite. She couldn't fathom what it could be to have her husband's
feathers so ruffled. A sigh left her, and she whispered back to him. "I know it's been a while, but the lady
did say that there was a couple of people ahead of us. We will probably be called soon."
A sneer ripped from him and his hold on Lucy tightened. "Yeah, Yeah. These other fuckers are sick, but
Bug is a little kid and in fuckin' pain! That shit should take presence over a bunch of adults. They can suck
it the fuck up."
Another sigh came from her and she forced herself not to roll her eyes. "B, it doesn't work like that. We
just have to wait our turn."
Betelgeuse went to open his mouth, but was stopped when Lucy's name was called out from the other side
of the room. "Lucinda Geist?"
Lydia nudged the poltergeist with her elbow and spoke softly under her breath. "See I told you." Then she
grabbed his sleeve and pulled them up and to the waiting nurse.
She gave the woman a smile and confirmation. "Hi. That's us."
The young nurse smiled in return and greeted the couple. "Hello. I'm Dr Roger's nurse, Mindy." They began
to move down the hall and ended up in a small alcove. "Okay I just need to get a height and weight for
Lucinda."
Mindy took Lucy's weight and height and wrote the information down on her sheet, then had them walk
once again down the hall. "Okay. Now this way and we will be in the room on the left."
As soon as they were in the room, she motioned for them to sit in the vacant chairs, before going to
retrieve the thermometer. "Dad, why don't you sit here, so I can get her temperature." Nurse Mindy took
Lucy's temperature and hummed to herself, as she jotted it down on her papers, then turned to them.
"Okay folks, That's all from me. The doctor will be right in to see you." The couple gave the nurse a nod
and a wave goodbye, as they waited for the Doctor.
Once the nurse left, Betelgeuse grumbled under his breath once again. "More fuckin' waiting. Seriously,
what the fuck is up with this shit?"
This time Lydia did roll her eyes and patted his shoulder. "It will only be for a few minutes and you know
the doctor will be right in. It shouldn't be that long." Just as she finished, a knock resounded on the door
and an elderly man stepped in.
The older man smiled at them and reached out to shake their hands. "Hello. I'm Dr. Rogers. Can you tell
me what brought you in today?"
Lydia returned both the smile and the handshake, as she began to introduce them and their concerns. "Hi
Dr. Rogers. I'm Lydia, and this is my husband Benjamin. Our daughter Lucy hasn't been herself for a while
now, but it has seemed to have gotten worse as of late. She just started to pull on her ear and an
acquaintance of ours thought that she may have an ear infection. We thought that we should bring her
in just in case."
The doctor reached out and grabbed a white notepad and began to jot down some notes. Quietly, he
listened to her and waited for her to finish before he asked her a question. "Has she had an ear infection
before?"
Lydia shook her head in response, as she glanced over at Lucy then back to the doctor. "No. She has never
had one."
Dr. Rogers continued to write some more notes, while he carried on with his questions. "Which ear was
she pulling at?
Betelgeuse's gravelly voice rang out, before Lydia could answer. "It's the left ear that she's been tuggin'
on."
The doctor scribbled down some more, before motioning to the examination table. "Okay. Why don't we
have dad sit on the table with her, so I can look in her ears."
Betelgeuse stood up and made his way to the table to sit, while Doctor Rogers washed his hands. After
the doctor was done, he grabbed the otoscope with a child sized speculum from the wall and approached
them.
Doctor Rogers looked in the right ear then the left as he talked to the couple. "Well…the ear drum does
look red and seems to be bulging. She does have quite a high fever, so it looks like it is what you both
thought. Little Lucinda here has an ear infection." He pulled back to put the medical instrument on the
wall and spoke to Betelgeuse. "Benjamin, you may go back to sit next to your wife."
The Doctor reached over and grabbed what looked like a prescription pad and began to fill it out. "I'm
going to prescribe an oral antibiotic and recommend that you get a pain reliever for the discomfort and
the fever. We have an inhouse Pharmacy, so I'll have my nurse Mindy walk you over there."
Relief washed over Lydia at the news that her daughter was indeed sick with an ear infection and that
was why she had been so cranky. The poor baby, Lulu had been in pain. No wonder she had been crying her
little butt off. Well, now that they knew what was the cause, they'd get some medication in Lulu's system
and she would begin to feel a little better. Lydia reached out and stroked Lucy's head, then turned her
attention back to the doctor. "Thank you, Dr. Rogers."
"You're welcome. If she doesn't get better in the next couple of days, then I suggest that you see your
regular physician." The older gentleman smiled at the young mother as he stood up to shake both of their
hands again before leaving. "It was nice to meet you both and I hope your little one feels better.
Goodbye."
They waved goodbye to the doctor and waited for his nurse to arrive. Shortly after the doc left the
room, Mindy the nurse popped her head in the door and opened it. "Hi. You can follow me." She motioned
for the little family to follow her out of the room and down another hallway.
They eventually came upon a small onsite pharmacy, where Mindy flashed a grin at the young man
behind the counter and handed him a prescription slip. "Hey George, I have a prescription here for you."
The man named George returned her grin with a smirk and snagged the paper prescription. "Thanks
Mindy."
"No problem." Mindy turned from the pharmacist and to the couple standing next to her. "Well it was nice
to meet you and I do hope that Lucinda feels better soon."
Lydia reached out to shake the nurse's hand. "Thank you and have a nice night."
Nurse Mindy shook her hand back and beamed. "You too. Bye." She stepped away from the couple and
waved to them, then made her way out of the room.
As soon as the nurse was out of sight, they turned their attention to the waiting pharmacist.
George grinned at them as he spoke. "Hi folks, this will just take a couple of minutes, so you can wait over
there, and I'll call you when it's ready."
"Okay. Thank you."
He tipped his head and continued to grin at her. "No problem ma'am."
They moved to sit in the empty chairs and wait for the prescription to be filled. Betelgeuse let out
another huge huff and lowly sneered in his wife's ear. "More fuckin' waiting."
Not this again. Seriously this man's thin patience was getting ridiculous. What was going on with him?
She wanted to question him, but felt like this wasn't the place to do it. Instead She whispered softly back.
"Betelgeuse, I want to get Lulu's medication just as much as you do, but they need to do it right. It's just
going to be a couple more minutes and then we can get the medication in her system."
The dead man scoffed and glared at the empty counter. "Still fuckin' taking forever."
One of many sighs left her once again as Lydia shook her black mane, but didn't comment to her anxious
husband.
Sometime later, the pharmacist called them to the pickup window. Lydia grabbed some infants pain
reliever on the way, then listen to what the pharmacist said about the oral medication, before paying for
both medications.
As soon as the medicine bag was in her hands, her husband had quickly ushered them out of the hospital
and into their vehicle.
His green eyes turned on her and cocked his head in the direction of the bag. "How about we get some of
that medication in her before we leave, Sweets?"
Lydia bobbed her head in agreement, while she opened the bag and drew out both medications. She
unsealed the pain reliever first and measured out the correct amount then passed it to her husband. It
would be better to try and knock out the pain as well as the fever first.
Lucy fussed in her husband's arms and tried to turn away from the dropper, but Betelgeuse had somehow
coaxed the young child to take the bitter medicine. Her tiny face scrunched up and blew out a raspberry
to try to remove the unpleasant aftertaste.
The young mother handed the poltergeist the other dropper and watched as he tried again to convince
their daughter to take it. He brought the other medication to the little girl's mouth, but she shook her
head some more than shoved it way with her small hands. "No."
Lydia heard her husband sigh, while he talked to the small child. "Sorry Bug, but you gotta take this."
Her blonde head shook again and cried as she pushed his hand away. "No."
"Come on, baby girl. Just one more time. Now open for daddy."
Lucy shook her head several more times and her ghostly father continued to persuade her. Finally, she
opened her mouth and allowed him to squirt in the medication. Her face twisted into a grimace and blew
out another raspberry. Betelgeuse juiced a bottle and gave it to the child, who drank it quickly.
Lydia couldn't help but wonder how the poltergeist did it. How was he able to persuade their daughter to
do things that she didn't even want to do? Hell, the pregnant mother couldn't even get the tiny child to
cave on good days then her husband waltzes in and bam, little Lulu listens. It must have to do with the
psychology of the father/daughter bond or it was simply the strong connection between Lulu and
Betelgeuse period.
Her dark eyes moved from her family to the colored sky. By now the sun was beginning to dip closer
towards the horizon, which indicated that they had been at the doctor's office for quite some time. It
would probably be best to get back to her parents, so that they could put Lulu to bed and figure out what
they were going to do next. Taking her eyes off the skyline, Lydia cleared her throat and drew
Betelgeuse's attention. "Honey, it's getting late. Maybe you should put Lulu in her car seat, so we can go
back to my parent's house."
Betelgeuse's green eyes went back to their daughter and released a deep sigh. "Sure Sweets." The
poltergeist placed Lulu in her seat and adjusted the straps, before righting himself in his own. As soon as
he was done, Lydia started the car and shifted it into gear, then pulled out of the parking lot.
When they finally pulled into her parent's drive and parked, Lydia noticed that the poltergeist still
looked agitated. Betelgeuse's jaw had been twitching, and his long fingers kept drumming against the arm
rest as his gaze moved to the mirror that he had tweaked to keep an eye on a less cranky Lucy. It was
like he was afraid that something was going to happen to Lulu at any second. This worried his wife even
more. The urge to call him on it was strong, but still she bit her tongue as they got out of the vehicle and
made their way into the house.
Betelgeuse held the drowsy child to his side, while he hurried up the stair and to their room. 'Christ, he
was freaking fast!' The young mother thought as she quickened her own steps to try to keep up with her
husband's long strides.
Once in the room, Lydia quickly shut the door behind them and eyed the anxious poltergeist, who was now
gently placing their daughter into their temporary bed.
Carefully, she approached him and tried to soothe some of his anxiety. "Honey, Lucy is going to be fine."
Betelgeuse sat on the edge of the mattress and stared over at his wife, while he ran his hand through his
blonde hair. He scoffed lightly to her but stayed relatively silent.
His reaction caused her brows to furrow and the words she'd tried to hold to come flooding out.
"Betelgeuse, will you tell me why you're so agitated?"
"Who says I'm agitated, Babe?"
The skeptical woman sent her husband a dubious expression and tried to keep her voice low so not to
disturb their dozing child. "I'm saying you are. It's like you're afraid that something's going to happen to
Lucy. Why are you acting like that? Will you tell me what's wrong?"
Once again, his hand ran roughly through his mane and a growl sprang from him. "Lydia just back the fuck
off, okay?!" The sharpness of his tone caused his worried wife to jump back and her mouth to drop open in
surprise.
Betelgeuse had never used that tone or her name before. No, it had always been babe, babes, sweets, and
sweetheart. Lydia watched as her husband rubbed his face and release a massive breath then he just sat
in silence on the bed. What the hell had just happened? Why did he snap at her? Was it because she had
pushed? Shit, she hadn't meant to upset him. It was just that his odd behavior was disconcerting. Her
chest and throat tightened as she tried to take in a gasp of air and blinked her eyes to try and fight the
tears that wanted to spill. Goddamn hormones! Normally she wouldn't have taken this so close to heart.
Yes, she would have been hurt, but she wouldn't have been fighting the waterworks that she was now
battling with.
The room began to feel like it was closing around her, and the young mother knew that she needed to get
out of the stifling area. Not waiting to see if her husband was willing to speak or not, she made a beeline
for the door and hurried out of the room. Her vision became blurry from the unshed tears as Lydia
hastily made her way to the kitchen.
A hand went up to wipe her watery eyes, while she quickly crossed the threshold and proceeded to the
cupboard. All she wanted to do right now was to try and sooth her raging emotions with a huge cup of
hot chocolate.
The warm and sweet goodness that was hot cocoa was a stable in the Deetz household during her
childhood. Whenever there was an upheaval in their lives, Lydia and her father would sit in the kitchen
and drink hot chocolate. Most of the time they would just sit in silence. Words had not been needed. It
had been comforting enough to just have her father by her side. Lydia remembered drinking a lot of hot
coca during the time that her father had started dating Delia. It had been a drastic shift in their family
dynamic and one that Lydia had a hard time dealing with. The warm drink had been a great comfort
during that stressful and confusing time.
Shaking off her thoughts, Lydia pulled open the cabinet that held the Coffee cups and condiments. She
scanned the shelves and finally spotted what she was looking for; her favorite mug and a container of
cocoa that Delia had been raving about one time when they had spoken. It was some fancy brand that
Lydia had never heard of, but her stepmother swore that it was the best and that she would enjoy it.
Well, now she would put Delia's words to the test.
Lydia carried her mug and the container to the microwave and set it on the counter, while she went to
the fridge to get some almond milk. Once again, Delia was on another kick and this time it was no dairy in
the house. Apparently, her stepmother had a dairy sensitivity, yet ate loads of Nutella, which had milk
in it. Not that Lydia would point that out to her. If Delia wanted to believe that she had a dairy
sensitivity, then so be it. It wouldn't last long, and she'd be on a new kick soon enough. When was her
stepmother not on some type of fad? Betelgeuse would have made some comment about Delia being a
faddist and following along with every fad because she can't think for herself.
A frown marred her features when the thought of her husband crossed her mind. Thinking of the
poltergeist made Lydia's chest tighten and reminded her of the reason that she was making hot cocoa in
the first place. More tears slid down her cheeks as her empty hand reached up to wipe them away, while
the other poured the powdered cocoa and the milk into the mug.
Christ, she was a blubbering mess. Her damn hormones were going a mile per minute and to have her
husband snap at her really didn't help. For the first time in their relationship, Betelgeuse had yelled at
her. Not even when they were arguing about something did he raise his voice. Usually her husband kept
his cool while they bickered with one another. Shit, they weren't even arguing at the time. That's how
she knew that something was wrong.
Placing the mug in the microwave and closing the door, the crying woman pressed the buttons that would
allow her drink to warm. She waited for it to beep, then she took it out and mixed everything together.
Before she could try it though, she heard the familiar footfalls of her husband's chunky boots, as they
slapped against the floor and made their way to her.
Her body stiffened when his arms wrapped around her waist and drew her back flush to his chest. She felt
him bury his face in the mounts of black hair, and his chest expanded as he took in a whiff of her warm
scent. For several minutes they just stood in the kitchen, both listening to the sound of each other's
shallow breaths.
Lydia felt Betelgeuse's face pull away from the back of her head and clear his throat before he spoke. "I'm
sorry, Baby. Shit, this had nothing to do with you. Remember I told ya that I have hang ups. Well, this
was one of them, okay?"
He buried his face once again in her hair, then rested his cheek on the back of her head. "That old bat is
the only who knows how I died and that's the way I like it. As you know, I got my rep to protect."
Betelgeuse let out a snort, as his hand began to rub her abdomen and continued. "Fuck Babe. I survived the
black motherfuckin' plague, only to die from a simple cut on my goddamn foot. No antibiotics when I lived,
Sweets. So once infection set in, well, I was fuckin' toast."
His face went back in her hair, then drew back with his tone rougher than usual. "When Junie told us to
take Bug in, cuz it sounded like she was dealing with an ear infection. Hell, all I heard was the word
infection and for the first time since I fuckin' died I felt an inkling of fear. All I could think about was
getting Bug checked out and some medicine in her as fast as we could. Baby, I didn't mean to snap at ya."
The sincerity in her husband's voice caused a sigh of relief from her at the same time as she carefully
turned around in his arms and stared up at him. "I didn't mean to push you Betelgeuse." She sniffed, and a
few tears fell from the corner of her eyes. "I was just worried that's all."
His cool fingers wiped away the trails of tears and let out a relieved breath of his own. "I know ya were,
Babes. I told ya before that I have hang ups. I've been around a helluva long time and ya keep the issues
ya die with, but also add some along the fuckin' way. Rest in peace my ass." The poltergeist snored then
gave his wife a toothy grin and he wiggled his brows.
A giggle bubble from her, while she shook her black head and placed a hand on his chest. "Are you resting
in peace now?" Lydia bit her lower lip and fluttered her wet lashes as her dark eyes peered up into his
own.
Betelgeuse's grin widened and dragged her tiny body even closer so that her hand was now trapped
between them. His cold breath tickled her lobe, and it caused a shiver to go down her spine. "Sweetheart,
this is the most peaceful I've ever been alive or dead."
"Really?"
"Damn straight, Babe. Not that I do a lot of resting though." He wiggled his eyebrows, which caused the
small woman to softly laugh and shake her head at him.
The poltergeist's eyes danced with mischief and wiggled his brows some more before he swooped in to kiss
his wife soundly on the lips. She let out a small moan and her free hand slid up to wrap around his neck as
she kissed him back with the same fever.
When her lungs felt like they were going to burst, Lydia drew back and caught the green eyes of her
husbands. The corner of her lips twitched upwards, while another delighted laugh spilled forth and
followed by her husband's smoky one.
Once they settled down, Betelgeuse brushed her cheek softly and cocked his head in the direction of the
entrance. "Baby, it's been one helluva day. How about we go upstairs, and I'll juice us something to eat
that won't get us sick?"
He snorted as Lydia glanced at the refrigerator, then back her husband with a nod. "Yeah, that sounds
good. Can we have pizza with pineapple and Canadian bacon?" Her mouth began to water at the thought
and her stomach seemed to rumble in agreement. Lydia quickly realized that she had not eaten since that
morning and that she was super hungry. Her stomach rumbled loudly again, and her face flushed brightly
from embarrassment.
Betelgeuse released his hold on her and chuckled, while he smirked down at her. "You are reading my
mind, sweetheart. Maybe I'll even juice us a tv and couch. We can have dinner and a movie. How does that
sound?"
Lydia took a step back placing her hand on her stomach and beamed up at him. "It sounds perfect. That's
exactly what me and this little one needs right now." It sounded wonderful and relatively normal. Plus,
she really was hungry. Incubating life wasn't easy, and it took a helluva lot out of a person.
Betelgeuse stepped closer and wove his arm around her waist, then drew her to his side once again. "Good
and hopefully we'll be able to get something in Bug when she wakes up." His chest heaved a sigh and his
free hand ran over his face, before looking down at his wife.
Lydia rested her head against his shoulder during which she bopped her dark head and padded his upper
body lightly with her hand. "Yeah, she really hasn't had an appetite. I'm sure we will be able to get
something in her tummy now that she has had some medicine in her."
The poltergeist kissed her crown and slowly lead her out of the room. "We'll see, Sweets. Now, let's go
feed you and lil bean."
Lydia paused in her tracks and pulled her husband back with her. "Betelgeuse, wait! I just made some hot
cocoa. I can't leave it!" Her gaze went back to the counter where her mug sat, then back the specter. He
gave her a wink and a grin, before snapping his fingers. The mug appeared in his hand and held it out to
her. "Here Babes."
Lydia smiled brightly as she took her hot cocoa and thanked him. "Thank you, B." He gave her another
wink and a laugh bubbled forth. She lightly shook her head at him, then carefully took a sip of the hot
cocoa. Her brown eyes widened in surprise and her lips smacked together. "Mmm…Delia was right. It is
good." She held it up and put the mug to her husband's lips. "Here try it."
Betelgeuse took a sip and shook his head in agreement. "Hm…Not bad babe. Kudos to Big Red. Who knew
her faddist ways would actually turn out to be good?"
Lydia couldn't believe that her husband had said the same thing that she had been thinking about
moments ago. See, she was right about him thinking Delia was faddist. A giggle slipped passed her lips,
though she did try to hide it by putting the mug to her mouth. It didn't work, but Betelgeuse didn't
comment. He just raised a pale brow, then shook his shaggy head at her. "Now that you have your hot
chocolate, Sweets. Let's get something in that belly of yours to feed you and our bean." He ran his hand
over her stomach, then began to lead her out of the room once again.

***

AN: Wow, it has been awhile. I wanted to update sooner, but this chapter really had me struggling. I kept
going back and changing things because I felt like something was missing. I still feel that way, but didn't
want to leave you all hanging. It's not my favorite chapter so far, though it is the longest that I have
done.
What did you all think? Did you like it or do you see the thing I am missing? Am I even missing anything
or is it just me nit-picking my work? Ugh.. I don't know..
Please drop me a review and maybe it will ease my troubled mind.

Chapter 11
Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with the Beetlejuice franchise nor do I make any money on
this. I just like the use the characters for my own twisted amusement.
Side note: I just want to state before you read, that I am not a doctor or medical practitioner of any
kind. There is a big chance that I may get things wrong because I'm going off of memory and my memory
is for shit. Plus, it has been a long time since I had my daughter and things have changed some. I also I
didn't have a midwife, so I'm going off of what I have found about appointments and all that goes with it.
If you see something that I may have missed feel free to leave a comment to let me know. I will try to
fix it as soon as possible. Now enough of my squawking. . Enjoy the new chapter!
***

Chapter 11

***

The weekend at her parents hadn't been as bad as Lydia had initially thought. Of course, it had ended
short because of Lucy being sick and to Lydia's surprise, her family had understood completely. Before
they had left, she had promised them that they would visit again to finish their discussion. The young
mother hoped that by the time that came around, her parents would be more accustom to her marriage
to the poltergeist.
After the upsetting weekend, the next couple of days seemed to pass by rather quickly. Lucy began to
return to her old sunny self and the small family got back to their daily routine. The topic of what Juno
had said to Betelgeuse had been brought up and the couple had decided that a netherworld midwife
would be perfect for their unorthodox situation. It would be safer to go with someone who knew what
they were doing. Plus, there were some things that neither really knew about when it came to this
pregnancy. Basically, they were both wading in uncharted territory.
Shortly after their discussion, Betelgeuse had come to her and stated that a Netherworld Midwife
named Irene would be at their house in the morning. He had told her that the deceased woman was an
acquaintance of his and someone that he trusted to take good care of her and their unborn child.
Lydia couldn't help but be intrigued by the thought of her husband having an acquaintance and someone
he trusted to boot. She knew that Betelgeuse trusted very few, so if he said her and their unborn baby
were in good hand then they were.
The morning of the appointment had the young mother sitting on the couch folding some laundry. Her
husband and daughter sat on the floor playing with a few building blocks. A chiming started to resound
throughout the house, causing the pregnant woman to jump and turn a nervous gaze to her husband.
"What is that?"
The poltergeist gave her a reassuring smile and passed Lucy a block, as he spoke. "It's okay, Sweets. It's
our alarm system for Netherfolk. I don't want Junie or any other fucker thinkin' that they can pop in
whenever the hell they feel like it. This is our house and we make the rules not them." Betelgeuse stood
up and walked to the fire place, where he snapped his fingers, causing it to contort into a large doorway.
The new door swung open and out stepped a short and wafer thin middle-aged woman with beautiful
silver hair place into a loose bun. She was also dressed in a dark blue garden print scrub top with
matching scrub pants and grey tennis shoes. Around her petite neck was a pair of black and blue hand
prints, which was clear sign that her death had been one of strangulation.
Lydia forced her eyes away from the bruising and hoped that the midwife had not noticed her staring.
She didn't want to come off as rude, nor did she want to insult her. Betelgeuse had once said that deaths
are very private subject matter and were not talked about unless the dead in question spoke about it
first.
Leaning down to pick up Lulu, she watched the dead woman smile at her husband then croaked out a
greeting. Her tone was even rougher than either the dead man or the nosey case worker. "Hey Geuse."
Betelgeuse nodded his head and made his way to his nervous wife. "Hey Irene." He gave Lydia an
encouraging smile, as his arm went around her waist and pulled her snuggly to his side.
The little girl wiggled in her mother's hold and reached out to grab her father's shirt as she tried to tug
herself into his arms. The poltergeist's attention moved from his wife to his noisy child. He sent Lucy an
amused grin then snatched her up and drew her tightly to his other side. Betelgeuse lightly kissed the
crown of her head, while Lulu rested her head against his shoulder and eyed the new person in the room.
The dead midwife watched the interaction in silence, then turned her attention to the petite woman and
sent her a gentle smile. "Hello my dear. You must be this lump's wife?"
Betelgeuse snorted noisily before he shot back at the practitioner. "Who ya callin' a lump, Iron maiden?"
Irene sent him a sharp glare, then sniffed at him and rolled her eyes. "Funny Geuse. Now don't get your
boxers in a bunch and let me do my job."
The poltergeist cocked his head and raised a pale brow, while he cheekily shot back. "You haven't been
doing it so far."
The midwife rolled her eyes once again and quipped at the heckling dead man. "You rudely interrupted."
Irene didn't wait for him to reply as she averted her attention to the quiet woman in front of her. "Now
Sweetie, what is your name?"
Lydia gazed back and forth between her husband and the midwife, then gave the dead woman a nervous
smile. "Lydia and it's nice to meet you."
"That is such a pretty name you have, my dear. I'm Irene, and it's nice to meet you as well." Her warm
gaze moved to the child in the poltergeist's arms and cooed gently to the small youngster. "And who is
this little one?"
Lucy shied away from the unknown person and curled into her father. Betelgeuse tightened his hold on
her and gave her another a light kiss, while he flashed a grin and boasted proudly to the midwife. "This is
my Bug."
Irene locked her fingers behind her back and rocked on the balls of her feet as she directed her question
at Lydia with an amused smile. "I'm assuming Bug is a nickname?"
Lydia let out a laugh and patted her husband's chest while her nerves began to slowly melt away. She
shook her head and informed the midwife that it was indeed a nickname. "Yes, it is. Her name is Lucinda,
but we call her Lucy for short."
The practitioner's smile widened in delight and gushed in the direction of the little girl. "Awe, another
pretty name. You are too cute." Irene's gaze turned back to Lydia and asked another question. "How old is
she?"
Lydia fluffed Lulu's hair lightly and answered the midwife. "She's 8 months old."
"She is so adorable." Irene gushed at the pregnant mother, then move her focus to the dead man. "It seems
that you will have two little ones in the near future." She laughed enthusiastically and sent Betelgeuse
an amused smirk. "Geuse, you are in for one wild ride."
The poltergeist shrugged his shoulders and scoffed. "Nothin' I can't handle." His gaze dropped down to
Lucy, then back to Irene with a huge content grin. "It will be well worth it."
"That it is. It's something very special." Irene's happy smile dropped as her eyes dimmed slightly. Her
hand went to the bruises on her neck and brushed them slightly as she spoke. "Take in every moment. You
never know what can happen." She shook her head and her bright smile returned just as quickly as it had
disappeared. The midwife turned to the poltergeist and inquired about a few things. "Did you get all the
stuff that I will need?"
Betelgeuse snapped his fingers and a huge bag appeared on the coffee table. On the other side of the room,
a portable examination table materialized in the corner along with a few other items. "Yeah, I got the
things ya wanted from that list of yours."
"Good. This will make everything go a lot smoother." Said Irene as she went to the bag and opened it. The
midwife pulled out a bunch of papers then pointed in the direction of the couch. "Why don't we sit on the
sofa? I have some questions for you first."
Lydia nodded quickly and detached herself from her husband. "Okay sure." She made her way to the couch
and sat down with a smile, while her hands folded onto her lap. Betelgeuse went to place Lucy in her
activity jumper before making his way to his wife.
Irene clicked the pen and began to write things on the top sheet, then she turned her face to the waiting
couple. "What is your full name?"
"It's Lydia Joyce Geist."
The midwife snorted and sent the poltergeist an amused smirk as she scribbled it down. "Geist? Clever
Geuse." Betelgeuse returned her smirk with one of his own and a wink, but didn't say anything back to the
dead woman.
The older woman let out a small laugh, as she continued with her inquiry. "Any other pregnancies besides
your daughters?"
Lydia glanced at her child happily playing with in her activity chair than back to the practitioner with
a shake of her head. "No. Lucy was my first pregnancy."
Irene tapped the pen against her pale lips and continued to write as she asked the young woman another
question. "Was there any complication with the pregnancy?"
Thank the fates that there had been no ramifications because of the trauma that Luke had caused. With
Lucy it had been a typical and healthy pregnancy and had been right on track the whole time. "No, there
were no complications. It was a relatively normal pregnancy."
The midwife hummed to herself and continued to jot down Lydia's answers, while asking her other
questions. "Are you currently taking any medications?
"No. I'm not taking anything." Lydia shook her head once again and reached out to grab her husband's
hand. Betelgeuse sent her a warm smile and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
Irene flashed a small smile at the couple as the queries persisted. "Okay. Any family history of diseases
or genetic conditions?"
The pregnant woman chewed on her bottom lips and thought about her family history. Nothing seemed to
come to mind. She had asked her father when she had been pregnant with Lucy if there were any history
on either side, but he had said that he knew of none. "No family history that I know of."
"Good. Any history of smoking and/or alcohol consumption?"
Lydia shook her head once again, before she answered the midwife's question. "I was never a smoker, and I
used to drink occasionally before my first pregnancy, but I haven't since then."
The dead woman's gaze trained on the poltergeist and aimed a question in his direction. "Geuse, you still
smoke?"
He raised a brow and cocked his head, then answered the waiting practitioner. "Yeah, but I don't smoke in
the house, if that's what you're askin'. I know what secondhand smoke can do to a breather and I ain't
riskin' my family, woman." His hold on his wife's hand tightened and sent her an 'are we done yet' look.
Lydia gave her husband a small nod of her head to tell him that they were not finished, then a look of
annoyance, before turning back to the dead woman.
The midwife herself looked pleased with Betelgeuse's response and sent him a look of approval, seeming to
miss the exchange between the couple. "Good." Irene then turned from the poltergeist to his pregnant
partner and reached out to lightly pat her knee. "My dear, I know that there's quite a bit of questions,
but we are almost done and can move to the physical soon."
Apparently, the dead woman hadn't missed their interaction after all. Lydia elbowed her husband in the
ribs causing him to glare down at her. She wasn't the least bit intimated as she rolled her eyes then
moved to the midwife and tried to reassure her. "It's fine. I've been through all of this before and know
that these questions are important."
Irene went to pat her knee some more then pulled away and began to flip through the pile of papers on
her lap. She looked up when she found the thing she had been searching for and set the item on top of the
stack, before returning to her inquiries. "Now when was the last day of your period?"
Lydia's dark eyes widened, and she began to nibble on her bottom lip again as she tried to remember her
last day. "Um… I think it was around July 10th." She hoped that was the day. Her memory was a little
fuzzy on that detail. Usually on the day of your last period, you are just happy that it's finally over with
for the month.
The midwife clicked her tongue and scanned what seemed like some type of chart. "Hmm…Let's
see…that would mean your due date will be about…" She scanned the chart then stared up at the
couple with a wide grin. "April 17th. Awe, a spring baby, how lovely. I have to say it seems fitting, though.
A new life for when life is awakening everywhere."
Betelgeuse released his wife's hand and wrapped it around her shoulders. He pulled her to him and leaned
in to plant a kiss on her temple. "It does seem fitting, doesn't it Babe?" Her face turned up and offered him
a warm smile, while placing her hand on her abdomen. "Yeah, it does."
Irene cleared her throat to draw the couple's attention back to her and moved quickly to the next
question. "Sorry to interrupt, but have you thought about your birthing options?"
Lydia's lips twisted as she thought about her options and their unusual situation. "Well, since our
circumstances are different. I think it would be best for a home birth. I would like to try a water birth if
that is possible."
Betelgeuse's brow rose while he cut into the conversation. "Isn't that where ya sit in a pool or something?
Why would ya wanna do that babe?"
She went to pat the top of his hand affectionately and beamed over at him. "It helps with the pain, B."
"Oh…" Yeah, her husband was probably not expecting that answer and clearly didn't know what to say
next. The loud and foulmouthed poltergeist was a loss for words. It reminded her of the day when she
told him that she was pregnant. That thought made a giggle bubble forth, but she tried to hide it with a
hand to the mouth and a small cough.
The midwife's lips twitched in amusement, while she took out a small notepad to jot down a note. "I don't
see why you couldn't. I will have to get a list together, so your husband can get the things we will need
for that. We will also need to create an emergency plan should anything arise."
As soon as the midwife's words were spoken, Betelgeuse was no longer silent. "Woman, don't worried
about that. If shit goes wrong, I'll have her at the hospital before you could blink. I'm your emergency
plan, so don't worry."
Irene jotted something else down then looked up at the poltergeist. She tipped her head at him and
agreed with his statement. "That seems best, since I can't be seen by another person other than you folks."
She turned from the couple and went back to the paperwork. "Hmm…let's see." She flipped through the
papers, then set them down on the coffee table. "Okay, we are now finally done with all of those
questions." Irene tilted her head in the direction of the examination table. "Why don't we start the
exam?"
Betelgeuse got up and moved to where little Lulu was playing to give the woman some space. He went to
grab some of the blocks laying on the floor, then sat down next to the small child and passed her one.
Lucy took the hunk happily and stuffed a corner in her mouth, while she tried to seize another block from
her father's hand.
Lydia watched her husband and child for a few minutes, before she switched her attention back to the
midwife. She smiled at the practitioner as she stood up. "Sure." Irene led Lydia to the examination table
and the exam commenced.
The checkup was just like any other first examination for a pregnant woman with the practitioner
getting her weight and height, a blood pressure, and of course the physical aspect along with some blood
draws. To the young mother's surprise, it was over quickly, and they were on the couch once again to
finish up the appointment.
Irene beamed at Lydia and reached out to pat her hand softly as she voiced her thoughts. "Well Lydia,
everything looks like it is going just the way it should be. I would like you to start some prenatal
vitamins. You can get them at any pharmacy or store. Do you have any questions my dear?"
Any tension the pregnant woman may have had seemed to melt away with the conformation that
everything was right on track and there didn't seem to be any problems. Lydia's cheeks puffed then
released a relieved breath as her head bobbed to indicate that she did have a question of her own. "Yes.
With my last pregnancy I wasn't so tired, but with this one I'm just beat. Do you know why that is?"
The midwife rubbed her chin while she thought about it. "Hmm…I would guess that it is because of
Geuse's power. It must be overcompensating for, well, him not being alive. It seems to be putting your
body into overdrive. Does that answer your question?"
The older woman's explanation did make complete sense and made Lydia feel even better. A relieved
smile formed on her lips and she shook her black hair everywhere. "Yes, thank you, it does."
"Are there any other questions?"
Nope. None that Lydia could think of. That had been her only question, though she knew if some did come
to mind she would just bring them up at the next appointment. "No, I don't have any more."
Her husband's smoky voice cut into the conversation and captured the women's attention from one
another. His eyes drifted between them then landed on the midwife. "Oi Gricelda, I have one."
Irene didn't look pleased with the new nickname and sent the dead man a glare with a raised brow. "And
that would be?"
Betelgeuse tilted his head in his wife's direction and asked his question. "Is she and the baby safe if I juice
with them then?"
Irene's lips twisted together as she contemplated his words. "I would think that they would be perfectly
safe. I cannot see why it would hurt them, since your juice is a huge contributor in this pregnancy."
A pleased expression slid on his features and he sent his wife a smug grin. "See Babe I told ya that you
and little bean would be safe. Ya worried for nothin'. I know what my juice can do, Sweets."
Lydia forced herself not to roll her eyes at her boastful partner and shoved her fingers through her
dark hair as she sighed softly. "B, it was better to be safe than sorry. We've already had this
conversation."
He snorted loudly while he passed another block to their child. "I know that woman, but like I told ya
before, I know what my juice can do, and I'd never put either of you in danger."
His wife frowned and opened her mouth to retort back, when the midwife cleared her throat and
interrupted the couple. Both twisted in the direction of the practitioner and watched as she focused on
the poltergeist. "Geuse, do you have any more questions?"
His green eyes flicked to his annoyed wife then to the midwife with a shake of his head. "Naw, that was
the only one that I had."
Irene reached out and began to place the paperwork on the coffee table in a manila folder. "Well my dear,
if you don't have any more questions, then it is time for me to go." She slid the folder into the bag and
zipped it closed then turned to Betelgeuse. Irene flicked her finger at the supplies as she spoke. "Geuse,
what do you want me to do with the stuff?"
They all stood up and waited for Betelgeuse to answer. He waved flippantly at the items as he bent down
to pick up his daughter. "Don't worry about it. I'm working on something."
The midwife lightly shrugged as she moved her attention to her new client. "Okay." Irene smiled brightly
at Lydia and held out her hand to say goodbye. "It was a pleasure to meet you and I look forward to
seeing you at future appointments."
Lydia grabbed a hold of the dead woman's hand and shook it gently as she returned the smile with one of
her own. "It was nice to meet you as well and thank you for doing this."
Irene's other hand reached up and patted the young mother's hand lightly. "Oh, it was no problem,
Sweetheart. I'm just helping out an old friend."
Another snort emanated from the poltergeist and he eyed the midwife with a raised brow. "Who said we
were friends?"
Irene moved her hands away from Lydia's and rested them on her hips. Her own brow rose as her lips
twisted and she sent him an 'who you are fooling' look. "Deny it all you want, Geuse. I'm your friend and
probably your only one at that."
Lydia watched the two specters in amusement and bit her lip to try to stop herself from busting out in
laughter. No matter what her husband may deny, it seemed that friendship was exactly what the two
ghosts had.
The poltergeist scoffed noisily and rolled his eyes. "Think what ya want, woman."
Irene sent Betelgeuse another grin, then continued with her goodbyes. "I will see you both at the next
appointment. Geuse, you know how to get a hold of me and please do if anything should happen."
He tipped his head in acknowledgment and he addressed her with a sly smirk. "You will be the first to
know if it does. See ya Mercury."
Irene gave him another pointed look, then rolled her eyes. She ignored the cheeky dead man and waved
goodbye to his wife. "Bye Lydia."
The young mother gestured back and watched as the midwife stepped through the make shift door and
shut it behind her.
Betelgeuse quickly juiced it closed, before he turned to his wife and rubbed his stomach. "Babe, you think
we can have lunch early? I'm starvin'."
Lydia laughed at her husband's antics and shook her dark mane at him. "Sure, come on. I'll make you some
of those chicken sandwiches that you like." Her stomach rumbled loudly and caused the young mother to
chuckle some more, then rest her hand on her own belly. "I guess I'm kind of hungry myself."
The specter gave his hungry spouse a wink, as he adjusted his daughter on his hip and directed a smile at
the little girl. "How about you Bug? You hungry?" He poked the small child in the belly and a giggle
sprang from her along with a tiny bob of her head. The poltergeist barked out a laugh and made his way
to the kitchen.
Later that night had the couple curled up on the couch watching an action movie that had taken far too
long to decide on. Both had wanted to watch a different kind of movie; Betelgeuse had wanted a dark
comedy, and Lydia had coveted something that was Action packed. When they couldn't come to an
agreement, the couple had decided to flip for it. Tails for her and head for him. Her husband had lost,
though she couldn't help but wonder if he had let her win. Lydia swore that it had landed on heads. Not
that it mattered because they would most likely end up watching the one he wanted afterwards.
Her lids started to become heavy as she tried to concentrate on the characters on the screen. Lydia
blinked her eyes several times to attempt to stay awake. Right now, she couldn't let herself fall asleep.
They rarely got any time alone and with the baby coming they would have even less. They had to take
what they could get and at night seemed to be the only time that they were able to sit down and be with
one another.
She felt the cool fingers of her husband's stroke along the length of her arm and his smoky voice rose
over the tv. "Babe, ya still awake?"
Lydia cocked her head to the side to peer up and whisper at him. "Yeah, I'm still up."
Betelgeuse flashed a toothy smile down at her and snapped his fingers to produce something in his hand.
"Good. I have somethin' for ya."
'What…?' Lydia silently thought as she pulled herself up on the couch and eyed the small package in her
husband's grip. "You got me something?"
Betelgeuse moved so that he was facing his tiny wife and shook his shaggy head. "Yeah, I did."
Why would he do that? It wasn't like there was a special occasion to celebrate. She was genuinely
perplexed as to why he would want to give her something. Lydia couldn't help but voice her
bewilderment. "Why?"
The poltergeist rolled his green eyes then released a snort before he spoke. "Woman, do I need a reason
to get my wife somethin'?"
No, it just wasn't something that she was used to. Sadly, the guys that she had dated weren't the gift
giving type. Lydia ran a hand through her raven strands and sighed softly. "Of course not. I just didn't
expect anything that' s all."
"Yeah. Well, expect this shit from time to time." He quickly pushed the package into her hand and waited
for her to open it. "Go on and open it, Sweets."
Lydia inspected the dark bundle as she rotated it slowly in her hand. It looked to be some type of jewelry
case. She studied the box for the opening and carefully lifted the lid to reveal a gorgeous necklace. "Oh
my…it's beautiful, Betelgeuse." She gently took it out and dangled it in front of her to get a better look.
The black chain was long and thin, while the matching beetle was the size of a silver dollar and the jewel
embedded in the center glowed brightly in the darkness. It truly was a stunning piece and distinctively
her taste. Lydia was surprised that her husband knew her so well, especially with them only being
together for 3 months. How did he know all this? Was she really that transparent? All the young woman
knew was that this man just kept amazing her the longer that they were together.
Betelgeuse flashed another toothy grin and reached out to delicately take the necklace from her hold. "I
thought you'd like it. Here Babes, let me help you put it on."
Nodding, Lydia twisted so that her back was to him as she lifted her long hair to allow her husband
easier access. His cool breath tickled the shell of her ear, while he leaned in and lifted the chain in front
of her. He drew the necklace around her neck to clasp it closed, then inclined back to let her turn around
to face him. Lydia gently touched the beetle as she softly thanked him. "Betelgeuse, Thank you. I love it."
He sent her a wink this time, before kicking back on the couch with his feet moving to rest on the coffee
table. "You're welcome, Sweets."
Her gaze refocused on the beetle pendant and her fingers curled around it. She carefully picked it up and
moved the adornment from side to side. Lydia watched as the green hue shifted then eyed the
poltergeist. "The color of the jewel glows like your eyes." She internally cringed because she knew that
sounded cheesy, but it was true. The shade really did match her husbands.
Betelgeuse swung his attention from her to the necklace then back as he locked his hands behind his head
and sprouted a huge grin. "Rrrreeeeally…. They glow, Sweets?"
Lydia felt a blush creep up her neck and to her face but tried to cover it with a nervous laugh and a quick
shake of her head. "Stop teasing me, B."
He wiggled his brows and his chest shook from his own laughter. "I just can't help myself. You're too damn
cute." The poltergeist laughed some more, before he sobered up. "Babes, you wanna know why it looks like
that?" Lydia nodded quickly as she waited for him to continue. Betelgeuse unlocked his fingers and leaned
forward to brush a few locks off her forehead, while he continued to talk. "It's like that, Baby, cuz it has
some of my juice infused in it."
Her dark eyes closed for a second as his fingertips grazed her skin, then opened them when he pulled
away. She furrowed her brows as she thought about what he had just said. The pendant was imbued with
his juice? Why would he do that? What was the reason to juice this piece? Lydia was certain that there
was a good reason as to why. With this man there was always some method to whatever he did. He had a
plan for a plan for another plan. She gazed back down to the necklace then to her husband and questioned
him. "What…? Why is it infused with your power?"
The poltergeist popped his feet off the table and sat up. He grasped one of her hands between his own,
before he answered her inquiry. "Babe, it's to keep you and Bug safe. If you should ever need me, all ya
have to do is say my name three times. Just like old times, though It will only work for you. I don't need
some asshat thinkin' that they can control me. That shit will never happen again."
A frown marred her lips as she looked at her husband in confusion. "But…we're already safe with
you…"
Betelgeuse lifted her hand and turned it over to kiss the palm, then pulled back to look at her. "I know ya
are, Sweets, but it would make me feel better if ya had somethin' for when I'm not around. Call it a
security measure of sorts. It's just like our warning system. Plus, I'm not sayin' anything is gonna happen.
It's just in case of an emergency."
Lydia didn't say anything as she thought on his words. What he said made sense and if she were honest
with herself, it made her feel better to know that her husband would be only three words from them.
After the events that had happened with Luke, she had realized that shit could happen at any moment. It
was better to be prepared than to have nothing at all. Her captured hand squeezed his affectionately and
a warm smile flashed at him in return. "If it makes you feel better, then I will wear it always."
He brought her hand up to his cool lips again, but this time to kiss her knuckles. "Good. Now let's finish
that movie of yours. I think we miss a helluva lot of it." Betelgeuse sent her a wink as his hand released
hers then moved to lie down on the couch. He lightly patted the spot in front of him and watched as she
shifted from her current position to the one she had before. A content sigh escaped as her head went to
rest on his arm, while his other hand lightly caressed her abdomen and a leg draped over his own.
Lydia reached above her head and blindly felt for the remote on the side table. Her hand found the small
piece of plastic and snatched it up to rewind the video to the part where they had stopped watching.
Once the scene was located, she pressed play and they settled comfortably in to finish it.
When the credits rolled, the pregnant woman spoke softly to her husband. "Betelgeuse, Can I ask you
something?"
She felt him shrug his shoulders as he used the remote to change the movie to something else. "Sure Babe."
"How did you meet Irene?" Lydia had been wondering this for some time, especially after their
appointment. The midwife had stated that they were friends, even though her husband had denied it. You
could see that they had some type of friendship. She turned to lay on her back so that she could stare up
at him as he flicked through the movies on the tv.
Betelgeuse must have found what had wanted, because theme music blared out of the speakers and he
tossed the remote on the side table. "I helped her out when she first woken up. "
Her brows furrowed together, and confusion colored her tone. "Woken up? What is that?"
He brushed some hair out of her face and answered her question. "That's what we call it after we die,
Babe. We wake up like we were just sleepin'."
"Oh…" Lydia couldn't stop her curiosity as she wondered about her husband's own awakening. The words
sprang forth before she could stop them. "So…When did you wake up?" She bit her bottom lip and
regretted not curbing her inquisitiveness. He had told her countless times that deaths were private and
shouldn't be brought up unless the deceased chose to.
The poltergeist didn't say anything for a couple of minutes as if he were debating with himself. His
fingers ran through his light mop and he swallowed roughly, while his tone came out low and shaky.
"October 29th…."
Lydia's mouth fell open and couldn't believe what he had just said. "You're kidding, right?"
Betelgeuse shook his head and rubbed his face, before he blew out a deep breath and spoke. "Naw, I don't
kid about that, Sweets. You don't forget the day ya awaken."
Maybe they really were meant to be with each other. What else could it be? It seemed too much of a
coincidence. "Betelgeuse…that's my birthday."
His hand dropped from face and his own mouth dropped open. "Seriously, Babe?" She nodded her raven
head and he moved to lean over her with a triumphant grin. "See I told ya Baby…We are meant to be."
Lydia's dark eyes danced with mischief and a large smile of her own grew, as her hand went up to caress
his cheek. "Destiny or some shit like that?"
His eyes glowed brightly as he towered above her. "Fuck yeah, Babes." Betelgeuse hooted loudly, then
swooped in to kiss her soundly.

***

AN: Hi all! I finally finished this chapter and I like it more than the last one. I really enjoyed writing
the interaction between Irene and Betelgeuse and I hope to get more into their friendship in later
chapters. Betelgeuse needs friends too and ones that will call him on his bullshit. Also, all the names that
Betelgeuse used were referring to her silver hair. I'm sure you all figured that out, but I thought I'd
mention it anyway.
I'm not sure when the next update will be, but it will be some time soon. Thank you all for the comments
and I am glad that you are still enjoying my story.

Chapter 12
Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with the Beetlejuice franchise, nor do I make any money from
this. The only thing I own is Lucy and Irene and I'm okay with that. The rest I just borrow for my own
twisted amusement.

***

Chapter 12

***

Fall was swiftly upon them as the leaves began to turn various shades of orange, red and yellow. They
littered the lawns and sidewalks here and there and the sound of footfalls and crunching echoed
everywhere.
This was the time of year in Connecticut that Lydia loved, and it was prime for capturing some beautiful
pieces. Now that the desire to whip out her camera had returned, the young mother wanted to get back
in the swing of things. She had to say that it was nice to feel the weight of the device in her hands and
to hear the snap of the shutter once again. Her lips twisted into a frown as her thoughts moved to the
reason she had stopped to begin with. Lydia couldn't believe that she had allowed a certain douchebag to
rob her of something so important. Never would she let anyone have that much power over her again.
A sigh escaped as she chased away her thoughts and focused on the leaves that danced across her lawn.
It was a gorgeous scene and had Lydia wishing that she could slip outside to capture the moment. The
urge would have to wait though as it was an appointment day and the first time that they would try to
hear their baby's heartbeat.
A sudden rush of excitement overshadowed the impulse and one of her hands trailed down to her
abdomen and cradled it lightly, while a smile graced her features. They were going to hear their baby's
heartbeat! The elation grew, and the smile on her face widened as she caressed her lower belly then
turned her dark eyes from the window to her husband and midwife. She watched as the two squabbled
with one another over the workings of the medical equipment.
The silver-haired midwife had her hands on her hips as she questioned the clearly annoyed poltergeist.
"Are you sure this is going to work Geuse?"
The dead man just rolled his green eyes and huffed loudly. "I told ya that the electronics are juiced,
Irene. They should work for ya just like they did when you were a breather."
Irene sent the pregnant woman sitting on the table a raised brow then softly snorted and thumbed in the
direction of the fetal doppler. "He says that this thing will work, so why don't you lie down Lydia and we
will see."
Betelgeuse looked at the dead woman in outrage and harshly barked out his words. "Oi, it will work
woman! Why does everyone question my judgement? I know what my power can and can't do!"
The midwife scoffed as she made her way to the hand-held doppler. "Your past actions say otherwise, so if
it blows ups I'm holding you accountable, Geuse."
The poltergeist ran a hand roughly through his messy hair and stomped his foot in frustration. "Fuckin'-
A, Nothin' is gonna blow up! I'm not gonna put no one in danger, so don't be overly dramatic."
She turned to face the couple and planted a hand on her hip once again while she raised her brows. "Who
says I'm being overly dramatic? I'd say it's more like realistic. Now are you going to let me do my job or
are you going to continue to interfere?"
"I ain't interfering with nothin'." Betelgeuse swept his hands in front of him and mockingly bowed.
"Continue on, Quicksilver." Irene glared and pinched her lips together as she shook her head at him. The
practitioner went to snag the doppler then made her way back to her waiting patient.
Lydia giggled at the two and watched as Irene turned to her with a sigh and a small smile before she
spoke. "Okay back to the appointment." Irene approached Lydia and explained what may or may not happen
when they do the doppler. "Please know that there is a chance that we will not catch the heartbeat this
time around. If we don't find it today, then we will try again at our next appointment. Okay?"
Lydia returned her rely with a nod as Irene moved in to place the doppler on her belly.
The sound of her own heart beat could be heard through the doppler speaker, while Irene swiveled the
device in several places. "Hmmm…" She made a few sounds as she moved it around and only stopping
when a faster beating filtered in with the louder one. "There is it!" The midwife turned to the couple and
smiled brightly.
Liquid pooled in Lydia's brown eyes and her lip quivered slightly as the sound of their baby's heartbeat
came out clear and strong. It was beautiful and tangible. Not that it hadn't felt real to the young mother
but seeing a urinated stick and hearing your unborn child's heartbeat were two very different things.
Hearing the powerful thumps was the sweet confirmation that there was indeed a tiny being growing
within her womb. It was one thing to know that she was pregnant, but it was another to hear the proof.
Her hand slid over to grasp her husband's and gave it a squeeze to draw his attention. "Betelgeuse…"
The poltergeist looked over at her with wide eyes and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed roughly.
"Shit Sweetheart…that's…our baby?" Lydia shook her head while the tears finally began to spill down
her cheeks. Betelgeuse's gaze softened at the sight of her waterworks and tried to ease them. "Hey Baby.
Come on, don't cry." His other hand reached out to wipe away the trails then cupped her cheek.
She leaned into his touch and flashed him a watery smile. "I can't help it. I'm just so happy."
He let go of her cheek and brought the hand he was holding up to his lips to kiss her knuckles. The same
emotion overcame him as he grazed her glowing features and couldn't help the twitch of his lips against
her smooth skin. Betelgeuse pulled back to give her a large smirk of his own and tried to convey that
sentiment to his emotional wife. "Me too, Sweets. More than I have ever been dead or alive."
Lydia's wet eyes expanded at his revelation and sucked in a sharp breath before gawking up at him
owlishly. Her mind suddenly swirled with countless questions. Was he serious? He was happier than he
had ever been alive? Surely that couldn't be true? Before their family, he had to have had another one.
Was he saying that he hadn't been content in his prior life? "Really?"
His green eyes lit up and he sent her a sharp nod while his voice held his conviction. "Fuck yeah! You and
our kids are the best thing to ever happen to me!" Betelgeuse kissed her hand again then grinned even
wider. "Baby, you guys keep me grounded and sane." He winked at her and wiped away the rest of the
droplets on her face. "Now enough with the tears, Sweetheart."
Her eyes closed for a second as his fingertips glided lightly across her cheekbone. She softly sniffled, then
beamed brightly at him with a shake of her dark mane. "Okay. I'll try."
Betelgeuse lifted her hand to his lips one more time and drew back with another toothy grin. "That's my
girl." Lydia returned it with one of her own and squeezed his cool hand affectionately.
A clearing of the throat dragged the couple away from each other to the waiting Practitioner. Irene
smiled kindly at them and continued with what she had to say. "Sorry to interrupt you folks, but we
should really continue with the appointment."
The young mother's face flushed with color while she hastily shook her head and returned the midwife's
smile. Her husband chuckled loudly and waved off the dead woman with his hand. "Naw, you're good."
"If you say so Geuse." Irene raised her silver brows as she pulled the doppler away and stepped back from
the examination table.
The poltergeist helped his tiny partner straighten her clothes and sit up while they waited for the
midwife to continue.
Irene switched off the device and directed a reassuring smile their way. Her tone was gentle and
reassuring as she spoke. "So, you two, it seems like everything is going quite well. The baby's heartbeat
sounds very strong and doesn't appear to show any irregularities." She came closer and lightly patted
Lydia's knee. "You my dear, are doing all the right things to ensure a healthy pregnancy. Do either of you
have any concerns or questions?"
Lydia shifted her gaze to her husband with raised brows as if to silently ask him if he had any. He
indicated that he did not, and she turned back to the midwife with a quick shake. "No, we don't have any."
"Okay. If you do end up with any. Please feel free to contact me or just let me know at your next
appointment." The midwife stated while she stepped back once again and slowly began to put away her
supplies.
Betelgeuse carefully helped his pregnant wife from the table and watched as the dead women finished
her packing then turned her attention back to them.
Irene held a folder against her chest as she said her goodbyes to the couple. "Well Folks, I should be
going." The practitioner waved and carefully made her way to make-shift door. "I will see you both at the
next appointment. Bye you two."
"Bye Irene." Lydia returned with the same gesture, while her husband wrapped his arm around her waist
and cocked his head at the midwife. "See ya, Iron Maiden."
A snort left the practitioner and she rolled eyes at one of the many ridiculous nicknames the dead man
likes to bestow upon her. "Yeah, Yeah, Geuse. See you." With that said, Irene waved once more then
snapped the door closed behind her and left the couple standing alone in their family room.
Betelgeuse rested his pale cheek against his wife's dark crown and lightly caressed her growing bump.
"That was a trip, wasn't it Babe?"
Lydia practically vibrated with happiness as she twisted to look up at him. "Yeah, it definitely was." Her
tiny hand moved to clutch his button down and beamed widely. "Holy shit, we're having a baby! I cannot
wait to meet him or her!"
The poltergeist's rough laughter rumbled throughout the room and he leaned in to gently kiss her
temple. "Neither can I sweets."
She sighed heavily and laid her head against his broad chest. Her pointer finger came up to make small
circles on his clothed pec as she asked him a question. "B, what do you think our little bean is?"
The dead man snorted and spoke with humor laced in his tone. "Human…"
Lydia stopped drawing circles and swatted his chest lightly before rolling her eyes. "Ha ha. You're so
funny. Seriously though, what do think we are having?"
The small woman felt her husband shrug and blow out a large breath of air. "Babes, I really don't care
what it is as long as it's healthy and strong. Boy. Girl. It makes no difference to me."
"Yeah…" She went back to drawing circles while she continued. "That's what I was thinking too. Though I
wouldn't mind a boy since we already have a girl, but I'd be happy with either."
Betelgeuse grazed his lips against her crown and pulled back to raise up his free arm to check the time. He
glanced at his watch then released a low groan. "Babes, I hate to cut our conversation short, but I gotta
get going. We will talk more on this tonight, okay?"
Lydia released another sigh and stepped away from her husband with a pout and a small shrug. "Sure…"
His hand reached up and brushed some loose strands from her face before trying to sooth the hormonal
upset. "Awe sweetheart, don't be like that. I don't want to go either, but duty calls." Betelgeuse ran his
fingers roughly through his raggedy mane then fixed his jacket as he remembered something. "Oh yeah. I
just wanna let you know that my appointments may run a little late, so I don't think I'll make lunch. You
gonna be okay with that?"
"Yeah…I'll be fine." She leaned in and raised up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. "I'll miss you
though."
Betelgeuse snagged her waist and dragged her to him. His cool breath tickled her lips while he softly
spoke. "I'll miss ya too. Fuck, I always do. It's only for a couple of hours, though, and I'll be home early
tonight. All right?" His cool green eyes scanned her features and watched her shake her head at his
words. He smiled broadly and closed the distance between their lips to kiss her thoroughly, before he
pulled back to peer at his watch once again. Another groan spilled from him as he let go of his tiny wife
and stepped back. "I really need to go Sweets. I will see ya tonight, Babe." The poltergeist leaned in to
give her a quick kiss goodbye then popped quickly out of sight.
The pregnant woman stared at the spot where her husband had just been and sighed deeply. She really
didn't want him to go. No, she wanted him to stay so they could continue to revel in the wonderous
moment. It was so very special, and Lydia didn't want to be alone to enjoy it. All she wanted was her
damn husband to be with her. Tears started to pool in her dark eyes and she cursed aloud. "Ugh! Stupid
hormones!" She wiped the liquid from her vision and sniffled. Christ she was being silly and a little
irrational. Okay…it was more than a little, but she couldn't help the way she was feeling. These
hormones got out of hand at times and struck when they weren't really needed.
Taking in some calm breaths, Lydia tried to relax and realized that she needed to do something to
unwind. Her gaze moved to the coffee table and spotted her camera. That's right! Earlier she had wanted
to go snap some shots, and this would be a perfect time to settle down. Yes, she would go outside for a bit,
and It would be good for Lulu as well. With that decided, Lydia went about to bundle up herself and Lulu,
before grabbing her camera and heading outside.
Several hours after the outing found the pregnant mother relaxing on the couch feeling much calmer and
more centered then she had earlier that morning. It seemed that capturing some shots was just what she
had needed to sooth her unstable emotions.
Lydia reached out to grab a cracker, while her other hand held tightly to her Lemonade as she waited
for Lucy to wake up from her nap. She nibbled around the edges of the biscuit to try and curb the nausea
that occasionally sprang out of nowhere. Morning sickness her ass. The nausea hit at anytime and
anywhere. It was as bad as the damn mood swings. She really hoped that it went away soon.
Lydia lifted the tart beverage and slowly sipped from it as she mused on the fact that normally she
disliked sour things. It wasn't her thing. No, she was more into sugary goodness. Ooh, a big and fluffy
cotton candy sounded nice now. Hmm…did they even have lemon cotton candy? Her mouth began to
water at the thought.
Crap! Now Lydia wanted that instead of her lemonade. Her bottom lip protruded, and her brows furrowed,
while a remorseful sigh released in the air. Damn, these cravings were going to eventually overwhelm
her! Thank god that her husband could get whatever she hungered for whenever the urge struck. Lydia
wondered if her husband would be able to find some of that candyfloss? If not, perhaps he could get her
that lemon tart she had when she had went shopping last? Her mouth began to water again at the
thought of the flaky and tarty pastry. Awe shit! Now she had a hankering for that delicious tart too.
Ugh! Stupid longings were going to be the death of her!
Finishing the rest of her cracker, Lydia tried to shake the sudden yearning and clear her mind for the
tasks at hand. Some things still needed to be completed before the day was through. She set the drink
down on the side table and went back to folding the laundry that she had taken a mini break from.
A few minutes passed as she gathered the articles of clothing and placed them in their separate baskets.
Lydia paused in mid fold when the doorbell resounded throughout the room. She laid the towel to the
side, while her brows furrowed once again, and her thoughts drifted to who it might be. It wasn't like she
had been very social these last couple of years, not since meeting Luke and becoming pregnant. Sadly, she
lost many ties because of both.
The bell continued to ring, and the young mother let out a groan before slowly pulling herself off the
couch. She snagged the baby monitor from the stand then quickly made her way to the entry.
Upon opening the front door, Lydia spied two men dressed in suits standing on her threshold. They
stepped back when she went to open the screen door and greeted them. "Hello, how may I help you
gentlemen?"
The larger one of the duo stepped forward and flashed her a friendly smile before showing his badge.
"Hello Ma'am. I'm Detective Sigerson and this is my partner, Detective Olson. We are looking for someone
by the name of Lydia Deetz."
Why were detectives here asking for her? Her stomach twisted into knots and a nervous feeling
overcame her. Something was not right. Lydia pushed down her nerves and forced a smile as her hold
tightened on the screen door handle. "I'm Lydia Deetz, well it was Deetz. I just recently got married, so
it's Geist now."
The one called Olson saddled up next to his partner and grinned widely. "Congratulations, Mrs. Geist."
She aimed her force smile at him then questioned both detectives. "Thank you. Now what was it that you
wanted to speak to me about?"
Detective Sigerson cleared his throat and tipped his head in the direction of the doorway. "Do you mind if
we come in and ask you a few questions?"
"Sure…" Lydia shrugged her shoulder and nodded, while she opened the screen door to allow them
access. "Please come in."
The investigators sidled by and waited as she shut the door then steered them to the kitchen where she
motioned to the empty chairs. "Please have a seat." Both detectives pulled a chair and sat down, while
Lydia continued to stand. "Would either of you like something to drink? I have some coffee or lemonade?"
Detective Sigerson shook his head no, while his partner vocalized his answer aloud and presented another
friendly smile. "Yes ma'am. A lemonade sounds good."
Lydia placed the baby monitor on the table before moving away to get the officer and herself some
lemonade. Shortly she returned with two glasses of the tarty beverage and carefully set the drink in
front of the detective. With her own drink in hand, Lydia pulled a seat across from them and sat down to
wait for either one of them to speak.
Officer Olson drank deeply from his cup and subsequently turned his full attention to her as he finally
announced why they were there. "Now… do you know a person by the name of Lucas Johnson?"
Shit, this was about Luke? Why were they here about him? The knot in her stomach tightened and she
felt a wave of nausea hit her. Christ, she couldn't get sick. Lydia tried to shake the feeling and prayed
that she wouldn't blow chucks across the table. Yes, that would go over well.
The nauseated women sucked in some shallow breaths and reached out to take a small sip of her
lemonade. The sensation began to dim slightly, and she was able to think a little more clearly. 'Buck up
Lydia! You married the most terrifying poltergeist in the Netherworld. You can't be a puss now. Damnit,
you can do this!' Lydia berated herself silently and attempted to come up with some solutions. Okay, all
she needed to do was plow through these questions and try to calm her damn nerves, so she didn't come
off as hiding something. Not that she was. She didn't do anything to Luke and truly had no idea where he
was or what happened to him but didn't think these two detectives would give a lick about that. Another
fake smile appeared on her face as she forced some brightness into her tone. "Yes, I do. We dated at one
point and he is the biological father of my daughter."
Lydia watched one of the investigators' scribble something on a small notebook then turn his gaze in her
direction to ask another question. "Have you seen him recently?"
Of course, she hasn't seen him recently. Not since the night he tried to hurt them, and she had to get
Betelgeuse involved. Lydia wasn't going to tell these officers that, though. Some things would never slip
passed her lips. She lifted the drink again and sipped some more before shaking her head. "No and to be
honest with the both of you. I haven't seen him since the day that he beat the crap out of me for wanting
to stay pregnant." Okay so it wasn't a total lie. It was just the wrong day. Her husband had told her it was
better to stay as close to the truth that you could, so that it was more believable. Also, it lowered the
risk of inconsistencies.
Detective Olson quietly sat watching her, most likely looking for irregularities between her speech and
body language. Well, he could stare all he wanted, but she refused to give them any reason to suspect her
or her husband. On the outside she would play it cool, while her nerves ran rampant inside.
The officer rubbed around the edge of the glass then finally spoke. "That would be the reason you filed
for a protection order?"
Lydia tried not to roll her dark eyes at the senseless question and bit her tongue to stop the sarcastic
retort that wanted to spill forth. No, she did it for shits and giggles. "Yes."
Olson didn't miss a beat and continued with his line of questioning. "And Mr. Johnson hasn't tried to
contact you since then? Not even to see his child?"
She snorted loudly while her tone cooled considerably. "Why would he? He never wanted a child and had
made that clear that day. I haven't seen or spoken to him, but I did receive termination of rights papers
in the mail about four months ago." Chew on that tidbit boys.
The detective's faces lit up in surprise and shot a wayward glance at one another. It was Detective
Sigerson who spoke first, while his partner jotted something down in his notes. "Would we be able to see
them?"
Um…No, they couldn't see them. Lydia didn't have them and had no clue what Betelgeuse had done with
the papers. Shit. She would have to bullshit some. Oh, her husband would be so proud. Aiming an apologetic
expression at the men, she sighed softly and tried to convey the same emotion in her tone. "Actually, I
can't get to them right now. Sorry. They are lock in the file cabinet in my husband's office and
unfortunately, he has the key." That was believable, right? It would be understandable that her husband
would have the key to something that important. She prayed that the persistent investigators would buy
it.
Investigator Olson glanced at his watch before giving her a response. "Well Mrs. Geist, we would like to
see them. When will your husband be home?"
Lydia glanced at the clock on the wall behind the officers and noted that Betelgeuse wouldn't be home
for a few hours. Damn. She didn't want these men to have to come back, so if she could stall them long
enough for her to somehow contact Betelgeuse that would be great. "He should be here at any time now.
Would you like to wait? He'll be able to show you the paper work then."
Sigerson looked at Olson who shook his head yes then turned back to her. "We will wait for your husband
to come home."
'Great.' Lydia thought to herself as she sent both officers another phony smile.
Detective Olson cleared his throat and asked for some clarification on the information that she had just
given them. "So, let me get this straight, the only contact you have had with Mr. Johnson was with the
termination papers?"
'No, but you don't need to know that.' She silently thought, while moving in to take a drink before
answering the man. "Yes. It was the only contact I have had with him."
"Herrrhem," Investigator Sigerson made a noise in his throat as he finished writing and eyed her
inquisitively. "Has your husband ever met Mr. Johnson?"
Lydia's lips pursed with a quick shake of her dark mane and a shrug of her shoulders. "Not that I know of."
"So…you began dating your husband after your break up with Mr. Johnson?" Sigerson asked hesitantly as
if he were weighting his words carefully and hedging around something.
Wait a second! Were they trying to see if she had been seeing Betelgeuse while dating Luke? Really? She
wasn't that type of woman and didn't need the added drama that it could cause. Seriously people! She had
enough trouble with the asshole abusing her to even think about cheating. 'Ugh!.' Lydia mentally cried and
stopped the sneer that she wanted to direct at the officer.
Shaking off the irritating question, the greatly annoyed woman tried to focus on the task at hand. She
needed to come up with something to tell the officers, because spilling the origins of her relationship
with Betelgeuse was out of the question. Yeah, that would go well. 'Um, you see officers. I met my husband
while I was an overly dramatic and morose teenager. He wanted to marry me then, but that didn't work
out. Though I had to get him involved when my abusive ex tried to kill my child and me. Oh, did I mention
that he's dead and has supernatural powers.' Yep they'd think she was straight up crazy and land her ass
in jail.
Lydia surmised that there was only one thing she could do. She'd have to bullshit her way through this
as well. Christ, when would this be over with? Her fingers rubbed up and down the glass and smeared the
condensation as she spoke. "Yes, we started dating after my breakup with Luke, though we knew each
other beforehand. Benjamin and I used to date when we were younger, but as you know young love doesn't
always last. We ended up going to different colleges and sadly drifted apart. I ran into him when he was
on a job and that's pretty much it." Damn. The young mother didn't realize that she could lie so easily.
Hell, she was even beginning to believe the crap coming out of her mouth.
The two men seemed to buy her story and continued with their intrusive questioning. "Do you know if Mr.
Johnson was aware of your new relationship?"
The fact that there hadn't been a relationship prior, she'd have to say a big fat no. So, this time there'd be
no reason to lie. "Like I said, I haven't seen him, so I don't know if he knew or not."
One of the officers opened their mouth to respond to her retort but was interrupted by the sudden cry
from the baby monitor. "Daaaaaadaaaaa…..Daaaaadaaaa…."
Lydia silently thank her cranky child then turned to the investigators with an apologetic expression. "Oh
dear, I guess nap time is over. If you both will excuse me for a moment." Her hand went up to skim her
beetle necklace and realized that this was the opportunity she had needed to summon her husband. 'Thank
you, Lulu baby!' she thought to herself as she stood up from her seat.
Officer Sigerson tipped his head and snapped his notepad closed. "Please Mrs. Geist, go ahead and get your
little girl. We can wait, ma'am."
"Thank you. I will be right back gentlemen." Lydia reached over to shut off the monitor, so it wouldn't
bother the men at the table and to avoid the possibilities that they would hear her summoning
Betelgeuse. That would be another hard one to explain.
The anxious woman swiftly left the kitchen and made her down the hallway to her daughter's room. Once
inside, Lydia stopped to flick off the monitor just in case those detectives had switched the one in the
kitchen back on. Call her paranoid or simply she was just being cautious. Maybe her husband was merely
rubbing off on her.
Hurrying to the crib, Lydia spied her daughter rubbing her sleep crusted eyes then go on all fours and
crawl to the barrier. She latched onto the bars with her chubby hands and pulled her little body up.
Peering over the rim, the small child's lip wobbled, and watery eyes stared up at her mother while she
continued to call for her father. "Daaaadaaaa."
Sighing deeply and gently reaching out, Lydia swooped up her weepy child and drew Lucy to her side. She
pressed a kiss to the top of her crown and softly cooed into her blonde curls. "Sssh…I know baby. I want
daddy too."
Closing her brown eyes, she tried to not let the nerves that she had pushed down bubble to the surface.
Lydia needed to call her husband and he would know what to do. He would know how to fix this, just like
that night. Hell, he most likely had a plan for this very situation.
Her free hand dragged up her stomach and grasped the necklace nestled between her breasts. She licked
her parched lips and whispered her husband's name. "Betelgeuse…Betelgeuse…Betelgeuse…"
Lydia felt the atmosphere in the room change and the swirl of Betelgeuse's power surround them like a
warm blanket. His smoky timber hit her ears and it seemed like her anxiety vanished as quickly as it had
come. "Babes?" Her eyes flew open and her vision blurred at the sight of him. She couldn't help the large
rush of relief that washed over when her dark pools connected with his bright ones. Her lip trembled and
as if on their own accord, her feet began to move in his direction. Within seconds she was in his hold with
her face burrowed against his broad chest.
Betelgeuse's light brows furrowed as one of his arms wrapped around his wife and child, while the other
went up to lightly stroke the back of her head. His gruff tone was laced with confusion and his words
were aimed at trying to sooth and figure out what was going on. "Hey, I'm here, Sweets. Shit, what has
you all freaked out?"
Her voice was muffed as she spoke into his upper body, causing the poltergeist to pull slightly away. His
hand left the back of her head and moved to her chin to carefully expose her face, so he could properly
hear what she had to say. Betelgeuse brushed his fingertips along her jaw line then cupped her cheek.
"Baby you need to calm down. I can't understand ya with that mug of yours buried in my chest. Now tell
me what's goin' on."
Lydia bit her lip to stop the trembling and cleared her throat of the tightness that had developed before
answering her husband. "There are two detectives here and they are looking for Luke. I guess someone
reported him missing. Betelgeuse, they were asking a lot of questions. I…I'm not sure what to do?"
The poltergeist's gaze softened as he leaned in to skim her warm lips with his own. Her lids closed at the
contact, and a shaky breath left her small form. He stroked her cheek and gently whispered against her
skin. "You don't have to do nothin', okay? I got this shit."
Betelgeuse pulled her closer and swiped her bottom lip with his thumb. "Baby, hey, Look at me." Lydia's
warm eyes opened and met the cool ones of her husband. The dead man sent her a tender smile and ran
his thumb over her soft appendage once again. "Everything will be fine. You just get Bug calm and I'll
handle the rest. Daddy's comin' home early." His gentle smile turned into a wicked grin as he flashed her a
wink and leaned in to give her a quick kiss. Betelgeuse then pulled back and fixed her with another wink,
before he ruffled Lucy's little noggin and disappeared.
As quickly as her husband left, their young child began to fuss her complaints. Lydia bounced her lightly
on her hip, while trying to soothe her. "Ssh, Lulu. Daddy will be right back. Mama promises." Still Lucy's
fretting lingered, so Lydia tried something that sometimes worked in this circumstance. "Come on Lulu
love. Let's go get some yum yums."
The fussing began to dim though Lucy still called out for her daddy. The little girl sniffled and blinked at
her mother with wet eyes. "Daadaa."
Lydia went to respond when Lucy's little belly gurgled loudly. The flustered mother busted into laughter
then smiled widely at her baby girl. She gently poked Lucy's tummy, then tickled it slightly. "Looks like
someone's belly is hungry." Lucy giggled in return and bopped her tiny head, while she patted her
stomach. "UmUm."
Another round of laughter overcame the young mother and she quickly nodded at her tiny child. "Yeah
yum yums."
Moving towards the doorway, Lydia heard the entrance of the garage shut loudly and shortly after, the
sound of her husband's voice echo throughout the house. "Babes?" He must have stepped into the kitchen,
because she noticed that his tone dropped sharply. "Who are you and why ya in my kitchen?"
Lydia slowly made her way down the hallway and listen to the conversation beginning in the other
room.
The poltergeist eyed the two men as he moved deeper into the kitchen and placed the bag in his hands on
the counter. He swiveled around and leaned against the edge to face them.
The two investigators approached him with friendly smiles and the smaller one spoke first. "Hello sir, you
must be Mr. Geist?"
Betelgeuse raised a brow and locked his arms over his chest. He tilted his head in conformation and sent
the strange men a questioning gaze. "Yeah that's me and it's just Benjamin. What can I do for you fellas?"
The larger detective stepped forward and made the introductions. "Well Benjamin, I'm Detective Sigerson
and this is my partner, Detective Olson. We are investigating the disappearance of Lucas Johnson. Do you
know this man?"
The poltergeist shook his shaggy dome and didn't bother to hide the disgust in his tone. "Naw, I never had
the pleasure of meetin' him."
The one called Olson raised his bushy brows at the unveiled repulsion and had the man shooting off the
next question. "So, you do know who he is then?"
Of course, he knew who the piece of shit was. The little prick was an abusive fuck who got what was
coming to him. Betelgeuse snorted noisily then sneered in the direction of the investigators. "Yeah I
know who he is. I also know what he did to my wife and tried to do to my kid."
Detective Sigerson's own brow rose at the change in tone of the man in front of them and seemed to use
that to the investigator's advantage. "Were you mad about that?"
Hell yeah. More than these fuckers could ever know. The poltergeist had never been so furious in his
entire life, dead or alive. He saw red that night and it wasn't the blood that splattered across the walls
and floor of his humble abode. Just thinking about it now was making the dampened embers of fury begin
to smolder. Betelgeuse shoved down the feeling and tried to ease the edge out of his voice. "Yes sir.
Wouldn't you be?" His hands dropped to his side and one moved to roughly drag his finger through his
messy hair. "That woman out there was the one that got away and to know that some asshole put his
hands on her; Sure, it fuckin' pissed me off, but there wasn't anythin' I could do about it. It had already
been done and he ain't worth my time anyway. I got more important things to worry about then some boy
tryin' to play at bein' a man. All I care about is takin' care of my wife and our kids."
The detectives glanced at one another before Officer Olson voiced their silent question. "Kids? We were
told that there is only one child."
A grin formed on the dead man's face and his chest puffed with pride as he thought of his bug and unborn
child. "For now, there is only Lulu, but we are excepting a little one in April."
Both investigators smiled at the news and sent their regards. "Congratulations. You and your wife must
be very happy."
Shit, they were more than happy about the bundle of joy and couldn't wait for the babe to be born.
"Indeed, we are."
Detective Sigerson flipped his notepad open and continued with their probing. "Now Benjamin, are you
sure that Mr. Johnson has never come by?"
Well fuck him six ways to Friday! These men were trying to trip him up and see if he was going to change
his story. It wasn't going to happen. Damn. They must not have many leads if they were fishing this hard.
"Nope, not since I've been around. That man has never bothered to come to our home." He wasn't
technically lying. At the time it hadn't been his or their home. Not that these fools needed to know that.
The investigator tried to play the question off with a friendly smile. "We only ask, because his current
girlfriend is the one who reported him missing. She stated that he was coming to discuss some things
with your wife."
Well hell. Who would have thought that the little fucker had some senseless bitch waiting in the wings
while he went to murder his kid and ex. Betelgeuse would give his left nut that little snit knew exactly
what her lover boy was going to do that night. Yeah, she must be one classy woman and dumber than a box
of rocks to boot. He raised his brows as he shrugged his shoulders and lips pinched together. "Well, he
never showed his face here. Maybe he saw me and thought twice about approaching Lyds. All I know is
that my wife received termination papers from him several months ago and that has been the only
contact."
Officer Olson rubbed his chin then he shook his head at the information given. "Yes, your wife mentioned
that earlier. She said that you had the keys to the file cabinet and couldn't access them. Would it be
possible for us to see them?"
If it would get these men out of their house and hair. Hell, he'd give them a copy of their own and the
envelope that conveniently had the little piss ant's fingerprints on it. "Sure. I can give ya it if you'd like?"
A pleased grin slid on the larger officer's face and snapped his notepad closed. "That would be greatly
appreciated."
Slowly moving into the room, Lydia quietly made her way to the talking men. She cleared her throat as
she came closer to the little group and sent them all a smile before stopping beside her husband. Her
smile brightened when her gaze caught his and their daughter squealed and began to squirm in her
mother's arms.
The poltergeist returned a toothy smile of his own as he snatched the wriggling child and planted a kiss
on his wife's cheek. "Hey Babe." He thumbed in the direction of the counter where he placed the paper bag.
"I got ya that Lemon tart thingy you said you liked so much."
Astonishment was written all over her face and appeared to color her tone. "You did?" Her eyes moved to
the bag and noticed that it was indeed from that fancy market across town. When did he have time to
get that? How the hell did know that she had just been craving it? A giggle bubbled forth as this man
surprised her once again. He really was something else. Lydia bounced back and forth on her heels then
shot forward to pepper her husband with kisses and gushed happily. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you
honey. You are the best husband ever!"
Betelgeuse snorted loudly while rolling his green eyes at her dramatic actions. "Woman it's just a pastry.
It's not like I did something heroic."
Lydia pulled back and grinned like a maniac as she fluttered her lashes at him. "To me it is. You are the
hero of cravings!" The poltergeist didn't say anything in return just barked out a raspy laugh and shook
his head in amusement.
One of the gentlemen behind the couple cleared their throat, while the other began to talk. "Sorry to
interrupt you folks."
Oh, that's right, they had company. The newlyweds had completely forgotten about the officers and she
had acted like an utter fool in front of them. Oh god, how embarrassing. She forced down the blush that
wanted to spring to the surface and turned to the waiting men. She tried to appear nonchalant as she
waved at the officers. "That's no problem. Sorry we tend to get distracted sometimes. You know how it is
with newlyweds. Our heads are in the clouds." Lydia covered her mouth with her fingers and giggled into
them.
Olson scratched the back of his head and gave her a kind smile. "That's okay ma'am. I remember being the
same way when me and the missus got hitched."
Sigerson snorted loudly and shoulder bumped his partner. "So, do I. You drove me crazy that whole year."
Detective Olson's face flushed with color and he rubbed the back of his neck as he muttered under his
breath. "I wasn't that bad."
His partner snorted again and moved his gaze to Betelgeuse. He tried to steer the conversation back to
where it had been originally. "Do you think we can get those papers, Mr. Geist?"
Shit. The poltergeist had forgotten about the papers. Damn woman scrambled his brain whenever she was
in his presence. Betelgeuse tipped his blond cranium in the direction of the table and answered the
officer. "Sure. Let me just put Bug in her chair and I will go get them for ya."
The officers nodded as the dead man strolled to Lulu's highchair and locked the small child into place
before turning to his wife. "Babes, you wanna get her some of those melt thingies you bought the other
day?"
Lydia shook the box that she had snagged from the counter and flashed him a wink. "Already ahead of
you." She made her way to their child and dumped out a few pieces on her tray. Lucy squealed happily
then snatched up the fluffy melts and stuffed them into her mouth. A laugh sprouted from the young
mother as she stared at her bubbly child munching away on the pieces.
Lydia dragged her dark eyes from Lucy and trailed them to the quiet detectives who had made their
way back to their seats. She smiled at them and wondered if Detective Sigerson would now like
something to drink. "Detective Sigerson, are sure you don't want anything to drink? Or maybe something
to eat? That Lemon tart is mighty delicious."
Sigerson shook his head and stuffed his notepad in his coat pocket before glancing at his watch. "No thank
you ma'am. We have another appointment that we need to get to soon."
She peered over at Officer Olson and offered him some as well. "Detective Olson, would you like some
Lemon tart?"
The man declined just like his partner. "It sure does sound good, but I'll have to say no thank you as well."
Seriously neither wanted any. Well she sure did. It was like a thorn poking her side. She couldn't ignore
the craving any longer. "Would you both mind if I had some? My craving won't go away until I do."
Both let her know that they did not care if she had some or not. Sigerson shook his head and chuckled to
himself. "We don't mind at all. I remember when my wife was pregnant with our last child and her
cravings drove her up the wall at times."
The pregnant woman snorted softly and could relate to Sigerson's wife. Up the wall indeed. "I can relate."
Lydia said as she hurried to the bag and carefully took out the pastry. She grabbed a knife and plate from
the drying rack and went about cutting herself a piece.
Gently moving back to the table with the tart in hand, Lydia set the plate on the surface and sat down.
She sent the officer's another smile before digging into the tart. She groaned when the lemony goodness
hit her tongue then mumbled to herself. "Oh yeah…That hit the spot."
Her husband's smoky chuckle sprang out of nowhere and drew the attention of the occupants at the table.
Betelgeuse casted an amused smile towards his wife, then turned to the detective and handed them the
paperwork. "Here you go Officers. These are the papers and the envelope that they came in. I'm not sure if
you'd want it, but I thought I'd give it to ya either way."
Detective Sigerson took the bundle and thanked him. "We sure do appreciate this. Thank you, Mr. Geist."
Betelgeuse nodded while trying to convey a genuine concern for the missing asshole. "It is no problem sir.
Anything to help."
Both Officers responded back in kind then stood up and bid their goodbyes. "Well folks, we need to be
running along. Thank you both for your time and if you hear or receive any information about or from
Mr. Johnson. Please contact us."
The dead man stepped towards the entry and reassured the detectives that if they heard anything that
they would. "Should we come across any information we will. I will walk you both out and let the little
lady finish her tart." Betelgeuse winked at his wife and barked out another laugh as he waited for the
officers to follow.
The Investigators seemed to agree and turned to Lydia with a wave. "Goodbye Ma'am. It was nice to meet
you."
She returned the gesture with a friendly grin. "Goodbye gentlemen. It was nice to meet you as well."
'Now hurry up and leave.' Lydia thought to herself as she watched them shift their attention back to her
husband and follow him out of the room.
When the men disappeared, she let out a relieved breath and rested her elbow on the table before laying
her cheek against the palm of her hand. She could not believe that had just happened. Christ, she hadn't
thought that anyone would report Luke missing. Hell, it had never crossed her mind. Even gone from her
life, he was still causing havoc. Another sigh escaped, and her dark eyes were drawn to the doorway as
she heard the clunk of her husband's heavy boots.
Cool and collected as always, Betelgeuse strolled in relaxed and clearly unaffected by the appearance of
the police.
How could he be so calm? Does this not bother him at all? Wasn't he worried that they were clearly
persons of interest? Lydia bit her lip and nervously asked her husband the question balancing on her
tongue. "Do you think they suspect us for his disappearance?"
Betelgeuse shrugged as he approached the table. "Even if they do, Babe. They have no proof. All they have
is hearsay and not enough for the DA to charge anyone. They'd have to find some kind of evidence and
there is nothin' in the house. They wouldn't find a trace of that dipshit here. I made sure of it." He went
to her and gently massaged her tense shoulders. "Come on Lyds, I don't want ya to stress about it, okay?
You and I know it's not good for the baby."
"I Know…." The feel of his fingers moving against her tense muscles felt good, but she couldn't stop the
worry that gnawed at her insides. "It's just…Aren't you a bit worried? What if they do find something
and come back?"
The poltergeist sighed loudly and continued to knead away her unease and tension. His tone was far more
serious than it usually was as he spoke. "I'm serious, Baby. You don't need to worry about it." Betelgeuse
bent down and kissed her temple before carrying on. "Daddy's got this." He pulled away and winked at her,
then released her shoulders to juice another piece of tart in front of her. "Now my gorgeous wife, eat
your damn tart."
Daddy, huh? Is that what he's calling himself now? The thought had Lydia forgetting about her anxiety
and caused a giggle to bubble passed her lips. She twisted her face up to flash a flirty smirk and bat her
lashes rather seductively at him. "Yes daddy." Lydia watched as her husband noisily groaned and adjust
his stance as if he were suddenly uncomfortable. She giggled some more, but sharply inhaled when he
swooped down to growl hotly in her ear.
His cool breath tickled the shell and caused a shiver to run down her spine. "Babes, you're lucky our kid is
up, or you'd be flat on that fuckin' table. Bet your sweet ass that you'd be saying more than yes daddy."
Betelgeuse trailed down to her neck and nibbled at the supple skin causing a low moan to rip from her.
Another moan spilled as the familiar flames began to spring to life and slowly licked at her delicate
flesh. She felt her husband chuckle against her collarbone then leisurely withdrew with a cocky grin on
his features.
Oh, that asshat! He did that on purpose. Eye for an eye kind of bullshit. She couldn't help that he had a
daddy fetish and it got him all hot and bothered. Well, now she was in the same damn boat he. Whipping
around, Lydia glared at him with a flared bottom lip. "That was not funny."
Betelgeuse boisterously laughed, and his green eyes twinkled with amusement. "Maybe not for you,
sweets." His blonde brows wiggled, and his animated laughter continued as he made his way over to their
child while simultaneously ignoring her heated scowl.
Lydia glowered at him even more then returned to her plate and stabbed the lemon tart several times
before softly grumbling to herself. "Yeah, Yeah. Guck it up buddy."
Her devious mind carefully began to formulate all the wicked things that she could possibly do to her
ghostly partner. The corner of her lips curled up and spread into a sinful smirk as a plan began to develop.
Her dear hubby wanted to play the tease game, did he? Well, she'd show him how it's done. He thought he
was good, but she…she was better.
Lydia took a large bite of her pastry and glanced at her husband with an amused resolved, before going
back to her tart with a soft giggle. Oh yeah, tonight was going to be soooo much fun.

***

AN: Holy shit! I did not plan to take this long to update, sadly things happened to delay me. It's been a
shitty couple of weeks. Where to begin? Oh, my cat died from FIP (feline infectious peritonitis) then my
dog got a UTI (She's all better now, which is good). I could not believe the bad luck, but wait. Not long
after that I somehow jacked my back up to the point where I could not move or stand up without being in
a lot of pain. It sucked majorly, and I hated every moment of it. :( Since I was in a great deal of pain, I
wasn't in the mood to do much of anything other than Icing the shit out of my back and hope that I
would eventually get better. I have vastly improved, but I'm still not back to my old self. I'm also hoping
shit starts to turn around from here on out. Now enough of my whining and thanks for putting up it.
Okay as for the newest chapter, I've spent the weekend and this week working on it and finally finished
it. I like this chapter and am thoroughly happy with the way it came out. I think I liked Lydia's
interaction with the detectives the best, though Lydia and Betelgeuse hearing the baby's heartbeat was
right up there.
What do you all think? Did you like it? Let me know by dropping a review.

Chapter 13
Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with the Beetlejuice franchise, nor do I make any money from
this. The only thing I own is Lucy and Irene and I'm okay with that. The rest I just borrow for my own
twisted amusement.
A quick AN: When a character in a pink glittery ball gown and wings comes into play think Carol Kane as
the Ghost of Christmas Present from the movie Scrooged. If you have no clue what that movie is, well
that means I'm old as hell and you'll just have to google that shit.
– (Ghost of Christmas Present): Sometimes the truth is painful, Frank. [Slaps his face] But it's made your
cheeks rosy and your eyes bright! (Frank Cross): If you TOUCH ME AGAIN, I'll rip your goddamn wings off!
Okay? – Scrooged –
---------------------------------
Chapter 13
The month appeared to speed by for the couple as September progressed into October. Even with the shift
to her favorite month, the young mother couldn't ease the nerves that were bundled up deep within.
They seemed to claw at her insides and caused the endless worry to spread. Lydia knew it was from the
visit with the detectives' weeks ago. Their impromptu social call had thrown the pregnant woman off
balance. Her husband had tried to alleviate her apprehension, but she couldn't shake the feeling of
foreboding that began to weigh down upon her. Maybe it was her hormones messing with her frazzled
nerves? Or maybe Lydia just expected trouble simply because Luke was involved indirectly? She wasn't
sure and carefully kept her mounting worry to herself as to not burden Betelgeuse with more of her
antics.
As it was, her ghostly partner was already dealing with her sporadic mood swings. Christ, she felt like a
yo-yo; Hellishly bopping up and down at any time of the day. Though, Lydia had to admit he was taking
the emotional outbursts a lot better than she was. It was completely unexpected, but it really shouldn't
have surprised her. The poltergeist tended to do things that just seemed to be out of character from the
rough and chilling image he enjoyed portraying to the outside world. Plus, there were facets of the dead
man that he liked to show only to his little family.
A smile sprang to life as Lydia thought on all the sweet things he had done lately. First with the
beautiful necklace then running to wherever to get the various foods her pregnant ass craved. Later in
the month when it was time for her birthday, he had surprised her with a party at her folks' and a night
out at an art show. It had been their first real date as a couple. She knew that working with her family
and the art show wasn't his thing, but he had made sure that everything about that night had been
perfect. It had been that and so much more. A birthday that she would never forget.
Lydia smoothed her hands over the curve of her lower abdomen and turned in the mirror to get a view
of her profile. A rush of happiness overcame her as she caressed the bump lovingly and smiled even
larger than before. It truly was a beautiful sight. Her body had already begun to change with her breasts
becoming fuller and her lower abdomen swelling to accommodate the growing babe. The said bump was
out in full view because of the tight black high waisted skirt and a short sleeved red silk blouse that she
decided to wear for the evening festivities. Lydia twisted to her other side and ran her hand over her
belly again, before facing the mirror head on. She adjusted the beetle necklace resting between her
breasts then reached up to twirl some loose hair around her fingers that didn't get placed in the red hair
net.
A whistle sounded in the room and caused the distracted woman to jump with her hand over her
thudding heart. She whipped around and spied her husband leaning against the door frame with their
daughter on his hip. His green eyes trailed down her body, before returning to her face with a toothy
grin. He catcalled again while his smoky tone washed over her. "You've always looked good in red, but
mixed with the black, Sweets. It makes you damn right edible!" He licked his lips wolfishly and waggled his
brows at his delectable wife. "Mmmm…You know how I like to eat…"
Oh yes, she knew very well. Her cheeks flushed with color while she bit her bottom lip and the room
seemed to heat up a bit. Lydia squirmed in her spot and trailed her own gaze down the cocky poltergeist's
well-built form. Her mouth dropped slightly at the sight, and it suddenly felt like it was filled with a
bunch of sand. They had decided to keep their costumes a secret until this very night, so seeing her
husband in something that wasn't his usual attire was a little weird and surprising at the same time.
'Well shit…' The stunned woman thought as she continued to eye the sexy dead man. Instead of her
husband's chunky black and white suit, he was now dressed in a well fitted black one with thin white
vertical pinstripes and a white button up accompanied with a red satin tie. On top of his blonde head was
a black fedora cocked to the side. The specter looked unbelievably hot in his Halloween getup and Lydia
had to struggle to find her words through her parched mouth. "Wow…"
Her lack of response only flared the already enlarged ego of his and had him grinning even wider with a
hand outstretched widely to emphasize his form. "Like what ya see, Babe?"
That smug smirk was what snapped her out of the stupor and a flirty one of her own slid on her features
as she batted her lashes at him. "Actually, I do."
"Then please keep lookin' Sweets." His head tilted back, and an animated laugh sprung from him before
returning his gaze to her with a wink.
Their tiny child squealed sharply and drew her parent's attention while she voiced her opinion in baby
babble. The only thing that the couple could understand was the words daadaa and mummum.
Lydia bent to Lucy's level cupping her hands together and gushed happily. "Oh Lulu, look at you!" She
scanned the little girl from head to toe and cooed some more. "Daddy dressed you real pretty, didn't he?
You look so beautiful in that red dress and feathered headband." The faux pearl necklace hung from her
tiny neck and at the end was a teething ring that was held tightly in her chubby hand. Lucy giggled at
her mother's attention as she waved the ring in the air and continued to babble.
Betelgeuse cleared his throat and aimed a question in her direction. "You ready to go yet?"
Lydia straightened and shook her dark head before making her way to the open closet. Reaching down,
she picked up her cute red flats and slid them on, while talking. "Yes, just let me put these on and then I
have to grab my stole." The pregnant woman glanced at her flats and sighed deeply. She really wished
that she could wear her red stilettoes. They would have went smashing with her outfit. Another sigh
left her while she turned back to her husband and stuck out her foot to model her flats. Lydia bit her lip
then released it to ask Betelgeuse for his opinion. "Do the shoes look okay? I would wear my heels, but I
don't think I would make it that far walking around the neighborhood."
His green gaze moved to her feet and shrugged lightly. "They look just fine Babe, though I wouldn't have
minded seeing ya in a pair. Maybe you can wear them for me tonight?" The poltergeist returned to her
face and wiggled his brows as he shifted their child to his other hip.
Lydia ran the tips of her fingers over his clothed chest and winked saucily while making her way passed
him. "Hun, I believe that can be arranged…"
He groaned loudly and watched her hips sway back and forth as he followed her down the hallway to the
coat closet. "Fuck, you're killin' me here Sweetheart."
Her lips twitched in amusement at his comment but stayed silent. She opened the door to grab the black
faux fur stole from the hanger and wrapped it around her shoulders before going back in to retrieve the
other coats. Lydia handed her husband his dark trench coat along with their daughter's white faux fur
jacket and broke her silence with a large smile. "You're already dead my dear husband."
The dead man chuckled and slipped the coat on the child then passed her to her mother, so he could
throw on his own. Adjusting his dark trench coat, Betelgeuse turned back to his wife to relieve her of
their daughter and brazenly spoke with a jiggle of his light brows. "Well shit sweets, you wanna little
death?"
Lydia giggled while she seized the pumpkin bucket that he had juiced a few hours before and continued to
flirt with him. "Baby, what I experience isn't little by any means."
His eyes trailed down her body and licked his lips once again. "With the way you soak the sheets, No, I
guess it's not."
Her face flushed with color and the same heat from before came flooding back. She forced herself not to
fan her flushed cheeks and cleared her throat then tried to change the subject. "You do remember that
this is a neighborhood block party for the cul-de-sac, so you need to keep the language pg or at least pg 13.
Unlike you, some parents try to curb their mouths."
His face contorted into outrage and let his pregnant wife know his horror. "What?! I have to censor
myself? You never said shit about that! I'm an adult I can swear and it's one of my little pleasures!"
Lydia sighed and made her way to the front door. "I didn't mention it, because I knew you would say no."
She pulled it open and twisted back to face her husband with a pleading look. "Please behave. This is Lulu's
first Halloween."
Betelgeuse scoffed loudly as he by passed her and held the screen while she shut the entry behind them.
"Women, I know that it is and I ain't gonna ruin it for her." His gaze shifted from his wife to their
babbling child and coo at her. "Right Bug. Daddy wouldn't do that to you. No, he wouldn't." He tickled her
belly and earned a bunch of giggles then barked out a laugh of his own.
Lydia's lips twitched at the happy sounds of her husband and child and the slight tension began to lessen
some. Her lips curled even more as she turned to see Betelgeuse making goofy faces at Lucy, who in
return was trying to copy her father. Clearing her throat drew her husband's attention, and a cheesy
grin was sent her way. She rolled her eyes and told him that she was ready go. "Okay, I'm ready. Do you
have the diaper bag?"
The poltergeist stared down at her with a raised brow and a shrug his broad shoulders. "Um…No…"
Ugh. They forgot the diaper bag. Shit. A frustrated puff of air escaped her tiny frame then a low groan
followed. She stepped away from her husband and turned towards the door. "Crap. I'll go grab it." His free
hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist as he spoke. "Naw Babe, I got this." She was about to question
him when he snapped his finger and produced the full diaper bag. His green eyes twinkled brightly and
winked cheekily at her. "We got it now."
The young mother tried to smother the smile that wanted to come through at her husband's antics. Now
wasn't the time for humor. Seriously did he just use his powers out in plain sight? What if someone had
seen him? What if those detectives were watching? Sometimes her hubby was too impulsive. She sighed
deeply and placed her hands on her hips. "Betelgeuse, you just can't use your juice when we're in front of
our house. What if the neighbors had seen? Or those damn detectives? You can't take risks like that.
Please tell me that you will not use your powers at the party?" Ugh, she sounded like the naggy wife.
Something that she promised she would never be. God forbid that she'd end up like Delia. Lydia shuttered
at the thought and watched as her husband snorted with a shake of his head and descended the steps.
Betelgeuse paused at the bottom and addressed her while she carefully followed behind him. "Babe, I've
been around a long fuckin' time and know the rules better than anyone else. Hell, I break most of them. I
know not to expose breathers to my juice. I ain't gonna put my family at risk just for some kicks." He
reached for her hand and wove his fingers with hers before bringing them up to kiss her knuckles. "Relax
Sweets. No one saw shit; Neither the neighbors or those fuckin' investigators. Not that they would be
back and spying on us on Halloween of all days. You're startin' to sound as paranoid as me, Babe. Didn't I
tell ya not to worry about them? If they return, I'll deal with it. I told ya I gotta backup plan. Shit's
gonna be fine Sweetheart."
Lydia released another sigh and tried to shake the nerves that were once again bubbling forth. "I know it
is. I'm just being a nervous nelly that's all. These damn hormones are really messing with me."
His gaze softened as he freed a deep breath of his own and pulled her close to kiss her temple. "I realize
that Sweets, but I'd never do anything to jeopardize what we have, nor would I let anyone else. Ya got
that?"
She leaned in and rested her cheek on his chest before nodding. "Yeah, I got it."
"Good." Betelgeuse bent down to kiss her crown and gave her a tiny squeeze then released his hold. He
stepped away and sent her a warm smile while holding out an arm for her to grab. "Now come on Dame.
Let's blow this joint. We have some houses to hit up." His smile widened and waited for her to follow his
lead.
Lydia laughed loudly then wove her arm through his and swept her other arm out in front of them.
"Well then Fella, lead the way and show this gal a good time."
"Any time Babe." The poltergeist winked and chuckled in amusement as they began to walk down the
sidewalk.
Slowly the couple approached the first house and climbed the steps to ring the doorbell. They took a step
back, so that whoever answered had enough room to open the screen door to greet them. Lydia brought
the bucket up so Lucy could grab onto the handle to hold it out when an older woman dressed in a cat
costume with a large bowl of candy tucked against her side answered.
Lydia smiled and greeted her with the traditional Halloween saying. "Trick or Treat, Mrs. Goldburg!"
Lucy began to babble something loudly while shaking the bucket at the older woman.
Mrs. Goldburg beamed brightly and returned the greeting. "Happy Halloween. Don't you three just look so
cute?! I love the matching costumes. Mr. Goldburg and I used to do the same thing when our kids were
little. Are you going to the block party?"
With a quick nod, Lydia confirmed that they were eventually heading that way. "Yes, we are." She
wondered if the older couple would be going as well and asked the woman. "Are you and Mr. Goldburg
going?"
Mrs. Goldburg's smile dimmed slightly as she shook her head and placed some candy in Lucy's bucket. "No.
Mr. Goldburg isn't feeling well, so we are staying home. Our kids and the grandkiddos will be stopping by
shortly and I think that they might go."
That sucked that they wouldn't be there tonight. Mr. and Mrs. Goldburg were one of the very few
neighbors that she knew quite well. Mrs. Goldburg has been known to pop over from time to time to drop
off some apples or preserves from her various apple trees. The woman was so sweet and greatly missed
the hustle and bustle that came with having a house full of children. Mr. Goldburg, well, he was wacky
and at times irritable grandfather type. When she thought of him, Walter Matthau as Max Goldman
always came to her mind. Lydia hoped that his cold wasn't too bad and that he improved in a couple of
days. "Aww, that's too bad. Please tell Mr. Goldburg that I hope he feels better."
The sound of children could be heard as the made their way up the path marking that it was time to cut
the chit chat short. Mrs. Goldburg eyed the new group then turned her focus back to the couple. "I will
my dear. You three have fun."
"We will. Bye." Lydia waved as some kids ran passed them and up to the door drawing the older woman's
attention.
They weaved through the rest of the group and made their way to the next house. Betelgeuse lightly
bumped hips with his wife and snorted. "One house down now a billion more to go."
A snicker shook her tiny frame as she rolled her eyes and bumped him back. "It's not that many houses.
Most look like they have the bowls of candy sitting on the stoop. It shouldn't take us that long."
She had been wrong and underestimated how big their cul-de-sac truly was. When driving in a car it
doesn't seem that long, but apparently walking was a different story. It took some time to make it to the
neighborhood event, since their house was in the middle of the dead end and to hit every residence they
had to zig-zag from place to place until they reached the party.
When the couple arrived at the event, they found the road blocked by a huge tent. It was a festive shade
of orange and stretched width wise from one side of the road to the other and at least three lots long.
There were also several small games going on outside with some kids bouncing from here or there and
their parents trailing quickly behind.
The trio made their way to the tent entrance and was greeted by a tall curly headed blonde woman
dressed in a glittery pink ballgown with large iridescent wings. She bounced on the balls of her feet,
making the shimmering extensions look as if they were real and moving on their own. The bubbly blonde
revealed a big toothy smile when she recognized Lydia and readied some papers in her hands. "Lydia! Like
I'm glad that you could make it. This must be like your husband."
Lydia returned the gesture to stop the cringe that wanted to come through at the sound of the woman's
outdated speech. Do people even talk like that anymore? She wasn't sure but couldn't fault the woman.
Even though the blonde did come off as a little snobby at times and had the stereotypical valley girl
speech pattern, honestly, she wasn't that bad. It just took a while to get used to her and maybe a smidgen
of patience. Nothing Lydia couldn't handle. Her husband was a testament to that. The pregnant women
stifled the giggle that wanted to spill and gave her husband's arm a light squeeze then waved with her
free hand. "Hi Clare, and yes, this is my husband, Benjamin."
Betelgeuse tipped his hat and flashed her a friendly grin. "Nice to meet you ma'am." Lydia could tell that
he wanted to say more but must have realized that his smartass comments would not have been welcome.
She could just imagine the things that were sitting on the edge of her husband's tongue. Oh, how this must
be killing him right now?
Lydia coughed a little to hide the snort, but Clare never noticed it, nor the underlining containment in
the dead man. The perky woman greeted him with an enormous amount of enthusiasm. "It's like nice to
meet you as well." She bounced some more making the wings move with greater momentum and seem like
they were trying to lift the thin female up and away from the whole event. Clare produced another
toothy grin then passed them a sheet of paper from the pile she was holding. "The party is in full swing
and like here is an itinerary of what kind of activities and booths that we have. I am so glad you guys
could come and like have fun!"
The couple both nodded at the sunny blond as they made their way into the large tent. The poltergeist
leaned down to whisper in his wife's ear. "I feel like throwing up now. Did she have to be like so goddamn
cheery and what the fuck is up with the valley talk?"
She lightly slapped his arm and tried to keep her own voice down. "B, language and she's actually a really
nice person."
A large snort left him, while he guided them to a place to sit and continued to talk in her ear. "Yeah,
Yeah. No swearing. A nice person or not, Babe. Miss San Fernando Valley doesn't seem to be your type?"
Lydia moved closer to her husband to sidestep a little kid that came barreling passed and answered his
question with one of her own. "Miss San Fernando Valley?"
The poltergeist wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and led them in the direction of the tables.
"Yeah that's where that type of speech originated from and it seemed fitting."
Her brow rose with the fact her husband had just thrown that out of thin air. "How do you know that?"
'How the hell does he know all of these things?' She thought to herself as he replied back. "Like I've said,
I've been around a long time. Plus, I took a test once when I was bored and scored a 250."
A test? What kind of test would you need a score of 250? "What kind of test did you take?"
"Some IQ thing that this guy was doin' in the Netherworld. He nearly wet himself when he saw my score
and began squawkin' about me bein' unmeasurable or some shit. When he started to lose it, I got the hell
out of there."
The test he had taken was an IQ test and he scored a 250. Wasn't that something like an unmeasurable
genius? No wonder the other dead guy had been freaking out. That's a big deal and made everything about
the poltergeist a little clearer. "You scored a 250 on an IQ test? That explains a lot and remember
language, B."
He gave her a sour expression and released an exasperated breath. "Ugh. This shit sucks!" Betelgeuse
sneered some more before going back to his missed question. "Yeah, Yeah, Yeah. Now I answered your
question. You gonna answer mine?"
Lydia rolled her eyes as he blatantly swore once again. Some habits will never cease, especially with this
man. She didn't bother to remind him this time and answered his inquiry. "I know Clare isn't someone that
I usually associate with, though I really don't associate with anyone these days. She's not that bad. I can
deal with the cheeriness from time to time. Plus, we rarely run into each other with her living near the
entrance of the Cul-de-sac anyway."
They found a vacant table in the corner and set down their belongings in one of the empty chairs.
Betelgeuse pulled a seat for his pregnant wife, before turning to her. "Babe, why don't you sit for a little
bit? I'm sure your feet are hurting ya. I'll go get us something to drink then we can see what all the
hoopla is about."
Hoopla? Lydia snorted at his choice of words but did as he asked and sat carefully in the chair. Her feet
were aching a little, so resting a tiny bit wouldn't hurt. Her husband pushed in the chair slightly then
stepped to the side while she reached out to take Lucy from him. "Here I'll take her."
He waved her away with a shake of his head and directed his attention to their daughter. "Naw, we're
good. Right Bug?" Lucy shook her head along with his own and babbled some before gumming her teething
ring. He chuckled and returned his focus to his wife. "Relax, Sweets. We will be right back."
She slipped her feet out of her flats and wiggled her toes as she requested a drink. "B, something with
lemon please."
The poltergeist rolled his eyes and slowly began to walk away. "Yeah, yeah. I know the drill woman."
Lydia watched her husband disappear through the crowd then swept her gaze over the sheer number of
people that came to this event. Everyone was dressed in various costumes with some running around
playing the various activities, while others either conversed or danced amongst one another. She
couldn't believe that all these folks lived in the cul-de-sac. Not that she knew all of her neighbors, nor
has she gone to this event since moving into her place. Having fun had been the least of her worries at
the time. Christ, she had been a step away from being the cat lady minus the damn cats.
The sound of her name drew her from her thoughts and had her head whipping in the opposite direction.
A man dressed as a prince with what appeared to be a grey smock was waving at her while he waded
through the crowd. "Lydia? Lydia Deetz?"
This guy looked vaguely familiar, and it wasn't until he was closer that she could read his smock. In black
lettering it spelled out, Invincible Catering. Instantly she knew who this was and couldn't believe in all
these years that she was running into him. "Vinny?" Her eyes widened and yelled out his name in shocking
surprise. Vince was an ex. Her first to be exact. Hell, her first everything. They met when they were both
First Years in college, but their relationship only lasted until the end of Third year. They both had
wanted different things, so they had decided to go separate ways. Lydia had thought that their last
conversation would be just that.
The astonished mother observed the costumed man making his way closer and noticed that his happy
features doubled when he realized that she clearly recognized him. He stopped a few paces in front of her
and scratched the back of his dark head. "Yeah, it's me."
Lydia slipped her feet back in her flats and slid her chair backwards, so she could quickly stand up. She
stepped away from the table and returned the smile. "It's good to see you, Vince."
His chocolate colored eyes took in her appearance and warmed considerably as his grin widened. "It's
good to see you too, Lyds. You look great! How have you been?"
The scrutiny her ex was throwing her way was beginning to make her feel slightly uncomfortable but
laughed it off as jitters from running into a past partner. "You don't look too bad yourself. I've been good.
I'm married now, and we have a daughter. So, it's no longer Deetz, but Geist." She outstretched her left
hand and wiggled her fingers to display her ring.
Vince glanced at the band in disbelief and swallowed roughly, while he dragged his fingers through his
hair. "Wow…married and a kid…"
She brought her hand back to her side and popped the p as she spoke. "Yep."
His attention made its way back to her and a weak smile appeared on his face. "Well, that is what you
wanted after all. It was one of the reasons why we went our separate ways."
Yes, it was. She had wanted to have a family one day and Vince, well, he had said that he wasn't even sure
if he even wanted any at all. It had been the day that Lydia had realized that even though they loved
each other it just wasn't enough. They were two different people beginning to travel down separate
paths. "Yeah, we both wanted different things."
Vince ran his hand through his dark locks once again and shifted from one foot to another as he sighed
heavily. "We sure did, though things change the older we get. We may not have wanted something when
we were younger, but now that we are older it looks pretty damn good." A bittersweet smile formed on
his features while he reached out to softly stroke her cheek. "You really do look stunning, Lyds."
The action made the uncomfortable feeling return and she sent him a weak smile. "Thanks, Vinny." Before
she could pull away from the uneasy act her husband's gruff tone cut through the underlining tension.
"Babes…Who's…this?" He clearly ground his teeth together and somehow contained the swear words
that would have normally come out of his mouth.
Lydia whipped her head towards the sound of his voice and quickly stepped away from her ex. Her eyes
widened, and her own voice pitched sharply as she called out to him. "Benjamin!" She spied the tick in his
jaw flying a mile a minute and realized that her husband was extremely pissed off. An angry Betelgeuse
was a dangerous Betelgeuse. She had to defuse the situation before he did something hasty. "B, this is
Vince."
The nervous mother avoided eye contact with the other man and introduced the poltergeist. "Vinny, this
is my husband Benjamin."
Lydia eyed both men and watched as her ex sized up her husband then tilted his chin at him. "Nice to meet
you, man."
Betelgeuse did the same while his jaws ticked even faster. "Uhmm, You too." Looking between Lydia and
the unknown man, the poltergeist didn't pussy foot around as he questioned them. "So, how do ya know
each other?"
Vince opened his big mouth before Lydia could respond. "Lyds and I used to date in college."
The dead man seemed even more irritated by the other man's explanation. "Really? Hmm. That's
interesting." He sent a raised brow and a sharp look in Lydia's direction but said nothing to her.
Uh oh. That couldn't possibly be good. Not that she understood why he was so upset. It wasn't like he has
ever talked about his past relationships and who she dated has no effect on their relationship anyway.
Well except for now that is. How was she supposed to know that they'd run into an ex of hers especially
here of all places? If she hadn't known about the Netherworld, she would have sworn the gods were
messing with her.
Her ex grinned cheekily at her husband then flashed it in her direction with a wink. "Yeah, we had a lot
of firsts, now didn't we Lyds?"
Oh my god. Was he asking for a death wish? Her husband was going to slaughter the man if he didn't shut
the hell up. She awkwardly smiled and rubbed the back of her tense neck. "Yeah, we sure did.. " Christ, this
was fucking uncomfortable. Lydia tried to change the subject by introducing their daughter. She pointed
to Lucy as she spoke. "Um…this is our daughter Lucy."
Vince glanced at the little girl then turned back to her mother. "Wow, she looks just like you, Lyds. The
only difference is the blonde hair and the hazel eyes."
Lydia laughed nervously and brushed Lucy's bangs off her forehead. "I know I hear that all the time."
He laughed along with her and continued on as if her husband hadn't come along and interrupted them. "I
bet. How old is she?"
Taken a little back, she was surprised at his sudden interest in Lucy. Vince had never been one to be
interested in kids. Like she said before, it was one of the reason they had broken up. Lydia hesitantly
answered his question. "Bug…She is 10 months old."
Vince scratched his head with his brows crinkled in confusion. "Bug?"
Another laugh busted from the pregnant woman and shook her head before tilting it at her husband. "It's
Benjamin's nickname for Lucy."
"Cute." His tone was laced with sarcasm and hinted that he didn't find it cute at all.
Lydia tried to hide the grimace that wanted to break through as she watched Betelgeuse twitch at the
remark. She really hoped that Vince would zip his lips, because she wasn't sure how much more her
husband would take before he snapped.
The other man's gaze traveled down her body once again and the uncomfortable feeling from before
returned causing her to move closer to her husband. "I have to say Lyds, you look good for just having a
kid 10 months ago."
Betelgeuse switched Lucy to his other arm and wove the free one around her waist. He pulled her
carefully to his side and puffed out his chest with a boastful grin as he retorted. "That she does,
especially with her carrying our second child."
Surprise flooded the living male and his mouth dropped open. His attention moved from the dead man to
the woman in his arms. "You're expecting another?"
Lydia went to rest her hand underneath her husband's limb and smiled happily. "Yes, I'm 3 months along."
"Wow…" Vince's features damped, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he struggled to swallow. "I…I knew
you wanted kids, but I didn't think you'd have them so close together."
She went to respond but her husband beat her to it once again. He pulled her even closer and winked
before turning back to the man with a smug expression. "Man, what can I say? I just can't seem to keep my
hands off MY wife, especially when she looks like this."
The other man seemed to grind his teeth together as his gaze bounced between the couple. "Benjamin
you're a lucky man."
Betelgeuse's chest expanded even more and shook his pale head in agreement. "That I am. "
A woman in a witch costume yelled as she made her way passed them causing Vince to turn away from
the couple. "Vince! I need your help with the appetizers."
Lydia's eyes closed and thanked her lucky stars that the uncomfortable situation would be over soon. If
she could run and kiss that witchy woman she would. She opened her eyes and spied the distracted man
twist back to them with a sigh.
"Looks like I got to go." He grabbed a napkin off the table and pulled a pen out of his pocket. He quickly
jotted something down on it and handed it to Lydia while flashing her another warm smile. "Here's my
number. We should get together for old times sakes. That is if your husband doesn't mind?" The man eyed
Betelgeuse with a silent challenge before trailing back to Lydia.
The poltergeist shrugged his shoulders as he tried to play it cool. "Why should I? I got nothin' to worry
about. It's just two acquaintances gettin' together to shoot the shit."
Vince laughed and pointed out that him and Lydia had been more than just that. "I believe we were more
than just acquaintances. We did date for three years after all."
Lydia tried not to wince when she heard Betelgeuse growl under his breath and noticed that the tick in
his jaw moved even faster. He opened his mouth to retort but the woman from before came out of
nowhere yelling for Vince once again. "Vince! Help!"
A hand ran through his dark mane and he sent Lydia an apologetic smile. "Sorry I really have to go, Lyds.
Make sure to call me, Okay?"
The nervous mother tried to carefully watch her words so not to enflame the already heated situation.
"Y…Yeah. It was nice to see you Vinny." Of course, she wouldn't call him. That would be inappropriate
and just as uncomfortable as this whole conversation had been. Hell, she was just trying to be polite. Damn
her parents for instilling good manners.
Her exes face brightened at her response which had not been what she had wanted. "You too Lyds.
Hopefully I will hear from you soon. Bye." He sent her another smile before hurrying to the witch
waiting for him.
She waved weakly at his withdrawing form and raised her free hand to rub her face. Shit. She was
exhausted, and they hadn't even done anything yet.
Next to her, Betelgeuse blew out a ragged breath and quickly removed his arm from her waist. He said
nothing as he stepped away and marched to the table to sit down.
The tired woman pinched the bridge of her nose and puffed out cheeks in frustration then slowly
followed suit. She spied the forgotten drink on the table and reached out to draw it to her. This was not
how she expected the night to progress. It's Halloween and right now they should be having fun not
sitting here angry and pretending that everything was fine when it was the opposite of the truth.
Neither said anything for some time before Lucy began to fuss quite loudly.
Lydia observed her husband lightly bouncing their daughter to try and soothe her some, but nothing
seemed to work. Lucy was mostly likely tired. It was way past her bedtime, so it was a miracle that she
lasted this long. The small child's fussing continued, and Lydia realized that her husband's attempts to
soothe her would be for nothing. It was time for them to go home and put their cranky child to bed.
There was any point of staying anyway. Neither one of them was having fun. Finally, she got up the
courage to be the first one to speak. She cleared her throat and rubbed around the rim of the glass. "B,
why don't we just head home? I'm feeling kind of tired, and it's past Lucy's bedtime anyway."
He shrugged his shoulders and stood up from the table. He didn't even look at her as his cool tone cut
over the noisy crowd. "Sure."
She tipped back her drink and didn't bother to say anything else as she set it roughly down on the table
then stood up to grab their stuff.
They left the tent in silence and managed to make it home rather quickly. Lucy had fallen asleep on the
walk back, so Betelgeuse had juiced her into pajamas and tucked her into bed. The couple both kissed her
goodnight before making their way to their own room.
The frustrated woman kicked off her flats and broke the stillness permeating the space. "Why are you so
mad?" She couldn't stand the damn silence any longer and needed to understand why he was so pissed at
her. She didn't do anything wrong, so why was he this angry?
He kicked off his own shoes while he refused to look in her direction and tightly answered her. "Who said
I was mad, Sweets?" The tick moved a mile per minute as he slowly began to remove his button down.
Lydia scoffed forcefully and sat at her vanity to take down her hair and remove her make up. She tossed
the items she had been holding onto the vanity then watched her husband through the mirror as she
began to remove a few pins. "I've been around you enough to know when you're pissed off."
He finally looked up and sneered at her. "What just because we've been around each a lot, you think you
know me?"
Her teeth clenched tightly together, and her brow furrowed as she tried not to get herself worked up
because of his dicky attitude. "I'll admit that I don't know everything about you, but I do know some
things and one of those things is when something is bugging you." Yeah, the fucking ticking in the jaw was
a big indicator. Like one of his neon signs flashing brightly. Not that she would tell him that. Some things
would be just for her to know.
The poltergeist removed his button up and threw it on top of the laundry basket. "Why would I need to
be mad?"
Lydia stopped pulling out the bobby pins and twisted round on her stool to face him. "You tell me?"
He didn't answer her question as he tipped his head in the direction of her vanity. "You got a reason for
keepin' that?"
She turned to see what he was talking about and realized that he was focusing on the things she had
thrown on top of the vanity surface. The numbered napkin was amongst the items and was clearly what
the dead man was talking about. Shit, she had forgotten all about it until now. For a man that claimed to
know just about everything, didn't he understand that she wasn't interested in anyone but him? So of
course, Lydia wasn't going to keep it. She hadn't planned on it and if the young mother had been thinking
straight when they left the tent, she would have thrown it in the trash there. "No, I wasn't planning on
keeping it. I'm going to throw it away as soon as I'm finished."
"Hmph…" The poltergeist made a sound as if he didn't believe her and pulled the undershirt over his
head.
Her dark gaze shifted to a glare and couldn't stop the urge to snap at the dead man. "What the hell's that
sound for?"
Betelgeuse crossed his arms over his bare chest and returned her glare with a heated one of his own. "I
wasn't sure if you'd toss it or not. You looked quite chummy when he was touchin' and flirtin' with ya.
The fuckin' cocksucker had the balls to do it right in fuckin' front of me!"
Lydia quickly stood up knocking over the stool while she threw her hands up in the air. "Betelgeuse,
you're acting like I was flirting with the man."
His arms fell to his sides and tightly fisted his hands as he snarled. "What the fuck do you call it? I come
back to find some asshole touchin' my wife and she ain't pushing him away. You just fluttered those big
eyes of yours and smiled like a fool!"
To hell with that. She had not been flirting with anyone, especially her ex. Christ, he had made her feel
very uncomfortable the whole damn time. You do not flirt with someone that makes you feel uneasy. The
sharp glare remained, and she stomped her foot several times in frustration. "Goddamn it, I was not
flirting with Vince!"
Fingers ran roughly through his shaggy mane and a loud snarl ripped from him. "That's not how it looked,
Sweetheart. The douche was practically fuckin' ya with his eyes!"
Lydia tried to keep her temper in check but couldn't stop the frustration that bubbled over. "He was not!"
The poltergeist's green eyes flashed brightly, and his features contorted angrily. "Fuck if he wasn't! I'd
fuckin' recognize that stare anywhere. He wanted between those sweet little thighs of yours and would
have tried if I hadn't come back."
The pregnant woman didn't care if her ex had been flirting with her or not. She wasn't interested in
another man other than her husband. Plus, what her and Vince had together had been years ago. Even if
Vince still felt the same way, she no longer did. Her heart belonged to her husband now. "Even if that so,
I'm a married woman and not interested. That ship already sailed a long time ago."
The dead man scoffed some more then rotated his neck from side to side and cracked it loudly. "Yeah well,
tell Romeo that, cuz he could care less if you're takin' or not. He fuckin' still wants ya!"
Wasn't he listening to her? Why couldn't he believe it when she said that she wasn't interested? That
should be the thing that counts, right? Her hands went to rest on her hips and her tone held an edge to it.
"As I told you before, I'm not interested in him! Why are you getting so worked up about this? YOU are
my husband and why would I want someone else? Christ Betelgeuse, you never acted like this about Luke.
Why Vince?!"
Betelgeuse snarled and ran his hand through his blonde strands again. "That's cuz the fuckin' douchebag is
breathing, while the little piss ant is dead, dead, deadski!" He pulled at the hairs and continued with his
omission. "The breather fuckin' wants you like I do. It was in his bloody eyes. I don't fuckin' know what I'd
do if I lost you, Babe. If someone took you from me, I…." Her eyes widened at his confession and the
clear frustration boiling underneath the surface. He halted his words when he saw her surprised
expression and released a loud growl before swinging around to hit the wall in aggravation. "Shit!"
Lydia jumped at the unexpected action and let out a small startled squeak. Her husband stiffened at the
sound and shoved his other hand roughly through his hair then blinked out of sight.
The pregnant woman stared at the empty space wondering why her husband had just up and left. Her
brows furrowed, and she buried her face in her hands for a few seconds. Why did he leave? Did he think
that he had frightened her? She hadn't been scared in the least and knew that he would never harm her.
He had just stunned her for a moment, since she was not expecting her normally calm husband to be
perturbed enough to hit something.
A sheen of tears flooded her vision, and she had to take several breaths to try to force down the
overwhelming urge. 'Goddamn hormones!' Lydia thought as she closed her eyes and continued to take in
calming breaths. Crying wouldn't solve a thing and definitely wouldn't bring back her husband. He would
return after he cooled his rising temper, though Lydia wasn't sure how long that would be. All she could
do right now was finish what she had been doing. Eventually the dead man would be home, and they could
figure out what the hell had just happened.
The young mother just stood in the spot for a few more minutes before opening her eyes and making her
way back to the vanity. She bent over to pick up the fallen stool then sat down to continue to extract the
bobby pins from her hair. When her raven locks were free of the hair pins, Lydia pulled the net from the
base of her neck and tossed it onto the table. She grabbed a brush, quickly running it through her long
tresses and placed it up in a loose bun. After that, she proceeded to remove her makeup with a makeup
wipe then made her way to the dresser to grab her favorite comfy pajamas. Slowly stripping out of her
costume, Lydia tossed the articles on top of the dirty clothes basket before pulling on her oversized
pajama shirt.
On her to the doorway, she seized the marked napkin from the vanity and crushed it in her palm. "Stupid
exes." Lydia grumbled to herself while she glanced at her now untidy table and made her way out of the
room. Damn, the table was an utter mess. Shit, she'd have to come back and clean it up, but right now was
not the time. After she got rid of the unneeded number, the freezer would be her next destination. There
was a wonderful tub of lemon sherbet calling her name. The last stop would be the family room where she
would plop her tired butt down and watch a few horror movies on the boobtube. Yes, that was exactly
what she needed at the moment. Some good ole murder and mayhem.
A few hours later, the sound of footsteps jostled the sleeping woman awake and caused her to groggily sit
up on the couch. Her hands rubbed her sleep crusted eyes before looking in the direction of the noise. Her
tired peepers widened as her chocolate gaze met the bottle green pools of her husbands. He slowly
approached her exhausted form and dropped onto his knees in front of the couch.
The poltergeist's pale hand went out to reach for her but stalled as if he decided that maybe it wasn't
such a good idea. Instead he jerked it back to his side and silently waited for his quiet wife to make the
first move.
A large amount of relief washed over the tiny woman at the sight of her ghostly spouse and couldn't
help the tears that flooded her vision. Christ, she missed him. The salty liquid spilled down cheeks as she
launched herself at the dead man and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.
Betelgeuse let out his own sigh of relief at the sudden contact and encaged her tiny body with his
embrace. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair taking in her sweet scent.
She twisted her face so that her cheek rested on his shoulder and whispered softly into his ear. "I missed
you…"
His hold on her tightened and spoke amongst her dark locks. "'Ah fuck Sweets, I missed ya too." Betelgeuse
pulled back, so he could see her face and groaned when he saw the tears. "Shit Baby, don't cry." His fingers
gently wiped the salty trails away then leaned down to kiss her softly on the lips. "I'm sorry I left the
way I did Sweetheart, but I needed to separate myself from the situation and to cool down."
Lydia sniffled a little while she talked. "I figured that was what you were doing…" Well she had hoped
that was what he had been doing. If she would have thought differently it would have driven her mad
with worry.
He wiped more tears from her face and continued with his words. "Babe, I didn't mean to freak out on ya
and… I didn't mean to…scare ya…" Betelgeuse held his breath and some unknown emotion passed
quickly over his features as he waited for her response.
Lydia realized that her husband had indeed thought that he had scared her or maybe even thought she
was now scared of…him. "Oh, Hun, you didn't scare me. Sure, I was a little taken back, but that was
because I've never seen you like that. I know that you would never hurt me!" Shit he wasn't Luke and she
knew that. He'd never dream of hurting her and has told her that on many occasions. Hell, he treats her
like a fucking queen. One that shits rainbows and multicolored glitter everywhere and doesn't care that
she is a walking and squawking mood swing machine.
"I know Sweets, but I shouldn't have freaked like that. That's not how we flow." He blew out a large
breath as he forged on. "Like I told ya before, you guys keep me grounded and in the right frame of mind.
I'd lose my shit if I didn't have ya with me. Fuck, you saw what happened tonight and the dick wasn't
even a fuckin' threat." A hand rubbed the back of his neck, and he released another lungful. "You mean so
much to me Babe. More than anything in this world and the next."
Warm liquid pooled in her eyes again, and she reached out to grab his hand to try and soothe his
troubled mind. "B…I'm not going anywhere. We're not going anywhere. You have nothing to worry about.
The only man I want is you. No one can ever compare. You…You make me whole." Her other hand came
up and grazed her fingertips over top of his cheek bone then cupped his jaw tenderly. He really didn't
know the depths of her love for him, did he? They say actions speak louder than words, but maybe some
things need to be spoken aloud. A tear escaped and slid down her face as she confessed the magnitude of
her feelings. "I…I love you, Betelgeuse."
The apprehension seemed to melt away from the poltergeist's body, and a toothy grin broke out on the
dead man's face. "Sweets…" Betelgeuse pulled her hand from his cheek and swiftly yanked her to him, so
he could kiss her soundly on the lips. He ended the kiss to rest his forehead against hers and softly
whispered in return. "I love you too. So fuckin' much."
Lydia beamed brightly and tipped her face up to connect their lips together once again. She threw her
arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. Their lips broke apart when her back hit the couch cushion
and a giggle rippled between them.
Her husband towered above her and ran his fingers over her cheekbone just like she had done with him.
He leaned in and quickly pecked her on the mouth then crack another large smirk. "So, Babes, what did I
miss while I was gone?"
Lydia's face flushed with color as she eyed the empty tub on the coffee table and sent her husband a
bashful smile. "I ate a whole tub of sherbet and watched those scary movies you promised to see with me."
Betelgeuse skimmed the empty carton on the table then to the random horror movie playing on the tv.
His lips twitched even more, and he coughed to cover the chuckle, but didn't broach the subject. He peeped
at the carton for a second time and coughed a few times before he leaned down to snatch the remote
from the floor. "Hm…I did, didn't I? Well let's see what's on, Babes." The poltergeist hummed slightly
while scrolling through the available movies.
Her brows rose at his poor attempt to hide his amusement but couldn't fault him for it. If he had eaten
the whole tub of sherbet, then she would have laugh too. Well…maybe…She really did like her lemon
sherbet, so she may have been a tiny bit upset that she hadn't gotten any. Oh, who was she kidding? She
would have gone all pregnant hurricane on his ass. She bit back a giggle and watched her hubby scrolled
through the movies.
Betelgeuse slowly moved through the horror section and pause on one that interested him. He removed
his green eyes from the screen and cocked his head in the direction of the tv. "Have ya seen this one
tonight?"
Lydia glanced at the television and notice that her husband had found the 1973 version of the Exorcist.
No, she hadn't seen that one yet. She knew that the movie was one of his favorites and it hadn't felt right
to see it without him. "Nope, I wanted to see that with you."
Another grin split his features as he pressed play and tossed the remote on the coffee table. "Good."
Betelgeuse juiced himself into pajama bottoms then carefully positioned himself behind her on the couch.
He gently pulled her closer as he snapped his fingers to bring forth a blanket while they settled in to
watch the flick.
----------------------------
AN: Wow, that was a way longer chapter than the last time. I'm not sure how it happens. Oh well at least
I finally finished it.
Did you notice the nod to some characters from the cartoon? They most likely won't appear again unless
you all want to see them.
I have to say, that I am not taking it easy on our lovely couple, but the drama and stress is needed for
how I want the story to progress. This will be the last of the drama for some time, though.
Okay folks, some of you have had questions, like how Betelgeuse is seen to the outside world or what he
does for work? Well, the first is simple, Betelgeuse looks like a really pale guy that doesn't go out in the
sun very much and that's what the outside world sees. Unless Betelgeuse wants them to see him. Also, he
is no longer covered in moss and dirt. I've always seen his character as not having a whole lot to look
forward to so what would be the point of taking care of himself. Now that he has Lydia and the kiddos, he
does so he's happier and cleaner.
As for the second, I can't say. My lips are sealed for the time being. It will be revealed soon though, so
don't fret.
If you have any more questions, feel free to pm me or leave a comment. I enjoy hearing all of your
thoughts and opinions. Please keep it up!

Chapter 14
Disclaimer: I don't own the Beetlejuice franchise. I simply like the borrow the characters from time to
time.
***

Lydia slightly shifted the cake box on her lap as she wistfully watched the golden scenery fly by. Her
little family unit was making their way to the parental abode for the monthly holiday visit. She would
have preferred to stay home for their first Thanksgiving but knew that if they didn't go, the pregnant
woman would be naturally hearing from her extremely vocal stepmother. That was not something Lydia
wanted to deal with, especially with the way she has been feeling as of late. The distinct possibility of
her blowing her top at her nosey and bossy stepparent was higher than ever. She didn't want to screw up
the delicate relationship that started cautiously building between them. Hell, it was a slow go, but it was
going better than it had in the past. No one could say she wasn't trying to understand one Delia Deetz.
Her attention moved from the passing landscape and her thoughts to her husband who spoke loudly over
their babbling daughter in the backseat.
"Babes, ya sure we don't need any more food? What about a third pumpkin pie or another platter of that
green bean crap?" Lightly teased the clever poltergeist as his bloodless lips twitched and his bold gaze
flicked in her direction before turning back to the familiar road.
The young mother huffed loudly and rotated her expressive eyes at his cheeky humor. "Betelgeuse stop
making fun. Believe me when I tell you that we will need the dishes I've made. My stepmother tends to
get overzealous about holidays, and some of those things can be…unique."
Betelgeuse snorted as he continued guiding them toward their intended destination. "You mean fancy.
Red looks like the type to try and be all hoity-toity, but we all know she's a fire breathing dragon."
The memorable image of Delia with fire shooting out of her nostrils came to the forefront of her mind
causing her to snicker lightly. Well, he wasn't that far off. Lydia genuinely tried to ward off more
snickers with locking her lips tightly together but failed spectacularly when they broke through her
façade. "Be nice, B."
The poltergeist scoffed and ran an agitated hand through his platinum hair. "I am and have been nice to
your folks and the Cleavers."
Lydia toss back her head and laughed gleefully then raised her inquisitive brows at him. "Really? The
Cleavers?"
He shrugged his burly shoulders and cackled himself. "What?! If they were able to breed, that's what they
would be; so wholesome and shit."
What was the deal with the old nuclear family show references? This was starting to sound like a
lifelong grudge. What did those tv shows ever do to him? Or does Betelguese just secretly like them but
is too manly to admit it? That did sound like her old man and something that he would typically do.
After all he did have a rep to protect. She snickered quietly and poked lightly at his side. "I'm starting to
think that you secretly like those shows. You know quite a bit about them. Care to share?"
Another snort sprang out of him, and he shot her a raised brow of his own. "Do I look like someone who
watches that shit?"
Lydia instantly flashed her beloved husband a toothy grin and positively affirmed her thoughts with
nod. "In secret, yes."
His pale fingers tighten on the steering wheel and he sneered while spitting out his gruff words. "I
wouldn't be caught dead watchin' those shows!"
She could not help to point out the obvious nor could she promptly stop the mild sarcasm that rolled off
her clever tongue. "Umm…Hun…You are dead…"
His blazing eyes turned to her and barked in outrage. "Oi, you know what I mean woman!"
Her plump lips upturned mischievously as she slowly shook her glossy mane and twirled a finger at him.
"Sure, you enjoy watching nuclear family shows. I wonder what other things you have buried underneath
all that bravo of yours?"
The outrage promptly disappeared and was replaced with a sly smirk of his own. "Other than my body." He
wiggled his light brows before returning his attention to the road.
Lydia rolled her dark eyes again and propped her head against the headrest. "Haha. Funny."
Turning onto the private drive, the specter laughed boastfully and dutifully sent his tiny wife a smug
look. "Well, I do aim to please, Babe." His brows jiggled some more as he pulled into a parking space and
shifted the car into gear.
Before she could reach for the seatbelt, Betelgeuse snatched the cake box from her lap and thumbed
towards the backseat. "How about you grab Bug, and I'll take all of this food you wanted to bring along."
The startled mother opened her mouth to speak but paused when her husband flashed a saucy wink then
hurried out of the vehicle.
Shaking her raven head and unclipping her belt, she quietly followed and made her way to the rear to
get their gabbing child.
After retrieving Lucy from the automobile and throwing the diaper bag over her shoulder, the expectant
woman eyed her spouse. He was juggling the reusable bags and the cake box as he snatched the rest from
the trunk. The loaded container teetered slightly causing Lydia to suck in a harsh breath before shouting
something to the poltergeist. "Betelgeuse, please be careful with the cake! It took me forever to get it
right."
The dead man rolled his green eyes while he juiced the lid shut. "Yeah, Yeah, woman, I know. I heard ya
cursing up a storm in the kitchen while you were making it."
Lydia made a face, remembering bitterly the frustration of that emotional day. It had not been one of
her finest moments, and the rampant hormones had not helped. Baking cakes was not something that she
normally dabbled in. No, her usual was cookies or pies and if she did make a cake, it wasn't anything
colorful. A simple chocolate or vanilla were her go to. It had been trial and error to get the color as
vibrant as she had wanted it to be, but in the end, it had turned out.
She promptly turned her nose up at the mocking man and stomped to the entry throwing a response over
her shoulder. "I just wanted it to be perfect for when we have the reveal."
Betelgeuse chose to ignore his charming wife's evident annoyance, raising the portable container to
inspect it inquisitively then continued to talk. "Remind me again why ya want to do that gender reveal
crap? You're not the type to jump on the bandwagon."
He was right. Normally she wasn't the type to jump on any bandwagon and usually left that to her
stepmother, but it couldn't be helped. When she had been pregnant with Lucy, there had never been ample
time to think about that stuff. Hell, she had been too busy looking over her shoulder and worrying about
any damage that Luke might have done to her pregnancy. Lydia just wanted to do something that was
normal. Even if she must jump on a trend. Plus, she had to admit it was kind of cute and upped the thrill
factor then just simply telling them alone. Blowing some hair out of her face, the hormonal female
willingly agreed with her significant other. "I know, but I think it's a cute way to reveal the gender of a
baby. Plus, it's more exciting that way."
Carefully lowering the confection container, Betelgeuse shrugged his capable shoulders and snarked out a
pained response. "If ya say so, sweets. Now come on and let's get this shit over with."
Her dark brows rose as she swept inquisitive eyes to the side. "You're acting as if this will be painful."
A grimace plastered his features as he scoffed loudly. "When dealin' with the fams, it's always painful,
Babe."
Laughing merrily at the dead man's dramatics, Lydia's rosy lips twitched into a sly smirk and curvy hips
swung flirtatiously. "Maybe for you…"
Betelgeuse snorted brashly as he diligently followed right behind, his gaze lingering on her wiggling
derriere while quipping back sarcastically. "That's not what you were saying the last time we were here."
They tentatively approached the familiar door, and the expectant woman paused a few paces from it to
twist around to face him with a loud sniff. "Well, it was nice of them to help you throw me a birthday
party, but whatever that one dish that Delia had made had smelt so bad. It wafted throughout the house
and made me freaking nauseated. If we hadn't gotten out of there when we did, our night would have
been over before it had even started. That would have been a shame, since it had been such a beautiful
night."
His green eyes glazed over for a second and his pale lips twitched into a satisfied smirk. The tone of his
hearty voice dropped huskily as he vividly remembered the extraordinary events that transpired that
night. "That it had babe…" He subsequently sent a knowing wink in her direction and barked out a
gravelly chuckle.
Lydia recognized where her clever husband's active thoughts had journeyed, and her rosy cheeks
reddened brightly. That part of the memorable night had heated not only them but the chilly October
air. The frigid temperature outside kicked up a notch and she fanned herself slightly before knocking
lightly on the front door.
Moments later, the polished door swung open to reveal her stout father. A broad smile was plastered on
his kindly face as he shouted happily at her with outstretched arms. "Pumpkin!"
She leaned in eagerly to give him a hug before pulling back to warmly greet him in return. "Hi Daddy."
His radiant grin widened while he stepped away from the doorway to allow them access. "Come on in,
sweetheart."
Lydia crossed the threshold with Betelgeuse in tow and watched the nervous twitch begin as her dad
acknowledged the silent poltergeist. "W…W…Welcome…B…B…Betelgeuse."
The amusement was apparent in her husband's eyes, but thankfully he smothered the obnoxious smile that
wanted to come to the surface and instead held up the bags. "What's up Chuck? Where can I take these?"
Her anxious father thrusted an unsteady hand and pointed in the direction of the kitchen. His stuttering
was worse than before. "D…D…Delia and B…B…Barbara are in the k…k…kitchen. Y…Y…You can
t…t…take them t…t…there."
Lydia had to intervene before her pops had either a stroke or heart attack. She stepped between them
blocking her father's source of anxiety. "Here Dad, why don't you take Lulu for me?"
He swallowed roughly and hastily agreed bobbing his round face. "S…s…sure Pumpkin."
She carefully passed along Lucy to her dad's arms and tried to shoot him a reassuring smile. "Thank you,
Daddy." Lydia handed him the diaper bag, before continuing. "Take Lucy's diaper bag. If she needs anything
it will be in there. I'm going to help Betelgeuse take the food to the kitchen."
Even with her form obstructing his view, her father was still stuttering wildly. "W…w…we'll
b…b…be in the f…f…family r…r…room." With that said, he raced through an empty doorway and
dropped out of sight.
The pregnant woman sighed heavily then turned to bestow her better half with a pointed look. "You still
make Daddy very nervous."
Betelgeuse glanced in the direction that his father-in-law and child had hightailed it to and snorted
noisily. He turned back to his wife and levelled his vivid eyes dramatically. "I just look in his direction,
and he nearly pisses his pants. What can I do about it?"
Lydia knew her husband was right, but it couldn't keep going on like this. She really was worried
something was going to happen to her father. There had to be something that they could do. It is possible
he just needed to get to know Betelgeuse better, and that would eventually soothe his anxiety. Her brown
eyes bore into his bottle greens and gently pleaded her case. "Would you try spending some time with
him? Maybe if you did, he wouldn't be so freaked out."
At her suggestion the poltergeist's face contorted in unspeakable horror and it undoubtedly reflected in
his tone. "Me spend time with Chuck? You're shitting me, right?"
She blew her bangs out of the way then bit back a groan of frustration. Lydia expected this reaction
though she was completely serious about him spending time with her father. It wouldn't hurt for him to
outstretch the olive branch. They were all mature adults here damnit. "No, I'm very serious! If he keeps
going like he is, he'll end up having a heart attack or something just as bad. Please do it for me." She
glanced up at her husband fluttering her thick lashes with her bottom lip protruding slightly. "Please
honey…"
Air released from his lungs and he look away from her pleading features towards the doorway. He glared
at it in disgust before returning with resignation. "Fine, but you own me woman."
Her expression brightened with a smile as she came up and kissed him on the cheek. "Anything Love."
He grinned down and winked at her. "I'll keep you to it."
Of course, he would. Lydia was certain she would find out what he wanted tonight. She stepped back and
led her man to the cupboard to hang up their coats. Once the articles were stowed away, she closed the
closet door and stepped eagerly towards the encumbered specter reaching out to grab one of the bags.
"Come on. Let me help."
Betelgeuse leaned away and declined her offer. "Naw I got it."
What the hell! This was getting absurd. Carrying a bag or two wouldn't place that much strain on her. A
willing hand moved towards the dessert container, fingers wiggling. "At least let me carry the cake box
then." Surly that was light enough for her to cart about.
Still the poltergeist seemed reluctant to give into her reasonable request. Lydia bit back a growl and the
urge to stomp a foot childishly. She was about to open her mouth with a snide comment when he
grudgingly conceded with an exasperated sigh. "Fine, but nothin' else."
Her lips snapped shut and twitched upward as she took the cake box without another word. She wasn't
going to complain. It was better than nothing at all, though she desperately wished he would stop
treating her like she was a piece of spun glass. Her cheeks puffed with a slight breath as the annoyed
female turned towards the kitchen and leisurely began the brief walk with her other half bringing up the
rear.
Just outside of the entrance, the duo could hear Barbara and Delia talking naturally amongst each other.
Their familiar voices were too garbled to properly understand what they were saying, and Lydia wasn't
sure if she wanted to know anyway. It was still weird to witness them being so civil, especially when the
first few years of living together were tense. The two women hadn't always agreed completely,
especially when it came to her; one understanding while the other was oblivious to who Lydia truly was.
Now it seemed that they have come to some accord and because of it, a strange friendship had started to
blossom. It was still something that the young woman was not used to, though she never voiced her
unease to the bosom buddies. Barbara was better than Otho any day.
As they stepped carefully into the cavernous room, both women instantly ceased what they were doing.
Their faces lit up with excitement and directed a smile at the expectant female. "Lydia!" Barbara and
Delia eyed the poltergeist and greeted him with a sharp nod.
Lydia glanced keenly between the two women and her husband. The tension amongst the trio was heavy
in the air. Maybe her ghost with the most was the cause of the mutual friendship? Well…They did seem
to genuinely feel the same about him; a large amount of mutual distaste and mild disapproval.
An exasperated sigh willingly left her as she gently shook the worrisome thought off for another day
and stepped up to the counter. She wisely directed a cheerful smile at the pair and softly placed the cake
box on the polished surface. "Hi Guys." Lydia thumbed back at her husband and the cargo of food he was
holding. "I hope you don't mind we brought some dishes along."
"My dear Lydia. Of Course not! Your father loves those mashed potatoes you made last year. You did make
those, didn't you?" Replied Delia as her glittering eyes eagerly scanned the bags in veiled hunger.
It wasn't only her dad who liked those potatoes. If Lydia remembered correctly, Delia had eaten two
large helpings that day. Her glossy lips twitched in amusement while her head bobbled in validation. "Yes,
I did. I also made a green bean casserole, Sausage stuffing, and four different pies; apple, cherry, pumpkin,
and lemon meringue." She watched Betelgeuse deposit the carrier bags on the empty surface and stepped
back to wrap his arm around her growing waist. She cracked a smile then pointed at the dessert
container. "I made a cake as well, but that is for after."
This time it was Barbara who spoke. Clearly the ghost's curiosity was piqued. "Why is that?"
The expectant mother bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement and cradled her ample stomach
lovingly. "Well, we recently found out the sex of the baby and wanted to tell you all today. So that is
what the cake is for."
Delia set down her spatula and clapped her hands together with a good amount of unbridled enthusiasm.
"Oh! It's a gender reveal cake! Barbara, remember the video I showed you? The one with the couple with
the cupcakes that had either the pink or blue filling. That was so cute!"
Barbara smiled affectionately at Delia's zest and nodded her curly head. "I remember Delia and it was
very cute." She swiveled round to Lydia and inquired politely about the dessert. "Lydia, did you make the
cake yourself or did you have someone else do it?"
The pregnant woman's ample chest puffed with fierce pride while she glanced happily at the cake and
back to the dead lady. "I made it."
Her husband tried masking his humor but failed miserably when he cut in cheekily. "Yeah made with lots
of yelling and swearing."
Lydia's plump lips pinched together, and her cheeks burned from embarrassment causing her to turn away
from Barbara and glare up at the dead man with a loud huff. "I didn't swear that much."
His wife's attempt to tone down his statement amused the specter further. Betelgeuse felt a snort burst
forth and slapped at his thigh. "Hell, if you didn't woman. You were madder than a bull trying to buck off
its rider."
Haha. He was such a talented comedian. For all one knows that was his day job? Yep, he stopped the bio-
exorcist gig and moved in the direction of comedy. Lydia couldn't help but notice she preferred her old
man terrorizing breathers to cracking a bunch of jokes. Christ, they were meant for each other.
His boisterous laughter continued while she jabbed him in his side and made certain he saw her eye roll.
That only trigger more snickers which was conveniently ignored as she stepped away from his embrace.
Her mouth was parched and wondered if Delia had any sparkling water.
Lydia wandered to the fridge to grab a bottle of water and a long neck. She knew a beer would shut her
man up and if it didn't, she'd have him check on Lulu. Heck, she would send him on his way as soon as she
promptly delivered his beverage to him.
Grabbing the refreshing drinks, the moody mother returned to her husband's side and held out the beer.
"Here. Now why don't you go see how Daddy and Lucy are doing?"
The poltergeist seized the bottle and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Ya bribing me to get me out of your
hair?"
A bemused smile crept onto her features while she popped the p. "Yep. Is it working?"
His broad shoulders lifted then dropped before he tipped the long neck to his lips consuming some of the
contents. The dead man pulled the bottle back and flashed his wife another impish grin. "Sure. I'm certain
Chuck will be thrilled to see me some more."
Lydia pointed a small finger at his chest and gently reminded him of their exchange minutes ago.
"Remember you promised."
His green gaze rotated in their sockets with his blonde head bobbing from side to side and both hands
lifting up. "Yeah, Yeah. I'll be nice and show pops that I won't drop him from any stairwells."
Her own stare narrowed, and her dainty hands went to rest on her shapely hips. "Not funny."
Betelgeuse brought up his thumb and pointer finger showing an inch of space. "It's just a little." He cackled
at his joke and watched attentively as his wife pointed at him again. "Go. Now."
"Yes Ma'ma." He saluted his angry bride then swooped in to kiss her on the lips before blinking out of sight.
When her husband had disappeared, Lydia tossed her dark head back and let out a deep sigh. She turned
to the silent women and smiled before glancing at the counter. "Do you need any help with anything?"
"No, we are just putting some things on platters then we are done. Why don't you unpack your goods?" Her
stepmother pointed to the bags then went back to transferring the food onto dishes.
"I can do that." The riled female nodded and went about delicately lifting out her hot dishes from within
the bags.
It wasn't long before she had everything open and ready to take to the table. Lydia tilted so that her
frame faced her stepmother and asked if they needed any more help. "Do you need me to do anything
else?
Delia pointed the spatula at a big bowl of sweet potatoes. "Why don't you begin to take out this bowl?"
"Okay." She picked up the dish and carried it carefully out to the dining room. She set it on the nicely
clothed table then went back and forth depositing platters here and there.
After they were done, Lydia slowly sauntered towards the family room to find her husband and child
and was hit by the weight of sudden exhaustion. Ugh, just carrying those dishes had spent all of her
energy. She placed a hand on belly and gave it a gentle rub. Or her baby was trying to tell her to listen to
its daddy? Betelgeuse did tell her to take it easy and so did Irene, but she just couldn't sit by and do
nothing. That wasn't in her nature even when she knows that she must.
As Lydia approached the room, the sound of some type of game echoed loudly from the tv. She stepped in
to find Betelgeuse sitting on the couch with Lucy on his lap. He bounced their child lightly on the knee
causing her to giggle and clap. In the corner was her father sitting in his overstuffed chair nervously
watching between the game and the brash poltergeist. He looked like a scared animal stuck in a snare
trap. The pregnant woman wondered if having her husband spend some time with her dad was really such
a good idea after all.
She cleared her throat and drew their attention. "Hey you guys. The meal is ready."
Her father flew out of his chair rather quickly and hurried past her with a quick thanks. "T…t…thank
you, P…p…pumpkin."
"No problem Daddy." She watched him leave the room then turned her focus towards her husband. Her
brows rising high in silent questioning.
Betelgeuse shrugged his shoulders and raised his free arm in defense. "I didn't do nothin'. I tried talkin'
like you asked but fuck babes, I'd rather converse with Big Red. Hell, I'd probably get more out of her than
a bunch of stuttering that dear old pops spews."
Obviously, it hadn't worked since the man bolted from the room in record time. Hopefully her father
would eventually relax and stop stammering around her partner. It seemed that it would take a larger
amount of time for that to happen. "Just keep trying please. You have to remember that you did try to
kill him."
A scoff rang over the loud tv as the dead man stood up and spit out the candid words. "If I had been
tryin' to kill him, he would have been dead, sweets. I knew that drop wouldn't do shit to Chuck. He made
it, didn't he? "
Lydia rested her forehead against her palm then looked up at him with heavy sigh. "Physically, yes.
Emotionally, not so much. Not that my father was emotionally stable to begin with." She began to rock
lightly from side to side and tugged her hand through her dark waves. "We did move here to get away
from the city, so my dad wouldn't have another nervous breakdown."
His freehand connected with his hip and cocked his blonde brow. "You saying my visit didn't help."
"That is exactly what I'm saying. I guess we will just have to give it some time. Now come on. Barbara
aided Delia with some of the dishes, so they aren't that bad this time around. It looks like they are
becoming good friends. Better than Otho."
"I'll second that. Though Red and Babs becoming besties most likely will bite me in the ass since they both
hate me." The poltergeist ran his hand over his face and into his shaggy mane while shaking his head.
Lydia contemplated his words and shook her own head in disagreement. She didn't think that they hated
the dead man. Now it had moved on to something a little less severe. "They don't hate you any longer.
These days It's evolved into mild dislike and a slight tolerance in your presence."
His tone was laced with unveiled sarcasm. "Gee that makes me feel much better."
The pregnant woman rubbed her bump and sniffed loudly. "It should. Now I'm getting hungry and need to
feed your unborn child."
Betelgeuse's head bowed and swept his hand in the direction of the door. "Well then lead the way, Babes."
Second's later had them walking into the dining room where the other family members had congregated.
Lydia noticed that Adam had finally left the attic and was now conversing with her father.
A grin bloomed widely as she called out to the spectacled ghost. "Hi Adam!"
Adam returned the greeting with one of his own. "Hey Lydia!" The light tone hardened as he switched his
attention to the poltergeist. "Betelgeuse."
Betelgeuse pulled his pregnant partner firmly to his side and addressed Bab's other half. "Maitland."
Adam's gaze traveled from the specter and to his wife who was chatting with Delia. "Barbara honey, why
don't we get going and let them eat?"
Barbara's happy features dimmed at her husband's words and before she could respond, Betelgeuse cut in
rudely with a question. "Why ya leaving?"
The couple stared at the dead man as if his head was spinning. "Because we are dead and can't eat."
The poltergeist shrugged his shoulders and looked at them with raised brows. "So, I'm dead and I eat.
Doesn't do shit for ya, but at least it's one thing that makes ya feel alive. Haven't ya tried to eat?"
The couple shook their heads in unison as their eyes flicked to the full table. "We haven't been hungry, so
we never thought about it really. Would we even be able to taste it?"
Betelgeuse tossed his head back and forth and confirmed their enquiry. "Actually yeah. For some reason
we keep our taste buds." He shook his head when it looked like they were going to ask another question.
"Don't ask me why. It's just one of the fucked-up things that happens when ya die."
Adam turned to his silent wife and softly asked what she wanted to do. "Honey, do you want to stay?"
Barbara gazed longingly towards the table and her hands twisted together. "If we can eat, Adam, I
wouldn't mind. I haven't had green bean casserole in so long and I did make those sweet potatoes that you
love."
The dead woman's eyes moved around to the breathing members and tenderly smiled at them. "Do you
care if we join you?"
Delia smiled reassuringly and motioned toward some empty seats. "Of course not. You are family after all.
Now come sit with us."
They all sat at the large table and began to quietly pass the dishes amongst one another. When their
plates were full, they started to eat in comfortable silence.
Delia was the first to break the stillness with a question to her step daughter. "Lydia dear, how is your
pregnancy going?"
Lydia swallowed the bite she had taken then reached out to wash it down with some water before
answering her stepmother. "It's been good. This month I have been dealing with a little bit of high blood
pressure though. Our midwife is going to keep an eye on it just in case it should get worse or I end up
with protein in the urine."
Barbara's soft voice joined the conversation with a question of her own. "What does the protein mean?"
The pregnant women slid some more food onto her daughter's tray before peering at the anxious faces of
her loved one. She had known as soon as she had brought up the complications of her pregnancy that they
all would be worried. It would be best just to explained what it all meant and hope that they would be
okay. Hell, she needed them to be okay because she was trying really hard not to let her own anxiety get
the best of her. "It could be a sign that we are dealing with the onset of preeclampsia, though you can
have it without the protein as well."
Delia's red lips thinned, and concern flooded her lean features. She cleared her throat and tried to hide
the worry with another enquiry. "Preeclampsia? That can be dangerous, right?"
Lydia wasn't going to lie. It could be dangerous if not monitored and left to its own accord. "If left
untreated, yes. We are just going to keep my blood pressure monitored and should something arise then
we will deal with it. As long as we can control it, everything should be fine."
Adam spoke this time around pushing up his glasses that begun to slide down the bridge of his nose. "But
the baby is okay?"
She tried to send a reassuring smile to all the worried faces. "Yes, the baby is fine and doesn't seem to be
in any kind of distress."
Delia released a shaky breath as her gaze traveled to the munching child and smiled lovingly at her.
"That's good to hear. Now how is our little granddaughter doing?"
Lydia fluffed Lucy's hair and smiled when the little girl shook her hand off her head. "Lucy is right on
track for her percentile and growing every day. She just started to use the furniture to help walk
around. I wouldn't be shocked if before long that she was walking on her own."
"Wow I can't believe she's walking!" Exclaimed Barbara, who leaned her head on her husband's shoulder
and sent him a look.
The young mother flashed a grin at her own partner and let out an amused laugh. "Yeah we were
surprised when we saw her and so not ready for her to be mobile."
Her father cleared his throat then began to nervously speak. "P…P…Pumpkin, y…y…you
w…w…walked ab…b…bout her age."
Surprise lit her features. It was rare when her dad spoke about the past. Her mother wasn't a topic that
he talked about that often. "Really?"
He nervously smiled as he continued in his stuttering manner. "Y…y…your mother s…s…said the
same thing to me when y…y…you took your first s…steps. I…I…I think we have s…s…some
photographs somewhere, d…d…don't we Dee?" His gaze left her to trail to her stepmother who was
adding an extra helping of potatoes.
The hungry parental turn up from her plate and shook her head in agreement. "Yes, I think they are in a
trunk in one of the closets." She swung her attention towards Lydia once again. "I'll have to find where
they are, and I'll have them for you on your next visit."
Lydia inclined her raven head and directed a genuine smile at her stepmother. "Thanks Delia. That would
be wonderful."
Delia returned the gesture then shifted her inquisitive gaze to Betelgeuse before flicking back to her
form. Her stepmother tried to slyly ask what she wanted to know without exactly asking outright. It was
not lost on those in the room. "So….Is everything else good?"
'Real subtle there Delia.' The young mother thought drily as she turned to her husband, brows raising
while he just rolled his bright eyes and wisely kept his mouth shut. She bit back a giggle and swung her
attention back towards her nosey stepparent. "Everything is great. I've been taking photographs again.
It's good to be adding new images to my website and I even sold some to a couple of galleries. Not that we
needed the money. I still have quite a bit from my last gallery deal and the proceeds from what was sold.
Also, Betelgeuse brings home whatever we need. I am really enjoying staying home with Lucy and cannot
wait for the little one to join us."
All eyes moved to the poltergeist at the table with a large dose of curiosity. Adam shoved his frames up
again and asked the other dead man what everyone else wanted to know. "Betelgeuse…are you still
doing the bio-exorcist gig?"
Betelgeuse wondered when they would stick their noses his way. It had taken less time than he had
thought. Biting back his sarcasm, more for his wife than his own benefit, he answered the wholesome
ghost. "Naw. I don't do that line of work anymore."
Brows rose at the unexpected response and silence descended for a minute before Delia's lofty tone broke
it. "If you don't mind me asking, what do you do then?"
Lydia sat quietly, biting her lip as she waited for her husband's reply. What he did was one of many
things that she didn't know about him. Everything about their relationship had happened so fast and she
hadn't wanted to come off as nosey and clingy. Plus, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know or not really.
Maybe somethings were better left unknown. After all he was a very power and considerably dangerous
specter. He had no problem hurting others when need be; Not that he would hurt her, but hell hath no
fury like a pissed off poltergeist.
His green gaze left the other dead man and grinned rather smugly at his condescending mother-in-law
while boasting with that utter confidence of his. "I now help freshly awaken Netherfolk adjust to the
afterlife. I answer any questions and deal with any problems that they might have. By speaking to me,
they don't have to use up their visits with their case workers and aren't fed the line of bullshit that
comes with it."
Barbara's brow furrowed in confusion and glanced her husband's way then back to the poltergeist. "Why
the change?"
A snort erupted from him and tossed his blond mane turning in the direction of the curly headed ghost.
"Wouldn't it have been helluva lot easier if you would have had someone there to answer your bloody
questions?"
Her furrow deepened even though she agreed with his statement. "Of course, it would have."
Betelgeuse took a bite from his plate then tilted his fork at the couple. "That's why I do it. My time in the
waiting room had me realizing that there were way too many Netherfolk saying the same damn thing.
They wished that they would have had some guidance instead of that damn handbook or using up a futile
visit and getting the run around."
Adam rubbed his chin with his thumb and pointer and shook his head. "That makes sense."
The poltergeist snorted once more and grinned manically. "It sure does, and it pisses off the higher ups in
the process."
Lydia smothered her smile at her husband's response with a sip from her glass while silence descended
the table.
Soon the plates were empty, and the half-eaten dishes were taken back to the kitchen and packed away
for later consumption. The desserts were distributed by request though the cake Lydia had slaved over
was on the table waiting to be cut into.
The pregnant mother nudged her husband with her foot and leaned around the high chair to whisper to
him. "Since everything is starting to slow down, I think it's time for the reveal."
Betelgeuse could care less if they told the folks or not, but it made his woman happy, so he would go along
with it. "Whatever you want to do babe."
Lydia's smile brightened before turning to look at the chatting couples. She cleared her throat and began
to talk. "As some of you know, we found out the gender of the baby recently and wanted to do something
fun to let you all know what grandbaby you will be greeting in a few months. I made a gender cake…"
Motioning with her hand at the white frosted cake while Betelgeuse finished her sentence. "So, we will be
hacking into the thing."
If the baby chair wasn't between them, she would have elbowed him. "Thanks B."
He ignored her sarcasm and winked at her cheekily. "Any time love."
Eyes rolling, Lydia pulled the cake closer, so she could cut into it. All watched excitedly as the knife
sliced into the fluffy dessert and the pregnant woman carefully lifted out a bright blue piece.
Happy shouts erupted at the sight and the couples hugged each other tightly. "It's a boy!"
After the excitement calmed some, Delia smiled at the duo. "Have you thought about names?"
Lydia shook her dark head at her stepmother. "No not yet. We just found out a couple of days ago and
have just been processing that we are having a boy."
Grabbing a napkin, Delia dabbed the corner of her eyes and nudged her husband with a shoulder. "I cannot
believe our little girl has not only one child but another on the way." Patting the spots some more, she
turned back to Lydia and sniffled slightly. "You grew up in the blink of an eye. Now look at you, married
and with kids."
Watching the formidable Delia Deetz tear up was too much for the already sensitive woman. She felt the
well of emotions rushing forth and softly pleaded with her stepmother. "Please don't cry. If you do, then
I will too. These hormones are worse this time around."
A snort erupted from the side and her husband's unabashed tone washed over the table. "You don't have
to tell me."
Her misty eyes narrowed in his direction and lips pinched tightly. The urge to cry evaporated when the
rise of anger overwhelmed her. She slapped the table top and bitterly snapped. "What's that supposed to
me? Are my mood swings an inconvenience to you, dear husband?"
The other occupants watched with wide curious eyes while the poltergeist scoffed loudly and returned
her glare with one of his own. "Now woman, I didn't say that and don't be puttin' words in my mouth! You
know I could care two shits about those damn mood swings and you ain't an inconvenience. You will never
be one to me, so get that out of your pretty little head."
They glowered at each other for a few minutes before Lydia turned away with a huff and silently
reached out to dish herself some of that lemon meringue pie.
No one said anything else as stillness descended upon the group. They all ate their desserts quietly and
when finished eating, they slowly started to clean up the dirty dishware.
By the time that everything was picked up and packed away, the sun had begun to set, and the small
family was ready to go home. Lucy had started to get cranky and no amount of soothing was working. As
for Lydia, she could barely keep her lids open prompting the young mother to head towards the coat
closet.
She jumped slightly clutching the coats to her chest when she turned around to find Delia right behind
her. Sweet Jesus! How the hell did the woman do that? Was she part ninja or something?
Her stepmother directed a tense smile her way and lightly cleared her throat. "Lydia could I have a
minute?"
Delia was nervous and that did not bode well. Lydia's clenched hands tightened on the fabric and her
voice pitched slightly as she forced herself to respond. "Sure. What would you like to talk about?"
The older woman flashed another tense smile before carefully weighting her words. "I didn't want to
bring it up and I am even more reluctant especially with how you have been feeling lately, but I thought
you needed to know." Delia rung her hand tightly together while she grudgingly continued. "I received a
call the other day from a detective inquiring about HIM." She spit out the word him as if it were poison
and her lips flattened into a thin line.
"You did?" It never crossed her mind that they would call her folks. Why would they need to do that?
The urge to vomit hit the edgy woman and her vision began to swim slightly. Couldn't they leave them
alone? Luke was gone and wasn't coming back anytime soon. If her blood pressure wasn't high before, it
was now. She pushed down the impulse to throw up and took in several deep breaths through her nose.
Her tongue felt heavy as she spoke. "What did they want to know?"
Delia didn't seem to notice her stepdaughter's internal battle and answered the young woman's nervous
inquiry. "Mostly it was about HIM, but they did ask about your relationship with your husband, Benjamin.
It took me a second to realize who they were talking about."
Stepping back so that she was resting against the closed door, her throat seemed to tighten
uncomfortably making it hard to respond. "What did you tell them?"
"Well, I didn't know your back story, but I tried to keep it as vague as possible. I said that you and
Benjamin used to be involved. It wasn't until a couple years later that you reconnected and ended
getting married. It was a far healthier relationship then the one you had with HIM." Delia crossed her
arms over her chest and tapped her heeled foot against the hardwood floors. "I also told them that we
haven't seen the hide or tail of HIM since he beat the shit out of you and we were called to the hospital.
Plus, he wasn't the fatherly type, so it hadn't surprised your father and I that he skipped out on you. Hell,
he wasn't even boyfriend material."
Lydia pulled away from the door and ran a shaky hand through her dark hair then sighed heavily. "I'm so
sorry Delia. I didn't think that they would call you. Their visit really shook me up and all I wanted to do
was put it all behind us. So, it never crossed my mind to warn you that they might contact you."
Delia's harsh features soften while she stepped closer reaching out to lightly touch her bicep. The tone of
her voice no longer held the bite it did seconds ago. "Lydia, I know we are not very close, but I do think of
you as my daughter and would do anything for you. I never want to see you hurt like you were that day
ever again and I most definitely will not help anyone to find out what happen to the punk that did it. He
reaped what he sowed and deserved what happened to him." She smiled softly and gave her arm a little
squeeze. "After all of that crappy mess, you seem really happy now and I won't have anyone ruining that."
Tears pooled at her stepmother's defense causing the young mother to blink furiously and reached over
to touch the hand on her arm. "Thanks Delia."
Delia's smile warmed immensely as she spoke. "Always, my dear."
Lydia batted her lids a few more times and sent a watery smile of her own. "You know, I am happy. So
much so that I could burst."
Light eyes flicked to the doorway then back to her form. A sigh left the older woman and grudgingly
conceded with the younger woman's words. "Even though I have reservations about your current
relationship…I know you are. Now dry your eyes and let's go say our goodbyes with the rest of the
family."
Lydia released the hold on her stepmother's hand and stepped away to wipe her wet eyes with the back
of her freed hand. She sniffled some and tucked a few strands of hair behind an ear while nodding her
head in agreement.
With the conversation over, both women returned so they could begin to bid others farewell.
Once the couple and their child were in the car, the dead man turned his eagle eyes on his quiet wife. He
didn't miss the slight puff around her eyes clearly indicating that the waterworks had been running
during her interaction with the dragon. "Lyds, you gonna tell me what happened with Big Red?"
Lydia picked at the threads of her coat then glanced up at her husband whispering in return. "Those
detectives called and spoke to Delia. She wanted us to know that she didn't give them any information
other than a vague story about our past."
The poltergeist grunted loudly, not looking distressed in the slightest from the information just given.
"They were most likely checking out our story to see if it matched up. I wouldn't worry about it babe. It's
routine in an investigation." He explained while shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.
His clarification did nothing to sooth her jumbled nerves and her response obviously emphasized that.
"Routine. Okay…sure…"
A sigh slipped passed his bloodless lips as he rubbed a hand over his face in frustration. Betelgeuse knew
that tone well. His little wife was not easily convinced when it came to the topic of those damned
detectives. They had set her on edge which was not something that was good right now. He tried once
again to soothe her worried mind by grabbing her hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss her knuckles
lightly. "Seriously Sweetheart, you shouldn't be worrying about it. Not with how ya have been feeling.
We don't want your blood pressure raising remember." He kissed the soft skin one more time and a light
breath of air escaped her tired form.
Lydia's free hand came up to pinch the bridge of her nose while shaking her weary head in agreement. "I
know, but I can't help it though. Just thinking about the whole situation kicks my anxiety into overdrive."
She gazed over at him with dewy eyes and watched him skim her knuckles some more then nuzzle it
gently against his cheek.
"That's for sure Babe, but dwelling on it ain't gonna do shit, other than putting you and the baby in
danger." He tenderly pulled the female in question into his embrace and held her tightly as he whispered
reassuring into her ear. "I've told ya before that they're not gonna find anything."
She clung to him closely, burying her face between the juncture of his neck and taking in the calming
earthy scent. Warm breath tickled the poltergeist's cool skin while the pregnant woman voiced the
apprehension she was currently experiencing. "What if they do?"
Betelgeuse reached up to stroke her hair soothingly and vehemently made a vow. "They won't. I promise
you that Babe." He kissed the crown gently before reluctantly releasing her. "Now let's get you and Bug
home."
Lydia wiped her damp gaze and shook her head, pulling away to buckle herself in. "Okay B." Even with his
reassurances she couldn't help the inkling of worry that smothered her waking days. Don't worry he says
but how could she not when she has so much to lose. Air forced from her nose as she laid her head back
against headrest and closed her tired eyes. The lull of the moving vehicle had her anxious form sleeping
within minutes.
Once they got home, the poltergeist sat back against his seat and took a couple of cleansing breaths. His
vision turned to his small wife and watched her chest slowly rise and fall as she peacefully slept on.
Their conversation earlier had troubled his mind the whole drive home. He rubbed his palm against his
face then ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. Betelgeuse wasn't sure what he could do to make his
wife feel better. Keeping her relaxed and worry free was the key but fuck if he knew how to accomplish
that. Right now, all he can do is take his sleeping family in the house and deal with it as it comes.
The dead man rubbed his face some more before finally slipping out of the vehicle. He quietly opened the
rear door and unbuckled his sleeping child then carried her into the house. He carefully deposited her
into the crib juicing her into pajamas and pulling a light blanket over her tiny body. Giving her cheek a
soft kiss, the poltergeist made his way back into the garage to get his slumbering wife.
Betelgeuse silently opened the passenger door and gently released his unconscious partner from the seat
then tried not to jostle her awake when he lifted her from the car. He shut the door with his hip and
made his way back into the dwelling.
Stepping into their room, he approached their bed and rested his exhausted woman on the soft surface.
The poltergeist's fingers snapped replacing her outfit for a comfortable sleep shirt and juicing the blanket
out from under her to cover her already shivering frame.
He glanced at his watch and debated if he was still going to run that errand. It was pretty late though
time meant nothing in the Netherworld. Hell, time wasn't the factor here; the red tape was and could
take forever to get shit processed. It was better to get this done so he didn't end up breaking the rules.
Not that it bothered him any to do so, but he promised Lyds and damn if he'd break it. Fuckin' a, he was
pussywhipped. The dead man never thought that day would come. Betelgeuse laughed quietly to his self
and shook shaggy head while he bent down to kiss his slumbering wife lightly on the lips before blinking
out of sight. He popped into a familiar dingy office and kicked back in one of the chairs to wait for the old
girl to come.
Juicing himself a cigarette, the specter slowly drew in a lung full of smoke and scanned the room. It
hadn't changed much. It was still drab and boring as all hell. At least she shut the damn shutters this
time around. Ha, the old bat must have gotten sick of seeing all those sheep perform the same shit every
single fucking day.
The door creaked as it opened drawing the dead man's attention and watched his old mentor step into the
small room.
She looked none too pleased when she spotted the sprawled-out poltergeist. Her pale eyes narrowed
suspiciously. "Geuse, what are you doing here?"
Betelgeuse puffed on his cigarette and blew out a few rings of smoke. "Aww is that anyway to talk to
your favorite person?"
Juno scanned the room and shrugged her bony shoulders. "Who is that? I don't see them."
The old broad did have a sense of humor after all. He placed a hand over his still heart and sent her a
wounded look. "Ouch and here I thought we were getting along so well."
A snort escaped her frail frame as she made her way to her desk. "You thought wrong. Now what do you
want?" Juno flicked her boney hand at his boots and glared icily. "And get your feet off my desk."
His feet dropped from the table top and carefully adjusted himself in the chair. The poltergeist continued
to puff on his cigarette as he juiced some papers in front of her. "I have some things I need to get
approved."
The old woman's face light up with surprise then tightened in suspicion once again while thumbing
through the paperwork. "When have you ever asked to do something?"
Betelgeuse contemplated her words for a second and shrugged his shoulder. "Well fuck never, but there is
always a start. I told ya that shit was gonna change." He drew in another breath of smoke and watched
his prior superior.
Her thin brow rose while she questioned him further. "And you come to me, Why?"
An amused laugh sprung from him and he shook his head. "As much as ya don't want to admit. You're my
case worker, Junie. If I want somethin' done, I'm gonna have to go through you. Everything ya need is
right there. All ya have to do is turn them in for approval."
Juno straightened the papers then set them down in front of her. "I will have to look at these before I
turn in anything from you Geuse."
The dead man agreed with her request and bowed his head in her direction. "Fair enough, but it's all
there nonetheless. I know the rules just as much as you do." He flashed her a toothy grin and raised his
lit cig to his dry lips.
"You know the loop holes as well." Stated the sarcastic case worker with another pointed glare.
Betelgeuse wasn't perturbed in the slightest and instead appeared to be rather pleased. "That I do.
Though It's not like those other times, but…if ya wanna read all that paperwork, well, I ain't not gonna
stop ya. I guess ya have to do something to deal with all of this fuckin' boredom."
Juno shook her head sadly, lighting a cigarette of her own. "Not all of us are bothered by the office
setting."
His face contorted into a snarl and the words that flew out of the specter's mouth were sharp as razors.
"Or ya just don't wanna stir the water and make waves."
She didn't seem fazed by his insinuation and sucked in a large puff of smoke. Some leaked out of the wound
in her neck as she spoke. "We've reaped what we sowed."
He thumbed at himself and tossed his blonde head in disagreement. "Not me. I just got placed here cuz
they didn't know what do with me after that incident with my car."
"Your car was alive and causing mass destruction in the Netherworld." Said Juno dryly, her free hand
coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose.
Betelgeuse's green gaze glazed over at the memory then his smirk widened with humor. "What can I say,
he just wanted to have a good time."
A billow of smoke escaped the wound as the elderly woman sighed heavily from the clear lack of remorse
on the dead man's part. "I wouldn't call plowing into Netherfolks and their pets a good time."
He looked at her as if she had gone nuts and flail his arms in the air in exasperation. "No one got hurt and
shit, they are dead for fucks sake!"
Ashing her cigarette into a small ashtray on her desk, Juno threw him another sharp glare then pointed
it at him. "I was not speaking about physical damage. Some are still seeing therapists because of it."
"Hmm…No shit." He sat in contemplative silence sucking slowly on the last of his cig before raising his
arm to lower his sleeve, so he could glance at his watch. He flicked the cigarette butt and it vanished just
as it was about to hit the floor. Betelgeuse adjusted his jacket and grinned toothily at the quiet
caseworker. "Well Junie this has been fun, and I'd love to stay and shoot the shit about my past deeds, but
I have another place to be. You know how to get a hold of me if ya need to."
Sarcasm was heavy on her tongue while shaking her head for the umpteenth time. "It was a blast as
always.. "
The poltergeist rotated his shoulders and puffed out his chest as he boasted. "When the ghost with the
most is involved it is."
The older women rocked her pale eyes toward the ceiling taking in another puff of smoke before waving
the big-headed ghost with her boney hand. "Go Geuse, before I come to my senses and change my mind."
Betelgeuse just grinned at her broadly and winked while blinking out of sight.

***

A/N: Holy crap! This took me a lot longer than I had anticipated. I'm not sure when the next update will
be so keep a lookout for it. I hope everyone enjoyed this latest installment and please drop me a review.

Chapter 15
Disclaimer: I don't own Beetlejuice and company. I only like to borrow the characters from time to time.

***

"Happy Birthday Lucy!" Every shouted towards the bubbly toddler as her mother snapped shots here and
there.
Lydia moved the camera away from her face and cooed gently. "Come on, baby. Blow." Blowing out some
air as she said that.
"You can do it, Bug. Blow like this." encouraged the poltergeist while leaning in close to the toddler and
expelling an unneeded breath.
Lucy attempted to extinguish the flame, but the gust of air came out more like a raspberry and spewing
her germs all over her cake. Having tried a few more times, Betelgeuse ended up blowing it out along
with her.
"Yay!" They all cheered and clapped, and the little girl copied them enthusiastically.
Betelgeuse grabbed the candle, and Lucy dug her chubby fingers into the sugary confection. She shoved
the pieces sloppily into her eager mouth.
The grownups in the room laughed at the child's antics, and all sat down to slice into another dessert
that didn't have Lucy's DNA all over it.
Once the small group finished eating, presents were brought out and gradually given to the adorable
toddler to rip into.
The expectant woman was on her feet much to her husband's displeasure; she watched through the lens as
her growing child opened one gift after one another.
The first round of presents was from her parents. They had given her a touch and feel puzzle, a large
wooden activity center that looked far too expensive for a toddler, and some dresses with lots of frills
and glitter.
Even Adam and Barbara had a few items procured via the internet and her folks. They got her a couple of
books and a sweet looking babydoll.
As for herself, she had splurged on some eco-friendly finger paints that she was so going to regret
buying, and a set of fountain bowls for bath time. Betelgeuse, on the other hand, had mentioned he had
something in the works. He positively refused to tell her what it was and said to wait until the party.
Lydia sidestepped to her husband, leaning over his shoulder to whisper in his ear. "Didn't you say that you
had something for Lucy?"
His grin split even wider as his green eyes sparkled mischievously. "That I do."
What was her husband up to? She cocked her brow and inquired about his mysterious response. "Then
where is it?"
He let out an amused laugh and ran his knuckle against her jawline. "Babes, my surprise won't fit in here."
His present to Lulu couldn't fit into the room. Her brows furrowed in confusion and questioned her
husband under her breath. "What do you mean it won't fit? What did you get her?" It wasn't something
outrageous, was it?
A cheeky wink was sent her way as he scooted his chair back and stood up. "Why don't we all go and see?"
He turned to the others and curled his fingers for them to follow as well.
The confusion continued while she and the other's tracked him to the other side of the room. "Go where
B?"
He stopped at the wall snapping his fingers, making a door appear. "Here."
Eyeing the large wooden door, she inquired with interest. "Where does it lead?"
The poltergeist smiled largely and nudged his tiny wife with his elbow. "Why don't we open the door,
babe?"
Lydia snagged Lucy from her father and returned her husband's grin with one of her own. "Okay." She was
game and wanted to see what he had done for their daughter.
Barbara and Adam stood off to the side looking forlorn clearly wanting to be included in the surprise.
Betelgeuse addressed them and inclined his head in the direction of the door. "Hey Ward and June, you
just gonna stand there or you comin' with us?"
Adam pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and sent the poltergeist a pointed glare. "You know that
we can't leave the house."
Betelgeuse ignored the glare and smiled knowingly. "Let's just say that you have a temporary pass."
"A temporary pass?" asked Adam in disbelief and eyed the man suspiciously.
The poltergeist's amused gaze bounced from husband to wife while popping the p as he spoke. "Yep, so no
Titan and no damn sandworms." They landed on Barbara, and he continued to smile smugly before getting
in a much-needed jab. "Sorry, Babs. No reunion for you today."
The curly-headed woman rolled her eyes then clutched her chest in mock devastation. "Awe and here I
was looking forward to it too."
A snort left the blonde as he quipped cheekily. "I'm sure you were."
Turning from the couple to his wife and child, Betelgeuse opened the door and motioned with his hand.
"Ladies first."
Lydia cautiously crossed the threshold and a breath caught in her throat. It was like stepping into a
quaint Christmas village. There was snow everywhere; on the ground, the pine trees scattered about, and
some was even lightly falling. It wasn't unbearably cold though and her husband, the planner that he was,
had made sure they were all dressed for the mild weather.
The small village itself consisted of buildings here and there with strands of lights tacked up around
windows and roof lines. They were also strung up in the area trees and anything that didn't move. Some
of the lights stood still while others twinkled along with the holiday music that was softly playing.
In addition to the festive scenery, there were also people going about their merry way. Some of those
folks were in the multiple shops, skating on the ice rink, sledding down the various hills or feeding the
pets in the small petting zoo.
It was so picturesque and perfect. The poltergeist had truly outdone himself. "Oh my god B…" She
exhaled while turning to her husband. "It's so beautiful!"
He snagged her waist, pulling the duo to his side and whispering in her ear, "Not as beautiful as you and
Bug."
"You sweet talker. You are amazing!" smiled the woman and leaned up to kiss him on the lips.
Peering down at his family, he flashed them a grin and boasted lightly. "Naw, just doin' what any good
husband and father would do."
She stood on end once more to kiss him again then pulled away and patted his chest with the palm of her
hand. "Well, you're doing a great job."
"Just comes naturally," retorted the specter with a wink.
"Of course, it does." Quipped Lydia before giggling at her boastful husband.
The couple was interrupted by an exclamation that resounded behind them. "Adam, look it's a skating rink!
I haven't been Ice skating in years. Oh, how I've missed it!" cried Barbara as she eyed the large outdoor
rink.
She stepped away from Adam and someone passing clipped her on the shoulder. The person paused and
turned to the deceased woman apologizing, "Oops excuse me, Ma'am."
Barbara murmured a response and the individual smiled happily then hurried away. She watched after
the person before twisting back in shock. "That man saw me. How?" said the flabbergasted ghost and
turned her focus to the poltergeist questioning him. "How is that possible?"
"All of this" Betelgeuse motioned with his hands spread wide. "is a product of my powers. So, everything
in this little bubble will be able to see and communicate with ya."
Everyone looked at each other nervously while Lydia gave her husband a knowing smile. This did not
surprise, nor did it frighten her. They all acted like Betelgeuse was some monster who was going to go on
a wild rampage any minute, and that was not the case at all. Yes, he was dangerous but only to those who
do him and the ones he loves wrong. Plus hating the in-laws because they feel the same didn't count
enough for anything nefarious.
Wanting to get out of the uncomfortable situation and away from her doubting parents, Lydia spied a
sign on a building stating Santa's workshop and nudged her husband with an elbow. "B, why don't we take
Lucy to see Santa and his workshop?"
He glanced over at the large barn-like building then reverted to his wife to carefully take Lucy before
kissing her lightly on the cheek. "Sure Babe." The others appeared to be relieved by the suggestion.
Delia tapped her red nails against her father's arm, smile brightening while informing her stepdaughter
where they would be. "Lydia, if you need your father and me, we'll be checking out the little shops around
town."
Typical for Delia to be going shopping and dragging her poor daddy around; that was nothing new. Lydia
wondered what her mother would bring home from this excursion, and if her dad would be able to carry
all the bags. "Okay." She said with a bob of her dark head then turned her focus to the ghostly couple.
"Barbara. Adam. Where will you be?"
Adam sent his wife a knowing smile before speaking up. "I think we'll go to the ice rink."
Lydia could hear her husband gag as she watched Barbara happily grab Adam's arm and whispered
something to him.
The gagging continued and caused the woman to send the dead man a look that clearly stated knock it off
then returned to the group. "We should pick a place to meet up later."
"How about that tent over there?" voiced Barbara while pointing at a large decorated tent off in the
distance.
Lydia eyed the structure then spied a wooden pole with signs that pointed in multiple directions. She
noticed one said warming tent and assumed that was what Barbara had picked. The young mother smiled
warmly and agreed, clapping her hands together. "Perfect. In a couple of hours, we'll all meet up at the
warming tent."
Everyone nodded in agreement and quickly parted ways. She watched each couple hurrying to their own
destinations before spinning back to her husband.
"Come on Sweets. Let's go show Bug the jolly man and his workshop," said the dead man as his large hand
entwined with hers and started to pull them towards the building.
When the small family stepped inside the workshop, they paused in the entrance and looked about. There
were tables on each side of the structure. Each table sat brightly dressed elves building toys while
others carried the finished products to a big bag resting in the back of a huge sled. The jolly man was
sitting in a simple working chair, talking to a small child on his lap.
Lifting her camera, Lydia turned to Betelgeuse motioning to the man dressed in red. "B, I'm going to snap
some pictures. Why don't you take Lulu to meet Santa?"
"Whatever ya say, Sweets. Just remember my left side is my good side." He winked and cackled as he
walked away.
"I'll remember that." Snorted the woman rolling her brown eyes to the ceiling.
"Please do." He called out over his shoulder while stepping into the line to wait.
She didn't say anything else as she began to stroll around the shop, lifting her camera from time to time
taking various shots.
It wasn't long before it was their time for Lucy to meet Santa and had the young mother moving back to
start taking pictures of father and daughter. Through the viewfinder, she watched Betelgeuse carefully
approach the fictitious figure in the large chair.
"Say Hi to Santa, Bug," cooed the poltergeist and brought the small child closer to the round man.
Lucy reared back and hid her face into the crook of his neck, crying out for him. "Daadaa!"
Betelgeuse took a step away and gently rocked the upset child, rubbing her back lightly as he attempted
to calm her. "Ssh baby girl. It's okay. The big guy here won't hurt ya."
Lydia lowered the camera and came running up to them. Her hand carefully ran through the silky curls
of the upset toddler as she spoke quietly to the specter. "Is she okay, B?"
Betelgeuse looked up and shook his head softly talking. "Yeah, I think the big guy just scared her that's
all."
He leaned in and gently kissed the trembling toddler's temple then whispered reassuringly into her small
ear. "Daddy won't let anyone hurt ya. Not even Santa."
The little girl sat up sniffling, some stray tears falling as she stared wide-eyed at her father. Betelgeuse
reached up and wiped at her wet cheeks gently encouraging the tiny tot. "Look what he has Bug. It's a
candy cane. That was nice of him, wasn't it?" He took the cane then pointed at the jolly figure. Lucy eyed
the unfamiliar man, and the candy, then took the sweet shaking her head cautiously.
Betelgeuse slowly approached Santa and continued to talk to his child. "See he's a nice guy. You wanna sit
on Santa's lap?" He leaned in once more and encouraged Lucy to go to Santa's open arms. "It's okay. Go on,
Sweetheart."
Lydia walked backwards, lifting the camera once more to snap shots of her daughter as she reluctantly
went to the jolly stranger and sat quietly on his lap. She clicked the shutter rapidly until Betelgeuse
retrieved their little girl and made his way to her.
She released the camera and let it rest against her chest as she followed her husband out of the
workshop. "So B, where do you want to go next?" asked the woman looking up and down the bustling road.
"Hmm…" thought the dead man for a second before brightening and tugging her along. "I know. Come on,
Babes." He snatched her hand and tugged the pregnant woman along the cobbled street.
"Wait! Where are we going?" asked Lydia while scrutinizing the other buildings as they passed.
Betelgeuse just laughed with a wink and answered cryptically. "You'll see."
Soon snow-covered hills came into view, and the young mother could see people sliding down the various
sized peaks. It was then that Lydia realized what her husband wanted to do. "Sledding?" She hadn't been
sledding since she was a small child. It had been years, and she wondered if it would be okay for Lucy. Is
one too young to go sledding? Lydia wasn't sure and turned to the poltergeist voicing her concern. "Is
this even safe for Lulu? Or for me?"
A snort left the man, and he rocked his green gaze to the cast over sky before answering. "If it wasn't
safe I wouldn't have suggested it in the first place. It isn't that big. It's a freakin' bunny hill." She still
didn't look convinced, and an exasperated sigh left him. "I talked to Iron Maiden, and she gave the green
light, Babe."
He spoke to Irene before this outing to make sure it would be safe. "You sure she said it was okay?" She
inquired hesitantly. It wasn't like she didn't believe him, but her husband tended to go with his rules
rather than ones established. Not that he would do anything to endanger the pregnancy even with all of
his rebel without a cause bluster.
Betelgeuse stepped closer, pulling her gently to him and kissed her on the lips. "Yes, as long as the hill is
small with no bumps and sharp dips. Hence the bunny hill." He kissed her again and rested his forehead
against hers. "Plus, I ain't gonna let anything happen to you or our little ones. You know I'll keep ya safe."
Naturally, he would always keep them safe. She knew she was worrying for nothing, but this pregnancy
just had her really on edge. Everything was going so well, and the nervous woman couldn't help feeling
like the bottom of the basket could give at any moment. It was silly and had to be because of the mess of
hormones and stress. Lydia chased away the ridiculous line of thinking and stood up to kiss his cool lips
conceding lightly. "Okay. Let's go sledding."
He smiled widely and helped her up the small hill leading them to a rack holding some sleds. They
grabbed one and perched it on the edge. Betelgeuse placed a foot on a runner to keep it in place while he
carefully assisted his wife onto the wooden surface. He passed Lucy to her then sat down behind them,
taking the leads in his hand. "Hold tight to Bug. Here we go." Dropping his foot, the poltergeist kicked the
sled over the edge tightening his hold around his wife and child as they slid down the hill. Their child
squealed as the cool breeze kissed her chubby cheeks and had her holding tightly to both of her parent's
sleeves. Lydia laughed and leaned into her husband's hold, enjoying the ride down.
When they reached the bottom, Betelgeuse hopped from the sled grinning widely and wiggling his brows.
"Ya wanna go again?"
"Yes!" She hooted happily and tried to stand up, so they could walk to the top once more. A hand landed on
her shoulder and gently pushed her rump back to the wooden surface. Her forehead crinkled and turned
her questioning gaze up at her husband.
His smile flashed brightly while running the back of his fingers against her cool cheek as he softly
suggested. "Why don't you and Bug sit, and I'll pull ya up?"
Lydia knew his still heart was in the right place but couldn't help feeling the irritation bubble forth. It
wasn't as if she were going to injure herself by walking up the bunny hill. Yes, she could slip and fall,
though she doubted that the poltergeist looking down at her would let that happen. Taking in a deep
breath, the pregnant woman pushed away from the agitation and blew out a puff of warm air. "B, walking
up this isn't going to hurt me."
If the man noticed her irritation, he didn't comment on it as he dropped down into a crouch leaning in to
lightly touch his lips to her. He pulled back running his hand over her cheek again before answering, "I
know but you've been so tired lately, and it's taking a lot of your energy just brewing lil bean. I want ya
to take it easy and rest. Let me do this Babe."
When he puts it that way, she could not argue with him now and felt the annoyance melt away. "Fine."
She relented with a reassuring smile.
He appeared relieved by her response and kissed her once more before grabbing the leads and standing.
"Now mush!" She cried out cracking an invisible whip and laughing. The specter shook his head chuckling
deeply then began to pull them up the hill for another round of sledding.
After a while, Lydia stood at the bottom following the duo as they slide down the snowy mount. She
snapped a few shots of them that went unnoticed by both father and daughter. Shivering from the cold,
she let go of her camera and rubbed her hands together for warmth. Maybe it was time to retire to the
meeting place. Plus, she was feeling a little parched, so a drink would be nice and would help warm her as
well.
When the duo came to a stop a few feet away, Lydia approached the sled. "Hey B," She thumbed the
meeting area while talking. "how about we head to the tent, so Lucy and I can warm up and get something
hot to drink?"
Jumping up from the sled, he reached out to feel her cheek then to Lucy's before agreeing. "Yeah. Ya both
are pretty chilled." Betelgeuse juiced the sled away then wove an arm around her waist and began to
move them in the direction of the tent.
Stepping inside the heated structure, the trio spotted the in-laws and hurried to the table that they had
procured. Lydia smiled while examining the bags on the floor and pulling up a seat. She plopped down, and
greeted her parents wittily, "Hi Delia, Dad. I see your shopping excursion was fruitful."
Her father made a pained face as he warily eyed the bags. Her stepmother just laughed and started to dig
in one of the bags. "Yes, it was." She turned up from the bag with a frown. "Though will I even be able to
bring all this home and if the village isn't real, where is the money going?"
That was an excellent question and one that Lydia didn't know. She pivoted her focus to her husband
brows raising in question. He winked at her then shifted his gaze to his mother-in-law snorting loudly,
"You'll keep whatever ya bought, and the money ya spend goes to a domestic violence shelter in the area."
Delia's mouth dropped in shock while her eyes scanned the specter for a few seconds. Something passed in
her light stare and flicked to Lydia before jumping back to the dead man softly speaking. "That's
very…decent of you."
Yes, it was, and Lydia was touched that he would send any proceeds spent by her parents to a local
shelter instead of lining a certain pocket. She watched her husband's broad chest puff in pride as he
grinned widely at Delia.
"Thanks, Red. I have my moments." Boasted the poltergeist and slung an around his petite wife.
The jingle of bells resounded in the distance drawing Betelgeuse's attention away from his in-laws and to
the wide-open door. A horse-drawn sleigh stopped just outside, and the driver appeared to be waiting for
the next fair. He regarded it for a few seconds then turned his focus to his woman whispering. "Sweets
why don't ya get some hot chocolate?"
Ooh, hot chocolate sounded good though she would kill for something citrusy instead. They most likely
didn't have anything. Well, when they got home, there was a jug of lemonade with her name on it and
maybe some of the lemon tart if there was any left. She couldn't remember if she finished it off or not.
Damn pregnancy brain. "Okay. Do you want one as well?" asked the flustered mom as she stood up to leave.
Her husband shook his shaggy head and waved her off. "Nah I'm good."
"Alright. I'll be back then." She leaned in to kiss his pearlescent cheek, then hurried in the direction of
the food and drinks.
Betelgeuse juiced a high chair and placed the small child down before turning to the in-laws. "Red. Chuck.
Would ya mind watching Bug while Lyds and I go for a ride?" He motioned to the open doorway while
snapping his fingers and producing Lucy's favorite snacks and sippy cup.
The couple spied the horse-drawn sled then returned their attention to the poltergeist. Delia sent the
dead man an undecipherable look as her normally haughty tone changed to something much softer. "I
think Lydia would love to do that."
Opening his mouth to respond, he was interrupted by his wife's pleased voice. "Mmm.. this is good." She sat
down and lifted her cup to her parents. "Have you tried the hot chocolate?"
Her stepmother motion to their half-filled cups and shook her head. "No, your father and I both got the
hot apple cider."
Lydia peered at the cup morosely and cooed gently. "Ooh. I should have gotten that. Is it tarty?"
Delia reached out and lifted the disposable cup to lips drinking deeply. She pulled back and replied with a
shake. "No, this one is rather sweet."
The pregnant woman frowned at the news. "That sucks. Well, you two should try the hot chocolate before
we leave." She lifted her cup again, then sipped the chocolaty goodness.
Betelgeuse nudged his wife with a shoulder and pointed to the entrance. "Hey Babes, how about we go for
a ride?" He wiggled his brows and flashed a cheeky grin.
She smiled back then glanced at their daughter munching in the highchair. "What about Lulu?" asked the
younger mother while twisting back to her husband.
He stood up and motion to her parents before holding out his hand to help her stand. "Your folks said they
would watch her until we come back."
Slipping her hand into his and allowing him to carefully pull her up, Lydia look over at her folks
reaffirming that it was indeed okay. "Are you sure you two? We can take her with us?" It would be nice
to spend a little time alone with her husband but if they had to bring Lulu with them, then they would.
It would be a pleasant ride either way.
"N…n…no, i…i…it's fine. G…g…g…go have fun. We will be r…r…right here when you return,"
stuttered her father smiling shakily as her stepmother agreed with his statement patting his arm
lightly.
Lydia opened her mouth to say something then snapped it shut. She heaved softly and hesitantly
consented before leaning in to kiss Lucy on the cheek as Betelgeuse ruffled the small girl's curly crown.
Pulling her focus back to her parents, she produced a thankful smile then started to speak. "It shouldn't
take us that long. We will be back in a couple of minutes."
Waving her off, her parents just shook their heads and chortled reassuringly. "Take your time and have
fun." The older couple said as the younger slowly walked away from the table and toward the open
entrance.
When the pair reached an empty sleigh, Betelgeuse carefully helped his wife into the seat. "Watch your
step Sweets. Here let me help."
"Thanks, B," she said when the poltergeist sat down on the cushion beside her.
He threw an arm over her shoulders and kissed her temple whispering. "Always Sweets." He noticed her
shiver and realized that it hadn't been from his kiss but rather the lack of blankets. "Now we need
something to keep us warm." He snapped his fingers and produced a warm and fluffy blanket. "Aah, that
will do just fine. You warm Lyds?"
The pregnant woman snuggled into the warm blanket and peered up at him with a pleased grin. "Yeah nice
and toasty."
"Good." He pulled her close while waving at the driver to go.
They were quiet for some time watching the rolling scenery before Lydia broke the comfortable silence.
"You didn't have to do all this, you know." It was all so beautiful and must have taken a lot of juice just to
make this birthday gift. She didn't want B to run himself ragged just to please them. They didn't need
fancy stuff to be happy. Him being with them was enough.
The dead man knew what his wife meant and hugged her tightly to his side kissing her temple once again.
He pulled away, shrugging gently. "Yeah, but I wanted to, and bug seems to be enjoying herself. By the
time we get home, she'll be out like a light."
"That she will." Lydia agreed with a small chuckle. Her slight form shook as she rested her cheek against
his clothed chest. "I love you, B," murmured the expectant woman while studying the snowy landscape.
This time he kissed the crown of her head and whispered into her dark mane. "I love you too, Babes."
The couple said nothing else as they both turned their attention to the winter wonderland in
companionable silence.
It was hours later by the time the trio made it back home. Lucy wore out from the exciting outing and
was down for the night while her husband was off doing some secret project for Christmas day. It was all
very hush-hush, and Lydia had no clue what the dead man was doing. She had asked, but Betelgeuse had
refused to spill, so she let him be for the time being.
As for herself, she was on the couch with her laptop, reviewing the photos taken. Ordinarily, she would
have already had a few selected and been in her darkroom developing, but it wasn't safe to mess around
with the chemicals. So as of now, all pregnant mother could do was flick through the pictures and select
the ones that were the best. Of course, she could edit on her laptop and print the photos or take them in
to get printed. It wasn't the same as doing the process in her darkroom, but it was the only options until
the birth of the little one.
Fingers flicked over the touchpad and paused. Lydia admired a photo of her husband and child. It was of
them feeding some reindeer. Lulu's face frozen in surprise as the animal fed from her tiny hand while
Betelgeuse's head cocked back, laughing at their child's astonishment.
A smile formed on her lips and the tips of her fingers tenderly skimmed the screen as a rush of immense
love for them filled her being. God, she loved those two so much and could not believe how lucky she
truly was. The baby kicked at her stomach like the young one was reminding her that he was there as
well. Lydia reached over to rub the spot cooing softly. "I love you too little bean." Even though he wasn't
there yet, she already loved him just as much as her husband and daughter. April couldn't come fast
enough.
He kicked some more, and Lydia wondered if he was trying to tell her something else. Ooh, maybe he
wanted some of that tart. If there wasn't any of that left because she couldn't remember if she had
finished it off this morning or not, there was a few lemon yogurts to quench her hunger.
Setting the laptop on the coffee table, she stood up rubbing her stomach several times before making her
way to the kitchen.

***
Addams Family: Perverted Values
Morticia clipped the flowering heads off the rose bush. The long thorny stems looked wonderful, why did
the plant have to spoil itself by growing those colourful flowers. She hummed a pleasing funeral dirge to
herself.

There was a sudden rustling from the corner of the conservatory. It was Cleopatra her African
strangler plant. She was making strange noises. Putting the rose pruning aside she stepped over to the
plant. "What's the matter Cleo? You can't be hungry. You had that girl scout just last week."

When she was six feet away from the plant its thick tendrils shot up and wrapped around her wrists and
ankles. Morticia barely had time to gasp in surprise before she was hoisted up off the ground. She fought
and struggled but the plant was just too strong and it's grip too tight. Cleopatra pulled hard spreading
her arms and legs wide, leaving her spread eagled and hanging painfully by her wrists. Morticia took note
to do this again when Gomez was around.
"Cleo, you let me down." But her usually loyal plant didn't listen. "Cleo. Let me down, or no more Jehovah's
witnesses." The vines rustled slightly but didn't let her go.
"She won't listen to you mother." Came a voice from the other side of the conservatory. "I trained her too
well."
From the shadows stepped Wednesday. She was dressed in her usual long black dress with her black hair
tied in pigtails. Her pale face and large blue eyes looked at her mother and she smiled like a vampire that
had spotted an open vein. In one hand she held the small corpse of a squirrel. It was flat and limp. She
must have picked it up off the road. She had probably run it over herself. Wednesday threw the carcass
across the room and it dissapeared into the mass of Cleopatra's vines. There was a lot of rustling as the
plant consumed her treat.
"Trained her?" Morticia asked in confusion. "To do what?"
"This, mother." Wednesday raised a single hand up and snapped her fingers.

At once more of Cleo's vines whipped up and stared writhing over Morticia's body. They groped at her
breasts and wrapped around her waist. Several more ran up her legs, brushing along her thighs until they
reached her sex. Morticia felt the thick, strong tendrils rubbing at the material of her underwear. She
looked at her child.
"What is this?"
But Wednesday didn't respond. She just clapped her hands together. At the sound of the clap Cleopatra
began to twist, grip and pull at Morticia's tight dress. The material didn't stand up to the punishment for
long and tore away from her. The tatters of the dress fell to the floor and the vines that had stripped
her fell back to the floor and stayed still. The tasks that Wednesday had trained Cleopatra for were
done. Now it would just hold onto Moticia until Wednesday gave the final instruction signal. Wednesday
however didn't have any intention of performing the signal just yet. She stared at her mother for a few
moments, looking her up and down. Morticia was dressed in nothing but a black satin underwear. Her bra
hugged her ample cleavage tightly, the garment looked almost too small, just a bit. Wednesday's eyes
roved down her mothers pale silken skin to the small knickers covering that secret place over her sex
and then down over the black stocking covering Morticia's long, slender legs.
"I want you mother." Wednesday said in her cold, unfeeling, tone. "I have stared at your beauty long
enough. I have desired you from from afar and now I will make you mine."
Morticia stared at her child. Was she really saying what she thought she was saying. "Wednesday. You're
my daughter. What your thinking is wrong, it is depraved, perverted and incestuous." She started to
smile. "I'm ashamed you didn't do it sooner."

That was all the encouragement Wednesday needed. She reached up to the top button of her black dress
and started to pop them, teasingly slowly and one at a time. She made sure she was especially slow as she
passed by the gentle rise of her breasts, letting her mother get a very good view of the mounds, still half
hidden by her clothing. She wasn't wearing a bra, or any underwear, she had been planning this day for
weeks. By the time she reached her belly button her usual patience lost out and she couldn't wait to
unbutton her entire dress. She opened the dress wide and shrugged it off of her shoulder, letting it slide
down her body and down to the floor. Revealing her porcelain pale form to her mother. With one hand
she gently brushed several fingers over one of her medium sized breasts with perfect pink nipples,
already hard with excitement. The other hand strayed down between her legs to her shaven pussy. Only
one tiny stripe of hair remained above her clit, which she rubbed and brushed gently, sending shivers up
through her body. Her pussy was so tight she almost struggled to slide her finger past her cunt lips. A
trickle of her pussy juice ran down her left leg. She could feel great heat coming from her sex. She had
been waiting for this for far too long. The anticipation was driving her wild.

Morticia looked at Wednesday and felt her own pussy awaken. She had never realised just how sexy her
little girl had become over the last few years. Had she known she would have done this herself much
sooner. She felt her nipples harden as Wednesday started to play with herself. Her pussy was so tight she
could barely fit her index finger inside her. But she was a juicy little thing, that was helping lube up her
digit. Morticia licked her top lip and wished that she wasn't restrained like this.
Wednesday stepped out of her fallen dress and right up to her mother. She reached up and brushed her
fingers over the woman's large breasts. The skin was cold as a grave and soft as silk just as she had
always fantasised. Wednesday gripped the bra tightly and pulled ripping it in two and exposing Moticia's
large and firm breasts. A G-cup and almost shockingly firm. Her dark coloured nipples were only slightly
hard and looked so delicious. But Wednesday didn't stop there. Her patience for the pleasures of her
mothers flesh wouldn't wait any longer. She grabbed her mothers silken knickers and ripped them away
roughly. Morticia was clean shaven. There wasn't even a hint of stubble on her perfectly pale pussy.
Wednesday reached out her middle finger and brushed it along her mothers slit from hole to clit.
Moticia took in her breath sharply as the gentle touch sent flickers of pleasure through her, waking up
her pussy. Wednesday looked at the small wet patch on the tip of her finger and placed it into her mouth.
She sucked it seductively, savouring the taste of her mothers sweet juices. So delightful.

Wednesday gently brushed the fingers of her other hand over Morticia's nipples, slowly exciting them
with feather light brushes and gentle tweeks and nips. They turned as hard as bullets under her
attention and looked so delicious. She couldn't resist and clamped her mouth over the large tit. Morticia
moaned softly as Wednesday started to suck on the sensitive, hard, nipple. The girl rubbed her teeth over
the flesh, sending more arousing pleasure up through Morticia's body. Wednesday closed her eyes and
kept sucking while her hands got busy. One hand continued to tease at her own clit and rub at her lips,
feeling her burning heat of arousal and trying to spread her lips enough to brush more and more of her
sensitive flesh of her cunt. Her other hand reached between her mothers legs. She pinched her clit and
Morticia gasped and bit her lip. Wednesdy skilfully played with the clit and while stimulating her
mothers delicate folds. The lips parted so beautifully, they felt like velvet. So soft and yet so warm.
Morticia moaned softly. Her voice quivered with growing ecstacy.
Wednesday released the taste tit from her mouth. The thing was lightly pin and slightly swollen after
the treatment she had given it. The girl dropped to her knees and used her fingers to spread Morticia's
pussy lips wide. She blew on them gently, making her mother gasp.

"So beautiful." Wednesday whispered in admiration. Her voice was still so low that Morticia almost didn't
hear her. Licking her lips Wednesday buried her tongue into her mothers twat. Morticia gasped and
twitched as her child's tongue pushed it's way past her hole and started gently moving around inside her
excited folds. She felt her juices start to flow as the heat built up in her pussy. Wednesday lapped up the
liquid with relish. It was so sweet and lovely.

Wednesday's other hand was between her legs, furoiously playing with her cunt. She rubbed at her lips
and pinched her clit so hard it made her hurt with ecstacy. Her middle finger was buried as deep as she
could get it into her tight twat, up to the second joint. She wriggled and twisted it inside her, pushing
and rubbing all of her insides. She moaned in time with each of her finger thrusts.

Morticia pulled at the vines that held her. She longed to be free so she could get at her child and give
her a good fucking. She couldn't stand it. Wednesday's tongue was driving her wild. She threw her head
back and moaned deeply. Her body was consumed with crashing waves of building orgasmic ecstasy.
"Deeper." She gasped breathlessly. Wednesday listened and buried her face deeper into her mothers cunt,
pressing her cheeks right up to the gentle folds of her cunt lips. She freed her hand from her mothers
cunt and brought it down to join its companion between her legs to tease and play with her clit and cunt
more intensely.

All Morticia cared about was Wednesday's tongue in her slit. The girl was slowly moving it around inside
her, teasingly brushing against her G-spot, sending powerful waves of pleasure that made all her muscles
twitch violently. With each movement she felt orgasmic shivers building up deep inside her core,
growing more and more powerful with each second. She was getting closer and closer to her climax.

Wednesday managed to shove her finger in all the way to the knuckle and was pounding it around the
inside of her pussy with all the strength and ferocity tat she could muster. She moaned deeply, the noises
muffled because her mouth was still buried in her mothers sex. She could feel a great pressure building up
in her belly. She was getting so close. She crushed her clit between her powerful fingers and almost
screamed. Her nipples were so hard they hurt and her face was in Morticia's cunt so deeply she could
barely breath but all of that just added to her ecstasy.

Her finger fucking and cunt licking grew more erratic and Morticia's moans were growing deeper and
more passionate as her own climax approached. "So close." She managed to gasp out breathlessly. "More.
More. More." She threw her head back and groaned deeply, sounding like a wailing banshee. Her orgasm
tore through her and she writhed and bucked wildly as her powerful climax consumed her. Wednesday
lapped up her gushing juices, sending Morticia beyond her orgasm. Each tongue lick was as powerful as an
explosion and was driving her insane. Her brain was on fire and her every cell was filled with lighting.

Wednesday's mouth fell away from her cunt as she collapsed. Her own climax tore through her and she
fell onto her back. She spread her legs wide and threw back her head, arching her back almost painfully.
She came hard, her pussy juices squirted out of her, forcing their way past her finger with great
pressure. They splashed on the floor two feet away. Wednesday twitched and writhed as she burned
through her orgasm and into deep and powerful aftershocks until she could stand it no more and
collapsed limply. Her legs flopped to the floor and her hands fell away from her pussy. More juices ran
out of her and formed a small pool on the tiles of the conservatory. Wednesday struggled to catch her
breath, her body was covered with sweat and she could feel some of her hair was stuck to her face.

Morticia hung limply on Cleo's vines. Her own orgasm had sucked her of her strength. It had been so good.
She had never cum that hard before. But she still felt the burning desire for Wednesday. Being licked to
climax was so wonderful, but never quite as satisfying as a good fuck.

As if she had read her mind Wednesday wiped some sweat off of her forehead and took several deep
breaths to regain some of her composure. She looked up at her mother and whistled three times in quick
succession. Cleopatra's vines loosened and released her and Morticia fell down onto her own legs. They
were shaky after her powerful sex session but she managed to stay upright. When she went down to the
floor and to her daughters waiting and still dripping cunt it was under her own power.

Morticia loomed over Wednesday and and kissed her passionately on the neck, then up to the cheek and
finally their lips met each other. Both of them opened their mouths and their tongues wrestled each
other. They moaned deeply and their hands roamed over each others bodies. Wednesday brushed down
the curve of her mothers back and down to her juicy firm ass. She squeezed it hard, digging into the
delicate flesh with her nails and making her mother groan in painful ecstasy. Morticia squeezed and
massaged Wednesday's tits. They were so soft and luscious. She pinched the nipples tightly and
Wednesday squeaked with the bolt that shot through her. Both their pussies were wide awake and
roaring for more at

Morticia struggled for a couple of seconds to properly entwine her legs with her daughters. But she
managed it and they pushed their cunts together. The two women gasped and shivered as their clits
rubbed together. Wednesday dug her nails into her mothers ass so deeply she started to bleed. The agony
mixed with ecstasy and sent Morticia into higher levels of orgasmic pleasure.

Morticia pounded her pussy harder against Wednesday's. Their hips started moving in sync, grinding and
pounding together in perfect rhythm. Their slits rubbed together consuming the two of them in fire of
building climax. Their juices ran out of them both, mixing as they ran down their legs and pooled with
their sweat over their bodies.

Wednesday was blind with pleasure. This was a thousand, no a million, times better than when she
masturbated herself. Fucking her sex-goddess of a mother was better than she had ever fantasised.
Pleasure coursed through her body, consuming her mind. All that existed was her growing climax.

Moticia furiously rubbed their clits together, moaning with wave after wave crashed through her as her
orgasm approached. She was trembling in her daughters arms and she was thrown over the edge. She
rammed her cunt onto Wednesday's and howled as her orgasm burned through her. She rammed and
rolled and brushed herself though the aftershocks and Wednesday groaned deeply as her climax grabbed
her. She wrapped her legs around Morticia and pulled her closer into her and she trembled and shook
violently as her powerful orgasm rocked her body. She couldn't breath and she felt her pussy squirt and
run as she came harder than the first time.

Panting breathlessly Wednesday released her mother and her body became limp on the floor. Morticia
lay on top of her and felt the burning heat between their bodies and their pussies for a few seconds she
could feel Wednesday's hard nipples poking into her chest and she also felt her own nipples brushing
against her child's sweat covered body. They stayed like that for several minutes as the last of their
orgasms faded from them and the tiny tingling aftershocks were left behind. Both could feel the others
hearts pounding in their chests and they were soaked in each others sweat, cum and pussy juice.

Morticia eventually found the strength to roll off her child and lay next to her on the cold tiled floor of
the conservatory. She reached over and gripped Wednesday's hand tightly. They both sat there for
another minute while they tried to catch their breaths.
"You.. were wonderful.. darling." Morticia said between breaths. Wednesday managed a small smile.
"So were you mother."

Gently and with some effort, Morticia managed to ease herself up onto one elbow. She reached over with
her hand and gently brushed her fingers over her daughters body, starting at her cheeks and down to
those luscious breasts, across the flat and firm stomach and down to her soaking sex. She brushed it with
her fingers, making Wednesday gasp.
"I'm so proud of you." She said lovingly. "Not even sixteen and already performing such acts of perversion.
It's an Addam's family record."

Wednesday barely heard her. Morticia slipped her long finger into her tight twat and she was being
consumed by her passions once more at the digit started to pump and twist through her insides.
End.

Double Vision
Chapter 1: The Meeting
The morning was damn hot. I lay there with yet another dead cheerleader in my bed. I could
smell the cool morning breeze fading into the dusty hell it would become later. Sunlight and I are not
the best of friends, I am an albino. The damn bitch next to me was starting to smell. Well I had her for a
month, that's kind of a record. What the hell was her name? Vivian, Venus, Valerie? Valerie! I'll have to
have Tiny take her out later. I'll just push her over for the time being. At least its easier to move her
than it is R.J. when he's out-fucking-cold. Well, hell I cared for him although some days he was a little
too nurturing. I pulled my blanket over my body. I loved this blanket although it was really a piece of
shit, honestly. Mama had given it to me when I first came home. Now it was thin but still that ungodly
shade of orange. By the time my mind registered someone was running down the hallway it was too late
to save myself.

"Otis!! !" Baby somehow flew from my door into a ninja jump and landed on me. Usually I was aware
enough to know to cup my balls because her landings could be catastrophic from time to time. Today I was
lucky. "How's my big brother?" She giggled.

"I'm great, how's my little sister?" I asked her pointedly as I began to get the leverage I needed
to try and dump her onto the floor.

She finally slid off of me and I found myself sighing in relief. Laugh all you want but one way to
scare any man is to know that his nuts are in danger from a flailing blonde. "There's nothing good to eat
in the house. Wanna go see dad?"

Oh gods, not fried chicken again. Please not fried chicken again. I asked knowing the answer.
"Why?"

"To get some chicken and Coke." How could she want chicken again? How the hell was it possible?"
Well while we were out dicking around across the country we did eat McDonald's every damn day. So I
suppose its possible. "And see dad."

"Well I suppose." Great the last thing I wanted was to eat chicken and see Cutter. Fan-fucking-
tastic. Baby smiled at me. Damn it, there was no way when she smiled at me like that I could tell her no
and she knew it. It was the Otis-do-what-I-fucking-want smile. God damn she was beautiful.

She stroked my hair. "So where's your lover?"

I was confused. "You're standin' on her."

 "No, the one that's still alive." She giggled. Oh, she meant R.J.

"Oh, I dunno. I guess fixin' something." We were having some time apart. Absence makes the heart
grow fonder. Although I also think absinthe makes the heart grow fonder.

She began to pull me. "Come on, get up and let's go." There was no telling this girl about patience.
I gave up years ago. I finally got out of bed in a combination of falling and being pulled.

"Baby, I have got to get dressed, I'm naked in case ya didn't notice." I laughed at her.

"Yeah, but you're cute. I'm sure no one will see ya." She winked mischievously at me.

"Baby, this might be new to ya but I'm an albino and the sun is up." I shook out my Pussy Liquor
shirt. Shit, I owed them late fees. Well if that little bitch Gerry gives me shit I'll slash his fucking
throat. "And I am not getting a sunburn on my ass and my dick for you or anybody."

She catcalled me as I was putting on my underwear. "Sexy whitey-tighties."

"Blow me." I shot back as I jumped into my jeans. Damn it, no socks. Mama, why do you have to take the
clothes out of my room? 'Cause everything was dirty, I guess. Shit it's Wednesday, laundry day. I slipped
into my boots. "Come on wretch, let's go." She slammed my hat onto my head.

I slung an arm around her as she slapped my chest. "Fuck you!"

"Fuck you, too." We paraded out the front door arm in arm. Our day had begun.

We took R.J.'s tow truck. I hadn't seen him all of yesterday. I wonder where the hell he might
have been. It wasn't like him to sleep this late into the day. Now I don't know if ya'll know this but
albinos can't really see very well. Now I try to drive every time just for fun. But whomever I am with
usually conquers the coveted driver position. I have driven once and it is a good thing that R.J. has a tow
truck. I didn't see a huge rock that was on the edge of the road. I still don't think Cutter has forgiven me.
I am getting better with driving, I just have to pay attention to the colors in front of me. Ain't my fault
and besides I have better talents. "Hey, we should go to a movie." Baby piped up.

"Baby, we have no money." I adjusted the hat to keep the sun out of my eyes. I hate the fucking
sun. "Furthermore, the nearest town is like 10 hours away that has a theater." We were finally at
Spauldings. I rushed inside-fucking sunlight!- and watched Baby bound along beside me. We were usually
never far apart anyway.

We came to the sight of Cutter leaning over a comic and crunching on a mutilated chicken bone. "Well if
it ain't my little girl and Whitey!"

"Daddy!" Baby ran up to Spaulding and hugged him fiercely.

"So what are you and Snow White doin' today?" I felt my fingers clench into fists. Some days I would love
to blow his brains out.

"Nothin' is good at the House and we're hungry. Whatcha readin'?" He held up the comic. Tales from the
Crypt? I fucking love those! I wonder if I can steal it from him.

"Well I got chicken and Coke." Spaulding looked over to see my reaction that I was failing to hide. "Oh for
Chrissakes, Snowpuff, I got somethin' for your finicky ass too." He went into the back and I began to stalk
the comic. "That book had better be there when I get back, Whitey." Damn it!

"Hey, Dad usually orders in two of them, one for himself and one for sale." Baby consoled me. "Why don't
you go get it off the rack?" What a good idea! I headed over to the comic rack and reached to spin it
when I jumped back.

There was this ghoulish thing with a horrible wig staring back at me. What the fuck am I looking at? His
deep set eyes hid by sunglasses. "Well, hi! Didn't really know anyone was looking at these. You like horror
comics? I love horror comics. Well actually, I like music. Music is my life." This ghoul held up a peace sign
after talking a mile a minute. I looked back to Baby with a what-the-hell-do-we-do-now look.

"Uh, no you can go ahead, I was jus'. ." I was lost for words. This ghoulish thing just kept staring at me. I
was glad I was between him and Baby though. He made a move for my sister and I would rip his fucking
throat out.

"My name's Sawyer but my Dad and Bubba call me ChopTop. You look like you've seen a ghost. Have you
ever seen a ghost?" I was speechless. What the hell was this?
********************************************************Author's note: Well after reading an article in which Bill
Moseley says how much he likes both ChopTop and Otis I decided to see what would happen if they both
met. The time frames are consistent with each other and both occur in the same state.

ChopTop
I still don't own Bill Moseley, but damn it I'm trying! I also still don't own any of these characters.

Chapter 2: ChopTop

I felt Baby getting close to me so she could also look at this weird little ghoulish bastard that
was hiding out in the comics. "Ooh, well hello." I could see him sizing up Baby. At this point I wanted to
break his face.

"Okay Driftwood, here's some spaghetti, now quit yer bitchin'. .Otis what the hell are you doin'?"
Cutter set the bowl onto the counter with a thud. "You buyin' somethin' or jus' curious?"

"Hi, I'm Baby!" She shot her hand out. Damn it, don't talk to him! I glared at her. It seemed that
we had the unspoken sibling lingo. She retracted her hand after glaring back at me.

"I'm jus' curious. I saw the serial killer museum thingy and wanted to take a look. Got to like
serial killers and all. I absolutely got to love Ed, Ed's my favorite. Choppin' up women and all that." Hmm,
interesting.

"Well have a gander at the display in back.. Otis will you stop lookin' at him like you're gonna kill
'im? I hadn't realized that I was still glaring at him. Something caught my eye in his bag. A razor.. with a
bloodstain on it? Now that is interesting.

"Well.. Otis, are you gonna come with me to see the display or not? Is that a real snake on your
hat? I once saw a snake.. " Jesus, did this guy ever shut up?

"Otis and Baby have seen it a lot. They're my son and daughter." Cutter as my dad? Well I suppose
in the loosest sense of the word, yeah. I felt Baby wrap her arms around my sides. This was usually her
way of trying to soothe me. "Did you say your name was Sawyer, as in chili?"

She nudged my arm with her nose. "In a minute." I told her absently. She wanted me to hurry up and get
going.

"Yep, Texas's best chili from the Last Round-Up Grill." ChopTop seemed thrilled with the
recognition.

"I love that chili!" Cutter burst forth laughing. "Hell boy, what you doin' way out here anyways?"
 "I got lost and hitchhiked here. You ever been lost? It is kinda fun but I really have to be getting
back and work on NamLand." NamLand? What the hell was that?

"You're lost?" Cutter, if you tell him he can stay with.. "Well why don't you stay with the kids at
the House? Mama loves company!" You fucking bastard..

"Come on, Otis. It might be fun." Baby was lightly massaging my sides. She could tell what I was
thinking.

Yeah, it might be fun to blow his brains out. "Well we need to eat first and then we can talk
about it." I tried to point out to Baby that it wasn't a great idea to have a stranger come to your house.
After all, had she not realized that was how we got half of our victims. Not to mention something about
this guy just made me feel like he was a real sick bitch.

"Great, thanks for having me over!" Where the hell did that come from? I didn't-"Do you have a
radio? I love the radio! Maybe I can show you how to make chili!" This creature needed some serious
sedatives.

"That would be great. I'm sure Otis would love another person over, right?" Cutter glared at me. I
locked eyes with the old man and I grabbed my crotch. Love this, bitch. "Take your damn spaghetti and
get! Half the day's over, it's lunchtime already!" I grabbed up my bowl of spaghetti. Well I can't bitch, at
least I'm not eating chicken. ChopTop followed us out to the car. I took note of his clothes: purple tie dye,
brown vest it was like he never left the 60s. The 60s were 10 years ago, my friend.

We all climbed into the truck. I was relieved when I climbed into the middle of the cab to
snuggle up to Baby. "So, Otis, you like horror comics?" Here came the eternal questioning.

I looked over at the grinning ghoul and smiled my best venomous smile.
"Of course I do."

The creature reached into his vest and produced a handful of comics. My jaw dropped as I looked
over to find Baby's expression the same. "Well I got these for ya as a way of sayin' thanks for letting me
stay." Well Cutter would just have to take the losses. Maybe this guy wasn't so bad after all.
************************************************************************
This is all for tonight, kids. I might do more tomorrow. I hope you all have fun reading it.

Playtime!
I still don't own Bill Moseley or any of his characters although I plan to someday.. The story gets
extremely graphic at this point. Contains rape, cannibalism, gore, violence, and hints at incest. Do not read
on if you are easily offended by Otis's hobbies..
*****************************************************************
We drove down the dusty road back home. It was an uncomfortable silence for awhile until ChopTop
opened his mouth again. "So what's there to do out here?"

"Hunt rabbits." I answered absently as I gazed out the window. Baby's peels of laughter finally brought a
grin to my face as well. I looked over expecting to see the scrawny ghoul confused but instead he was
still smiling.

Now I had the look of confusion. "Sounds like fun, I love to hunt "rabbits". He emphasized the last word if
he was onto our phrase. I looked at Baby after a moment and found her looking at me. With a shrug of
her shoulders she returned her gaze to the road.

We were finally back home. The smell of the food was making my stomach hurt. I had gone too long
without eating. Mama was hanging out the wash. As I was grabbing the bags of food I caught R.J. out of
the corner of my eye sitting in the shade of the house. I waited for the weird hippy booger to get out of
my way and headed over to my companion. We waited wordlessly until everyone had gone into the
house. I looked up at him and he ran his fingers down the side of my face. Volumes were exchanged in
that moment. He threw his head toward the front door. "I dunno. Some weirdo we found down at
Cutter's." I handed him a bag of chicken. Another fucker who could eat chicken every day.

His brow furrowed. "Why did you bring it back?" Rufus's eyes left my face and scanned the door.

"Because for some fucking reason Baby and Cutter like him." I sighed as I leaned against the wall. I
crossed my arms over my chest and looked at Rufus. Fuck, we had only been apart a day or so and I missed
him. He snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, my thoughts exactly."

"Will it be a problem?" Dear R.J., always the brood-hen.

"Nah, it's cool, I guess." He pulled me close to his body. He always seemed to smell like a car. Oil, leather,
and something else. Something I couldn't quite place but it sent my mind into a spasmic fit. Not really a
bad smell but one of those you just can't place.

He massaged my neck. "You have company."

"Wha?" I needed some TLC and you have to remind me that ghoul is hanging out in the house? You
fuckhead!
"No, I brought you some presents from the kennel." It was as if he read my mind.

"He seems like a sick bitch, well we'll just have to find out, now won't we?" I moved from his touch. I could
never stay there long because if I did I would get lost in it. I have to have independence and freedom, it's
just who I am.

"Tonight?" It was actually a demand only wrapped as a question. I smiled

and walked away until I felt his eyes burning into my back. I turned to face him and nodded coyly. It was
among the crunch of the gravel and dead grass that I could hear him sigh. It brought a smile to my face.
The smile only widened when I heard the first peel of screams coming from my room.

I entered the house all excited to get up to the room. ""Otis! Where in Sam Hell do you think yer goin'?"
Damn it.. Mama. I turned around slowly. "You haven't ate anythin'in days." Good point. "You're not gonna
go play until you eat somethin'." How old am I and she still treats me like a child. Oh well, it was nice to
have somebody care. I ate the spaghetti too fast and gulped down some milk. I knew that I would regret
it in about an hour if my body was feeling pissy. After hurrying with my meal and awaiting the minutes
that ticked by like hours. I raced upstairs.

The next thing I found shocked me. I swung open my door only to find ChopTop straddling a cheerleader
and slicing up her pretty little face. Baby was hopping up and down and clapping in the excitement of it
all. I was stunned, that was usually me! The fucker was doing my thing in my room! "Otis! Check him out!
He was a good find!" Her face was positively gleaming with joy. The scrawny fucker had just peeled this
girl's face from temple to jaw along the right side. He was clutching her jaw in his hand. Her exhaustion
betrayed her body and she didn't even have the energy to scream. She could only whimper. Fuck I was
getting hard.

Baby ran up to me and kissed me on the mouth. She rubbed her body up against mine. Now I am a man. A
woman rubbing on a man causes certain things despite any other moral problems you have with the
situation. She was just happy to see and wanted to be lovey. I had to step away from her as I felt the
first pangs of my cock against my jeans. The blood across that girl's white skin and watching her breathe
her last just sent me into bliss. I ran my hand through my hair stopping to grab some of it. Maybe the
sensation would distract me long enough to realize that a stranger was in my house, in my room no less,
and was chopping up my toys! The idea infuriated me but at the same time the imagery was too arousing.
I had to do something about it. Baby kissed me again more fervently this time. What the hell was her
deal? Fuck, she wasn't helping this at all. I had to take care of my throbbing cock. So my options were to
go find R.J. right-fucking-now or to try to get the corpse-in-the-making from ChopTop. "Come on, I know
you want her." Baby whispered in my ear. Fuck, her hot breath was driving me crazy. It was then that I
made my move.

**********************************************************************
Sorry kids it took so long to update this. I do really love this fic and want to give it the love it deserves.
Feedback is always adored and reciprocated!

Let the games begin!

In my dreams I own Bill Moseley and he is tied naked to my bed serving me.. but only in my dreams.. still
don't own anything featured here, damn it!
***********************************************************************
I flew across the room and snatched the girl's dying body from ChopTop. I didn't give
two shits that the little ghoulish bastard was staring at me as I drug her off into a corner. I ripped my
shirt over my head and tore at the fly of my jeans. I fell to the floor and landed on my knees painfully. I
slammed my cock inside of the still warm body, feeling its absolute stillness. I began to ride her as the
blood from her face poured onto the floor. Someone had moved my hair from my neck and was running
their tongue up it on one side. I gritted my teeth and moaned loudly. I caught a glimpse of blonde hair in
the corner of my eye. God damn it, Baby! What the fuck do you want, woman!?!? The sensation of it all was
driving me closer to the edge. I felt a strong hand grab a fistful of my hair and yank my head back. I
could smell R.J. I only had a moment to revel before he was biting a trail up my neck. The last nip was
vicious as he bruised my skin. I felt him release my skin after holding onto it with his teeth. He turned
my head with a grip on my hair and kissed me deeply. His tongue tasted the insides of my mouth. I
screamed but it was muffled by him. I started to buck into her quickly, I couldn't hold on any longer. I
could hear my own cries but it seemed so far away. The woman gave a last twitch as her system began
shutting itself down and I screamed and sunk my nails into her bruised skin. I spasmed as I emptied
myself into her. I dropped where I was and lay on the corpse.

"Tonight." R.J.'s breath was hot and demanding on my ear. I could hardly even lift my head in my
exhaustion. He began to put back on his clothes but then halted.

"Well Sawyer always said 'Sex or the saw' I guess the bitch got both." The weird little
ghoul launched into hysterical laughter. I turned my head as Baby pulled a young man across the floor.
She ripped her clothes off and straddled him.

"Please.. please.. let me go." He begged through his sobs. Maybe I'll cut his tongue out. I
disengaged from the woman and tried to get to my feet. After several tries I was standing.

"Shut the fuck up!" Baby screamed at him and slapped him. "You have one fucking minute
to get it up or will wish to fucking God that you were never born." Then her demeanor completely
changed into the little innocent girl again. "But of course you want to fuck me right? Didn't you say that
you could have any girl you wanted?" I cocked my head and watched her reach down between his legs
and take hold of his manhood. Despite his best efforts he was hard in no time. I watched Baby ride this
terrified kid. He began to thrust up to meet her. He turned his head blubbering something about "no" and
"this can't be real". I was getting ready to open my mouth when something threw me forward.

"Ignore me, motherfucker?!" Rufus was right behind me undoing his belt. He hadn't fucked
me in a couple of days. I tried to get fully to my knees but it just wasn't happening. I had hurt them when
I fell on the ground. It was going to hurt like hell when he rode me. I tried to wriggle out of his grasp,
but I knew better. Once he had a hold of you, there was no escape. I was momentarily distracted by
ChopTop out of the corner of my eye investigating the corpse I had just enjoyed. He began to cut more of
her body until he too was out of his clothes and mauling her. He was giggling maniacally and screaming
something about incoming mail. It was pretty funny as he had emphasized come. Well I suppose he was
okay with me and in my book. I nearly screamed as R.J. entered me roughly. It came out as a startled
gasp. He pulled out all the way and then slammed into me again. "I asked you a question!"
I felt his cock tense deep inside of me. "No." I managed. He pulled out of me slowly. It felt so merciful.

"No, what?" At 'what' he slammed back into me causing me to claw at the ground.

"No, I wasn't ignoring you." R.J. pulled out of my and slid a finger into me. A mewling sound escaped me as
he rubbed my spot.

"Damn the both of you." Baby moaned breathlessly as she watched us. It always was kind of strange that
my sister liked to watch us. She reached over and pulled her pants closer; removing the butterfly knife I
had gotten for her. With a few quick movements she began digging the boy's eye out of its socket.

"You're still fucking tight. Apparently I'm not fucking you enough." He delivered a sharp slap to my ass
and pulled his finger out. I could hear Baby's cries as she was getting ready to cum. A rapid rhythm come
to me from across the room, I guess that the ghoul liked sloppy seconds. R.J. slammed into me and began
to ride me. I cried out at this point. His huge cock was too much for me. But soon the pain melted into
pleasure. "You like this don't you?" He asked me still holding into my hair.

"Yeah." My voice was weak and my senses were spinning.

"Say "Yes, I do."" He quietly mumbled.

Fuck he was dominating me in front of our sister and a fucking stranger. He angled himself to rub his cock
along my spot. I was trembling at this point. "Yes, I do."

"Good boy." He soothed as he reached around and began to stroke my cock. Baby's ecstatic screams echoed
through the house. I moaned deep in my throat. I couldn't hold on much longer. "Otis, cum for me." I
shrieked as my body nearly gave in to his command. "I told you to come for me."

My concentration was broken by Baby flying across the floor to us. "I want to kiss him when he does." She
looked up at Rufus as if I wasn't there. You bitch.

"Get ready then." He promised her. R.J. suddenly changed directions on me, thrusting deep inside of me. He
slid his finger below his cock and massaged my spot while he fucked me deeply. Tears welled up in my
eyes because it hurt so badly. But the pain felt so damn good. I threw my head back and screamed as he
forced me to cum and Baby kissed me. Not just a peck either. She sent me into a full epileptic fit as her
tongue tasted my mouth. Now we had kissed before, just dicking around but this was something totally
different. I felt R.J. hold me in place on his cock as I tried to crumple to the floor. He fucked me for
several more moments before he growled and came hard.
Baby's laughter reached us. "God damn, I like to see you two in action." She patted me on the head. "You're
such a good kisser when you're all submissive like that." I managed to crawl a few feet after R.J. slid out
of my before collapsing on the floor. ChopTop had gutted this girl and was exploring her intestines with
great curiosity.

ChopTop was still naked and carrying an expression of curiosity when he approached me with a length of
intestine. "Now how do you make art out of this?" I looked up at him like he was crazy. Did he not just
witness R.J. rape the shit out of me? Did he think that having my ass plundered made me want to discus
the dynamics of the deceased in dcor? I just lay back down on the ground and closed my eyes. I was
exhausted and there would be plenty of time to talk about art later. I smiled as I fell asleep to the
sounds of gargling as Baby slashed the throat of her fucktoy. There was something relaxing about hearing
his sputtering. I began to drift off to sleep; it was so nice and peaceful. "Hey! Whatcha doin?' You wanna
play some more? 'Cause I do! I could play all night! Let's go get the radio!" I was torn from my bliss by the
rantings of this ghoul going to be a long night.

Electric Funeral
"RJ, yew didn't heft it fer enough," complained Baby, wiping sweat from her forehead and smearing
freshly shed blood across it. That didn't detract from her looks, however, since the vivacious blonde was
clad only in an old, stained bra approprated from one of their myriad victims and a pair of cutoffs (with
nothing under it) so tiny they could've passed for bikini bottoms. Taking hold of a bit of tough hide she
pulled very hard, tearing off the rest of the beef's hide. It was hanging from the rafters, headless and
hoofless, where Rufus Junior had pulled it up to for butchering. The skin could be made into fine leather,
or maybe Otis would find something to do with it. "Awright, Tiny I'm ready," she said to the shambling
giant waiting patiently out of the way. He shuffled up with the enormous washtub in his huge hands. He
caught the steaming entrails in the receptacle, blood splashing his patched overalls liberally.

"I dunno why they left me to do this," she mumbles under her breath. "Fuckin RJ out God knows where and
Daddy and Otis off on some boys-only bullshit trip. Fuck." The young woman finished butchering the
bovine, thinking about what she was going to do to her next captive.

Mama was washing dishes as Baby made her way through the house. "Did ya get it gutted?," the older
woman asked.

"Yeah, Mama," answered Baby.

"All right. RJ can quarter it when he gets back. Go wash up, I'll have dinner on soon."

Yeah, whatever, Baby thought as she went to the bathroom. It just ain't the same without Cutter and Otis
and RJ around. Especially Otis. *sigh* She had bonded with the gangrel stanger that her father had picked
up on one of his car thieving runs.

"Goddammit Casper couldn't you wait five fuckin' seconds so we could have a CLEAN getaway for once??,"
groused the hulking bald man.
"That fucker had it comin," returned Otis, biting his full lower lip as he drove. As usual there'd been a
fight about who got to drive the stolen vehicle on top of the the original reason why Cutter was pissed
off. The pale, wild-eyed man had been letting his hair grow for a while now and it made him appear even
more scraggly and dangerous.

"We had em eatin outta our assholes, and you had to go an' ruin all the fun by shootin that dumb fuck.
And get the cops after our asses."

"Johnny you should know better than that. You can never let yer guard down, not on anyone. I don't care
how placid the fuckholes are, they're doin just like I do: lookin' out for Number One."

"Bahh, yer hopeless. A good beatdown and shoot one asshole in th' head and the rest are sheep to the
slaughter. You need to get that damn chip off yer shoulder 'fore I knock it off for ya."

"Fuck yew, clownass," Otis responded, not unkindly though. He was thinking of sweet Vera-Ellen and her
adoring blue-green eyes looking at him with love and admiration.

"Wellll what have we here?," mused Cutter, scratching his straggly beard.

"Oh Jesus fuckin' popsicle," groaned Otis. A young, scantily clad hitch-hiker with hip stuck out steadily
grew bigger in the windshield as their car approached. "I thought you wanted to hurry an' get back home,
hotshot?"

"Mmmm.. now I'd love to sop that up with a biscuit," the clown continued as if Otis had said nothing. "Stop
the car, Otis. Come on, stop the car! You always play around, this time I get to!"

"You're gonna be the death of me," grumbles the lean killer but complies anyway.

"Where you going, little lady?," Spaulding calls to the attractive dark-haired woman.

Puttin' Their Foot In It

"You're awfully quiet tonight," observed Mother Firefly as she ate her pork chops and mustard greens.
Baby was rooting her food around her plate, not much like the usual gusto she normally displayed when
presented with anything mildly edible. "Yeah.. I guess I'm bored an' lonely."

"Well, I miss your father too. But I bet it's ol' Otis yer missin most, ain't it?"

Baby said nothing, only poked at the fried squash Momma had painstaking rolled in flour and fried. Vera-
Ellen was bonkers about fried yellow squash. Most of the time, anyways.

"You two do have a lot in common," mused the older woman, chewing the swine deliberately. "So are you
two fuckin'?"

"Momma!," exclaimed the girl, for once in her life affecting something akin to embarrassed horror. At 18
she was already well-versed in the sport of sexual interaction, having been raised by a mother who sold
herself for many a year. But love, however, was something she'd reserved only for her parents and
brothers. And Otis.

"Lookit you! I didn't raise no prude," declared Mother Firefly, flipping her blonde locks haughtily. "I just
want you to never ferget, that ones a poisonous viper in man's clothing."

"Do tell," Baby sassed. "Then how come I see 'im goin' to YOUR room at night?"

"Hahahaha, yew think yew know it all, do ya? I think of him as my child, just like you and RJ and Baby
Boy. I love him. He's a pistol though, cocked an' loaded. Always remember that, Angel-Baby. I gots to look
out for my lil girl."

"I know yer lookin out for me, Momma. But stay outta my bidness!"

Otis was grinning in spite of himself as he drove the car toward a secluded location where his partner
could.. do his thing. After the bitch was dead Cutter would lose interest, but that was just he beginning of
the fun for Otis. He was imagining what she'd look like cut, battered and dead. How the flesh would still
be elastic and yielding for a few hours before rigor mortis set in, and how the bruises stood out purplish
on the dead, fading skin.

"My name's Jenny," the black-haired beauty was saying. Spaulding was already cozying up to her, a bear
paw of a hand kneading a half-exposed breast. "You can drop me off at the next town if ya don't mind."

"Oh, not at all," says Otis, his pale eyes glinting in anticipation. "We just got a few errands to run, is all.
Might grab a bite to eat." Now where's that turnoff, the wiry man thought to himself.
"I don't have any money," Jenny says, pouting a bit.

"Oh, we can work summin out, sweet thang," Cutter chuckles, groping the lady for emphasis.

"Oooh, well if you want some o' that all ya gotta do is say so. I'm worth the ride, some dinner and a
twenty dollar bill, big man."

"You look worth it, doll," croons Spaulding.

"Dammit Cutter--," Otis objected.

"Just drive," ordered Cutter, brooking no opposition. "It'll be fine."

Sighing, Otis acceded, brow furrowing in frustration. Cutter was the one so big on getting home, now he's
wanting to fuck around with this hitch-hiking bimbo, probably stick some objects up her twat before and
after they killed her. He fought the urge to take his favorite Bowie knife and pin her to the back seat
through the chest then fill her cold, dead box with his semen.

Jenny didn't even seem to mind when they took the backroad turnoff, parking under some big shady trees
to escape the Texas summer heat. "First, the money, sugar britches," she says, stopping his hand from
rubbing her crotch.

"A professional, I see," chuckles Johnny. "Well, hear ya go," he says, handing her a crumpled twenty.

A triumphant expression settled on the woman's face. "Thank you. I'd also like to inform you that you're
under arrest. Vice Squad." A gun was pointed at the big clown's head. With her free hand she produced a
tiny two-way radio and called for backup to come pick them up.

"Fuck me sideways!," said Otis, half-amused, half-exasperated. "We picked us up a vice cop."

"Shut up," ordered Jenny, standing and backing to have room to shoot him if she needed to.

"Girl, you have no fuckin' idea what you've got yer sweet little ass into," Otis sneers at her. Cutter just
sat where he was at, blinking stupidly.
Overcoming Challenges
"Say what?," demanded the aging whore. "Tiny's fell down one of those shafts agin? Well shit on a shingle,"
swore Mother Firefly, putting down the fashion magazine and stubbing out her cigarrette.

"Yeah, come on I'll show ya where," Vera-Ellen says, pulling her mother along after her. They usually had
RJ and/or Johnny around to help get him out, but now it was just the two of them. After picking their
way through the increasingly treacherous dry, hole- and cave-ridden area they came upon a big hole
with Tiny down at the bottom. Upon seeing Eve he sheepishly waves at his momma.

"Tiny, dammit! How many times d'you gotta wander off on yer own into messes?! You're gonna have to stop
going out by yerself, hear me?" The chastened giant nodded his head in chagrin. Momma laid herself
belly-first on the lip of the shaft to judge how far down he was and estimated some 25 feet--she was
surprised the galoot hadn't gotten seriously hurt on his trip down. Way too far for her or Baby to reach,
she decided.

"What're we gonna do?," whined the young blonde worriedly.

"Shush child! I'm thinkin.. " Glancing toward the workshed she tells her daughter to fetch the strongest,
thickest length of rope she can find, some shovels and buckets. Unaware of the plan fermenting in her
mother's brain Baby obeys, running as fast as her lean, tanned legs will carry her. In the meantime the
older woman changes into a pair of workpants and boots, then her and Baby digs on one side of the lip of
the opening, and using buckets of water packing down the dry, dusty soil to keep Tiny from slipping once
they got him to the top. "Ok, Baby Boy," she calls to her middle child. "You know the drill, tie this rope
around your waist as good as you can and we'll hoist you up."

"How we gonna hoist him up, Momma? It takes me an' RJ or Daddy and Otis to get him up."

"Shut up and pull!," hisses Momma. Straining with all their might they tugged, digging tracks with their
feet as they yanked to no avail. They couldn't budge poor Tiny, waiting tiredly at the bottom of the hole.
"Damn," growled Mother. Sudden insistent grunts and gesticulating from Tiny brought the two females
attention to an enormous rattlesnake skirting its way around the lip of the shaft. All the commotion had
upset its mid-day sunning and it was now alert and ready for something to eat. "Holy fuck!," exlaimed the
mother. Both women froze.

Very slowly and carefully Vera-Ellen stooped to grasp a discarded shovel as the reptile approached,
flicking its tongue in an attempt to recognize the strange warm-blooded creatures in its midst. Baby
stepped in between its path heading straight for Momma and swung the shovel with amazing force, slicing
the snake cleanly in half. The two severed halves thrashed and twitched for half a minute or so, spraying
blood on the dusty ground, then lay still.

Both ladies let out held breaths.

Glancing around again Mother Firefly espies a tree not very far away and instructs Baby to wrap the
rope around it. "All right, NOW pull," she tells her, and they both pulled as hard as they could, sweat
beading on their faces and necks with the strain. Slowly they began bringing the deformed family
member up, inch by inch. Hands burning, being sraped raw, neither woman batted an eye but kept their
grip on the rope, leaning back as step by step they hefted Tiny closer to the top.

When they felt they could pull no further Tiny was close enough to the top to reach out with his long
arms, and with tremendous strength haul his massive form over the top, collapsing face-first on the
packed dirt. Momma and Baby fell backwards, Baby on top, gasping and moaning. "Well I'll be fucked,"
mused Mother Firefly. "We did it!"

"Yeah!," agreed Baby, supremely proud of herself. "Now I'm gonna kick Tiny's ass!"

"Hold it right there," ordered Jenny, hand tensing on the gun. "Don't move!"

Otis kept leaning to one side, trying to reach his trusty knife. Before she could warn him again or shoot,
Spaulding was up and on her, reaching for the cop's neck to throttle her.

The gun went off. Otis was leaping over the back of the front seat, clutching the blade point down for
stabbing.

"Aaaagh, fuck!," roared the clown, spraying crimson on the back floorboards. Hand scrabbling at the hole in
his thigh, his other big fist in self-defense flew out in a right-hook, cracking her lower jaw. Pain
blossomed all along the bottom of Jenny's face, but she managed to keep hold of the gun, squeezing off
another round at the screaming, long-haired figure suddon upon her. To her utmost surprise and horror
she missed at near point-blank range, the sun reflecting off the brandished knife. With her free hand she
made a grab for that hand, but he in his insanity was much stronger. He caught a bony knee in his gut
instead, the air rushing out of his lungs for several seconds.

"Motherfucker," swore the woman, unused to such ferocity.

She wrenched free and slipped over the the door of the car (the convertible top being down) and landing
in the dirt. In his rage Otis followed suit, the woman rolling out of his way just in time. She was seeing
stars and knew her face was swelling by the moment. Otis swung at her again and she backpedalled, then
took his wrist and swung it toward her and down, causing Otis to shear his own leg with the large blade.
Jenny sprang backwards again as the madman tore towards her, blood squirting from his wound
heedlessly. She fired again, missed, and thunked Otis in the back of the head with her weapon as he passed
her in his rush. She planted her foot in the small of his knee, sending him to his knees. Without turning to
look he swung out with a long, wiry arm in a steel-tipped arc. It narrowly missed her bare midriff, she
felt the air coming off the knife as it came round.
Another shot went off. Dark eyes big as saucers the vice cop staggered forward, clutching an oozing hole
in her side. Cutter slumped forward from the effort of standing and aiming, his terrible gunshot puncture
still leaking blood.

Jenny's gun fell out of her stiffening fingers as she joined Otis on her knees on the ground, gasping and
gurgling for air. Otis grunted in pleasure, getting to his feet and glaring down at her. He was about to slit
the bitch's throat when she pulled something from her pocket, raised it and a loud crack signalled. "Fuck!
You shot me in the arm!," Otis growled, completely surprised. Fortunately for him it was such a small
calibre it didn't do a lot of damage. But it was enough to cinch Jenny's fate.

"Give me that," he hisses, taking the tiny handgun from her. He then plowed his fist into her swelling face,
then again, and again, after so many hits she finally fell flat on her back. He ceased when her blackened
eyes rolled up into her head as she slipped into unconciousness.
Fear
Prologue

Some many nights passed since that one particular night. That night when he had tasted true
fear for the first time since his rising. He had felt vulnerable that night. Weak. But not this night. This
night he feels that power again. The strength. The anger. They were back. The bad ones. They had come
back to his lake and they needed to be punished. That is why he is here. To punish the bad ones. Mommy
said so. He stalks through the wooded camp, fog swirling around the imposing form. Ragged dark clothes
hanging loosely from, hm, hockey mask in place, and machete in hand. He could feel their lives, their
heartbeats, all around him, like rats infesting a house. The bad ones were everywhere. He stops, not far
from the camp proper, the kitchen being the closest building to him. He looks around, something strange
nagging at the back of his thoughts. They weren't fleeing.. that was it. They were coming closer. Not like
they were hunted.. like they were hunting! He tilted his head to one side, puzzled.. but not afraid. He could
see them now with their weapons drawn. Their weapons mean nothing. Bullets carry a sharp pain, but it is
a fleeting one, gone almost as soon as it arrives. He is still not afraid. Loud clicks echo around.. not like
gunfire he has heard many times before. Different. And it is not followed by that familiar shpainpain. He
looks down and sees the darks buried throughout his chest and shoulders. He feels them across his back as
well. Waves of dizziness wash over him. He takes a few more steps towards the ones closets to him. He can
hear their muttering back and forth to one another. They will be silent soon enough. He can locks eyes
with one of them now and can see the shock and terror in his eyes that he has seen in many eyes before.
Another round of loud clicks sounds out and more darts join the others buried in his flesh. He wants to
keep moving toward them. To punish them as he is supposed to. But the dizziness swirls around his vision
until all turns black. The hulking form wavers a moment, then pitches face forward onto the wet ground
as the group moves forward cautiously to secure the target.

Chapter I

Nicole Sherriden's POV

"Good Lord.. we've pumped enough tranqs into the guy to kill and elephant.. that can't be good.. "
The soft, female voice was filled with awe and touched with concern.
 "Yeah.. wicked cool, huh? You think the docs can really figure out how he does that?" The voice
replying is masculine with a confident, perhaps arrogant lilt to it.
The young woman turned her head to look up at her current partner. "Well.. probably. I just don't
see what the whole point is.. I guess.. I dunno.. I guess I just don't think it's right." She turned back to look
at the hulking form strapped and chained down to the gurney in the cell he was currently locked in.
Cell.. it was an iron cage within a steel cell with one wall formed of 3 layers bullet proof glass for
observation.
"Hmph! Don't go getting all more-righteous-than-thou on me, Sherriden. That thing in there is
just a walking slaughterhouse. It's not even a person.. it's a thing. A mass murdering *thing.* This is the
only right way to go about it. So can it."
"Fuck you, Clarke." Nicole Sherriden settled back in the office chair behind the observation desk.
She spent the rest of the shift sitting there staring at him on the table, thinking. He was not an 'it.' He
was a person. A person with a name: Jason Voorhees. She sighed and wondered who Jason Voorhees was.
Did he have parents? Did he have siblings? Friends? Anything that might contribute to a semblance of a
normal life? She pondered the few facts that their unit had been given. And that was only the barest of
details. Location: Site of the former Camp Crystal Lake. Description: 6' 3" 250 lbs with hockey mask and
dark clothes. And he's tough.. very tough. Was why they hadn't gone after him after the FBI's failed
attempt. Until they learned of another trick that had worked some months ago.. even if for only a short
while. I just needed to be maintained. He couldn't be killed.. or so they said. But he could be put to sleep.
Her thoughts turned back again to Jason Voorhees himself. Not the target.. the person. She just didn't
know enough about him and what brought him where he was now. "I will though.. "
"Whadja say, Sherriden?" Clarke looked up from his paper at her.
"Nothing Clarke.. nothing.. just thinking out loud." She never even shifted her gaze from the figure
on the gurney. When the monitor indicated the finest hint of movements indicating wakefulness she
pressed the buttons and more tranquilizers soothed him back to the realm of dreams.

Jason's POV

He didn't feel the hard ground jolting his bones with the force of his fall. He was already in
another realm. He was stalking quietly through his woods, hunting again. Hunting as always. They needed
to be punished. They were bad. There was the sound of giggling and a loud splash. He turned and made his
way down the familiar path alongside the water's edge towards the dock. Through the tree line he could
see them. They were always the same. Intoxicated boy already swimming in the dark water of the lake.
Big breasted girl, more concerned with impressing the boy than on the things she should be most
concerned with. They should have been watching the children. Horrible things could happen to the
children while they were down here with each other. The boy sank below the surface as the girl dropped
her clothes. She had barely stepped from the pool of cloth around her ankles when he moved forward.
Sensing his presence the girl turned quickly, her surprised cry cut short by a powerful hand around her
throat, dragging her into the tree line. He pulled the machete from the makeshift sheath at his waist and
plunged it into her belly repeatedly. The look of pain crossed her face for several seconds, blood bubbling
up and spilling over her lips as the life fades from her eyes. He could hear the boy calling for her now
from the lake. He dropped the body to the ground with a soft thud and turned his attention to the boy.
More splashing could be heard as the boy came out of the water, that almost fearful, but not quite yet
lookhis his face. He let the boy scramble into his clothing as he looked around, calling the girl's name. He
wondered to himself if they ever even owned swimsuits. Why did they always have to swim in his lake
naked? It was absurd to him and only reinforced his anger. The random thought, though, was pushed away
as the boy walked cautiously towards the girl's clothing, still piled on the ground. He followed the
scuffed ground from her feet dragging all the way to where her body was slumped on the ground in a
pool of dark blood. The boy knelt down beside her, trembling all over as he turned her over, whispering
her name, only to see surely what he already knew. Hearing the heavy footsteps of his approach, the boy
turned quickly, terror now across his face. He could feel the anger surging forward again. The boy was
bad. The boy was afraid because he knew he was bad and he knew he needed to be punished. He raised the
already bloody blade and swung swiftly, cutting through flesh and bone as though it were nothing more
than a slice of cake. The boy's body slumped down over the girl's as he pulled the blade back out again
with a slick sound. He turned then and began stalking his woods for another. There was always another.

Fear: chapter 2
: should've done this before, but here's the disclaimer.
Don't own Jason, Freddy, Lori, or Will, only wish I did.
Hope you guys enjoy.. it's not pretty.. :

Chapter 2

Nicole Sherriden's POV

Coming off of shift, Nicole changed into her civies and headed straight out from the complex to
town. She made her way to the library to begin some serious research on Jason Voorhees. He had to have
some public records, so she started there. She read through police reports working her way backwards
through time, finally coming up on something rather striking: an obituary. In a 1957 paper, there was an
article about the boys accidental drowning. She went back, reading about all the murders that had taken
place *after* the obituary appeared in the paper. Apntlyntly the original murders, starting back with the
deaths of the counselors responsible for the boy's death were perpetrated by his mother...Pamela
Voorhees. But she herself was killed in 1979 by another counselor when the camp was being reopened.. or
attempted to be reopened. The murders then continued on, supposedly at the hands of Jason Voorhees
himself.. but he was supposed to be dead. Another series of murders at the same location occurred in 1992,
but these were due to a copycat killer named Roy Burns. However, murders continue to occur in 1997.
Most of the killing sprees occurred at Crystal Lake near the town of Forest Green, but there was another
group of murders that were attributed to Jason Voorhees that apparently took place in Manhattan.. or
on a ship ride there. She had nearly overlooked it considering the location.. until she traced the origin of
the ship. Doesn't seem completely unlikely, but it was possible still that this was yet another copycat. It
was after that rampage that the FBI stepped in and went to Camp Crystal Lake with their pitiful
attempt at subduing him. .oO(hmmm.. .so how, then, did Jason Voorhees get from Manhattan back to the
lake.. perhaps that was another copycat? Or perhaps he was simply too weak to resume his murders
there.. maybe the guy just got homesick.. ) She sat back and pondered that thought. Could he get homesick?
That would require samouamount of emotion.. longing for home.. right? But that doesn't even come close
to the basic question.. if he died in 1957...how is he here now? It makes no sense. She continued to hack into
police reports .oO(god bless growing up a geek) and began compiling a list of names.. the survivors. Perhaps
she could track them down.. find out more information. After several hours she had her list.. and a
pitifully short list it was. And even amongst the short list there, only two had current addresses.
.oO(must've put quite a scare in them for all that.. )
She sighed and pushed away from the computer finally, muscles cramped and aching from sitting
all hunched over for so long. Not to mention the lack of sleep. "Bah.. sleep is for the weak! I think it's time
to take a little personal leave.. " She started typing again, sending an e-mail to the higher-ups. No way
was she going in to ask in person.. they'd just say no. That done, she headed back to the complex where her
unit was stationed. A bit of a work in sneaking aroubut but she made it in and back out again with a bag
packed for a few days trip. It was time to head out to Springwood to have a little chat with Lori and
Will.. the two survivors of the most recent spree of attacks. These had actually started in
Springwood.. the survivors had actually been the ones to bring Jason back to the lake. So how did he wind
up in Springwood in the first place? And why? .oO(so many questions.. need to find some answers.) She
climbed in the black ford explorer .oO(gotta love government issue!) One Big Gulp stop, the subsequent 4
bathroom stops, and a Slim Jim later, she was making her way into the city limits of Springwood. She
almost got lost trying to find the right address, until she figured out that the whole place was pretty
much laid out in a grid form.. a bit of searching after terrible directions from a store clerk and she pulled
up in front of the simple little brick house.. 1219 Hawthorn Street. .oO(they need to mow the grass, I do
think.. ) She knocked on the front door for about 10 minutes and turned to leave, thinking with
frustration she must have wrong place. Or maybe they just left...hard to tell with all the curtains drawn
around the place. She was down to the bottom of the steps again when she heard the door open behind
her. Turning back, she was faced with a haggard looking guy.. looked almost in his 30's with darkened eyes
and sunken cheeks. Couldn't be Will.. Will was supposed to be in his late teens..
"Oh.. I'm sorry.. I must have the wrong address here.. terribly sorry.. maybe you can help me
though.. I'm looking for a couple of kids.. or well, I guess they're only a little younger than me, but that's
really beside the point and I'm starting to ramble but anyway, they're names are Lori and Will.. I was
wanting to talk to them about some stuff."
"Look, we've told you people everything you need to know. Leave us in peace.. Christ.. can't you
just leave us in peace?!" He was about to turn and slam the door, but Nicole stuck a booted foot in the jam.
"Whoa.. back up...*you're* Will then? Whoever you think I am, I don't thin I'm them.. I just want to
talk. I'm not a reporter, I'm not FBI..." He looked at her warily, but didn't yet move so she continued on.
"Let's just say I have a personal.. intrigue in some information you might have.. "
Will looked at her confusion across his face. A thin girl, looking just as rough as the boy stepped
into view behind him. "Who's this..." She looks at Nicole with the same suspicion Will carried. "No more
reporters.. " This must be Lori.. guess they've had a rough couple months. Nicole just smile to her. "No
reporter here.. not fond of the media myself.. like I just told your boyfriend, I'm here just to talk."
Lori and Will exchanged a look, then back up to let Nicole in. She looked around the place.. it was
clean.. just dark.. and fairly sparse. Lori gestured to the couch so Nicole walked over and had a seat. Lori
sat down at the other end of the couch and Will in the recliner opposite them. .oO(No television.. wonder
why?) The couple shared another look between them before Lori spoke up. "You're not from here.. at least
I don't ever remember seeing you before. Who are you? And more to the point, what do you know about
Freddy?"
Nicole quirked a brow at the mention of that name.. it hadn't come up in any of her inquiries.
"Oh.. terribly sorry.. should've made introductions at the door.. I'm Nicole." She smiled to the two residents
of the place, but didn't get one in return. .oO(oookaaay.) "But anyway.. I'm not here about Freddy.. don't
know they guy.. I'm here about Jason Voorhees.. I understand he took a little trip through here.. and you
guys took him back.. home I guess you would call it. Was just curious if maybe you could give me some
information on the guy.. we've kinda got him in custody now.. but you know bosses...they never tell you
anything." She grinned at the couple again but Lori looked at her a bit puzzled and Will just looked
downright fearful. "What do you mean, you have him in custody? He's alive?" Lori's mind flashes back to
the memory of Jason's body sinking down under the water, eyes closing.
"Uhm.. yeah? Apparently.. we have him.. and he was walking around when we found him.. "
Will jumped up and looked at her. "Kill him.. you have to kill him. Or he'll kill you. All of you.. you
have to find a way to kill him.. or he'll just keep coming after you.. " Lori, for her part, didn't look so sure.
"Can I see him?"

Jason's POV

Still stalking.. hunting.. there are more bad ones out there. There always are. He winds his way
through forest that would easily have anyone else lost in 10 minutes time. But this was his forest. His
lake. And he had to keep the bad ones away. Still working his way through unseen paths, things began to
get slightly unfamiliar. Landmarks were out of place.. even the smell didn't seem quite ri No
No.. something was very not right. He looks around, through the hazy fog but the place seems to be
changing with ever turn of his head. This wasn't his woods.. this wasn't his lake. He heard a dark chuckle
that somehow sounded familiar to him and the forest just seemed to melt away leaving him standing in
the middle of a street. He recognized it though. He was just here.. not long ago. Where Mommy had sent
him.. no wait.. not Mommy.. Mommy hadn't wanted that. He'd been tricked. He heard children laughing in a
yard up ahead and walked towards the sound. The children.. someone should be watching the children.. he
was sure they weren't though. They were off being bad. And not paying attent He He stopped in front of a
shabby old house that used to be white when it was fully painted. In the yard there was a solitary little
girl jumping rope and singing. "Ooone, twooo, Freddy's coming for you! Threee, fourrr, better lock your
door! Fiiive, six, grab your crucifix!" She stopped off there and turned around, hearing Jason's approach.
Her face had no eyes.. just empty bloody holes staring out. "He's waiting for you." She points to the front
door left open an can can make out the outline of a man's figure. But the man doesn't stay there.. he turns
and moves further into the house. He looks back down at the little girl who is still pointing at the house
and moves on there with his steady heavy pace. Once inside, he looks in the direction the man
went.. feeling for the familiar force of life that everyone carries with them. It wasn't there. He thinks
this is strange but walks on in the direction he saw the man go. Turning down a hall, the dark chuckle he
had heard earlier resounds around and the door at the end of the hall slams shut. He walks down to that
door, feeling sure that the man was hiding in there. He would be punished for what happened to the little
girl. The man should have been watching her.. then she would be alright. Just as he was about to raise an
arm to knock the door down, it flew open revealing a dimly lit room. Unwary, he stepped inside, looking
around emptempty room. There was nothing but shadows playing on the wall.. but movement flickered in
the corner of his eye and he turned round and round trying to catch sight of it. To kill the man. Must kill
the man. A faint noise caught his attention and he turned to its source.. it was coming from the top of the
walls.. water.. pouring down like a water fall. He hated water. It was cold and heavy and terrible. The
sound seemed to get louder as more and more water rushed into the room. Then the laugh again. He
turned quickly to see the one he had been chasing.. recognizing him at once, with his burned flesh and
bladed hand.
"Did you think I'd forgotten about you, Jason? Did you think we were really done? We've only
just begun to play!!" The anger surged up as the man laughed again and he stepped forward, machete
raised. When he swung, though, the blade just ed ted through and the man disappeared only to rake those
blades on his fingers across his back. He turned quickly but the man was already gone again, propped in
another corner of the room, water pouring down around him. Jason stepped forward again, swinging the
machete, the movement cut short when the burned manght ght the blade and deflected it to one side,
with a kick to his ribs. He stepped backwards a few paces with the force of the blow. The man was
stronger than he appeared. It was only then that he realized that the water was building up.. it was
already knee deep in the room. And filling fast. The dream demon laughed darkly again, "Getting the
picture, pup? I may be cut off from my children.. but I still have you!" Jason leapt forward to attack again,
but the man was gone once more. The man was at his side stabbing cruelly with the bladed fingers. He was
finally able to get hold of him and tossed him across the room into a wall. Jason moved to go after him
again but when he took two steps he realized the wataistaist deep to him already. He had to get out.. the
room was full of water.. he had to get out. Instead of going after the burned one, he changed course and
began pounding on the door to break it down. It wouldn't even creak. Thatn't n't right.. it was only
wood.. it should have splintered and fallen apart. It was creeping up again.. past the anger.. past the
hatred. Fear. The laughter and the sound of falling water were all around. And he couldn't get out.. he
couldn't get out..
He was trembling all over as the water continued to rise. He dropped the machete using both
hands to pound futilely at the heavy wooden door. He heard the laughter over and over as the water
rose higher and higher finally over his head. And then it was all gone.. just wet clothes and floor that he
had crumpled down to, squatting with arms wrapped around his knees. And the clothes were far too big,
coming down over his hands and bunching around too large boots. The mask was still over his face but
seemed huge on him. A hand grabbed the back of his neck and picked him up off the ground, feet not even
touching the floor now. The man slammed him face first into the wall, and struck the mask off his head,
cutting the side of his face in the process. He was shaking all over still and that burned face too close to
him whispering in his ear. "Let's play, shall we, pup?"

TBC, if anyone thinks it's worth continuing..

Chapter 3
disclaimer again: don't own Jason, Freddy, W or or Lori.. just wish I did. Also, not making one red cent
from this. :-)

Readers: Sorry it's been so long for the update.. hopefully, I'll the next part up much sooner. Hoping moran
tan three of you are actually enjoying this. heheh!! so.. without further delay.. .

Chapter 3

Nicole's POV

Nicole sat for a moment, not sure if she really heard the girl say that. "You want to see him? Well.. I
don't know if that's possible.. I'll see what I can do for you if you really insist. I just don't know that
there will be anything I *can* do about it." She looked at the girl a moment, who nodded understandingly,
before continuing. "But first we need to talk about what I came here for in the first place. Jason
Voorhees. I need to know everything you know. You're the only ones I could find that could tell me
anything. I mean.. there's only a few that even survived meeting him, and addresses are even scarcer."
Will huffed at that, muttering under his breath that *that* was certainly understandable. Nicole glanced
over to him before moving on. "The point is though.. if he's that dangerous, I think I should know a little
bit more about him. I mean.. since I'm gonna be working with him and all.. I just think I should be.. I
dunno.. as prepared as I can get."

Will looked over at her, shaking his head. "He can't die. That's all you need to know. He *can't* die. My
suggestion: leave there! Stay as far away from him as you possibly can. Because if you stay around him.. he
will kill you. Just.. just stay away from him." Will's voice trembled slightly as he spoke, some deep fear
rattling around inside him.

"Look.. it's okay. We've got him well contained. He's not going anywhere. You don't have anything to be
afraid of there. Like I said before, I'm just curious about the guy. And you two were the only ones I could
get in touch with that actually dealt with him. You saw him, face to face.. and you lived to tell about it.
So tell me about it. I just wanna know who he is."

The couple exchanged confused glances before Lori spoke up. "Well.. to be perfectly honest, there's not
really too much we know about him. I mean, one night he showed up here and started killing people. Kids
in our class. Honestly, we didn't even know who he was at first. We thought he was Fr...some one else."
Nicole's eyes narrowed at the slip, but she didn't say anything, so Lori continued. "Anyway, once we got
all the pieces together, we figured the best thing to do was to get Jason back where he was supposed to
be.. then the two of them could face off. At least Jason would have had home field advantage, so to speak,
right? So that's what we did. And it worked.. we thought."
"By the two of them, you mean Jason and this Freddy character you mentioned earlier at the door,
right? Now I remember seeing something about a Freddy being involved in this in some of the reports, but
nothing substantial on him. Thought he was just another townie here. Who is he? And how does he fit in
with Jason?"

"The less you know about Freddy, the better. Believe me. It's for your own good if you don't know
anything more." Will's words still held that tremor of fear she'd heard just moments before. And he
sounded old.. too old for someone his age. But then, his voice just matched his face. These two must've
faced more shit over a few days time than people were meant to. She'd seen people who'd had brushes
with death before.. met with some horrible people herself. What these two seemed to have gone through
seemed different. And far worse. Something really bizarre must have happened here. .oO(Texas Chainsaw
Massacre kinda bizarre.) "Anyway, we thought it was all over.. we set up the fight.. pretty much set up
anyway, and Jason killed Freddy. Took a hell of a bea in in the process.. we thought he was dead too. I
watched him sink under the water after the fight. He should've been dead. So when you said he
wasn't. .well.. it was kind of a shock there.. still is, I guess. Must be tougher than we thought." Lori's face
looked thoughtful.. but no less haggard.

"Weird as hell, I say." Nicole was even more perplexed now, even with the tiniest bit of insight into the
big guy. "I mean.. when I started researching him out.. he's supposed to be dead. Like dead a way long time
ago...way before any of this. Way before the first set of killings in the late 70's. He drowned, or
supposedly drowned at like age 11. That was back in the 50's. There was an obituary and a little story on
it and everything. Even had his picture in the paper. Strange, huh?" She pondered these facts a few
moments before standing. "Well.. I supposed I've a bit more searching to do. You know.. you'd think with all
the killing he's done over the years and all the weird shit around it, there'd be more info out on it.
Almost seems like the world doesn't wanna know about him." She got a bit of a bemused expression,
wondering about that, but shrugged it off a moment later. She turned and made her way back to the front
door that she'd come in through, but was stopped by Lori's voice.

"We'll go with you."

Nicole turned back to the living room to see Lori standing there and Will staring at Lori like she'd just
grown a second head. "To find out more about him, I mean. We'll help you out." Nicole didn't even get a
chance to voice her protest before Lori was continuing on, cutting her off. "Look.. we're in this already.
We got in this way before you did. We thought it was over.. but since it isn't, we're obviously not done
with it yet."

"Lori!" Will broke in, dumbfounded at her suggestion. "Come on.. that's crazy! We're done with it! We're
done with HIM! I mean damn.. you sould like you're just wanting to sit down and have a drink with him
and talk about the troubled past!! Get real here! If you go near him, he'll kill you! Just like he did Gibb.
And Kia. You remember them right? You're friends? You remember he killed your friends???" He calmed
down a moment, and stood before her, holding her face in his hands. "We have to stay out of this. It isn't
our problem anymore. We're done. We made it away. Let's stay away." Lori, for her part, just stared at
him patiently. Some communication passed between their eyes, that Nicole was obviously out of the loop
from, and a resolution was made. "Fine.. we'll go. Just to see this ended once and for all. We'll go." Will's
voice didn't sound all that secure, despite his girlfriend's smile. After another thirty minutes of the
couple packing a few bags they were on their way.

Lori looked over at Nicole from the front passenger seat, while Will just sat in the back absorbed in his
own terrible thoughts. "So.. where exactly are we going?" Nicole smile over to her. "Road trip. Driving
down to Forest Green.. you know.. the town near Camp Crystal Lake. I've got the address for the house
Jason grew up in.. his mom's house. We're gonna go check out that place.. see if anything's left behind we
can use to find out about him." Lori nodded, and the rest of the drive was spent with Lori and Will in
thoughtful silence, Nicole appearing to be absorbed in the blaring music from the radio.

Jason's POV

Jason's small form trembled under the weight of the burned man's body, hot breath in his ear. "I
know some *real* fun games. Games we can play over and over again. For a *long* time. Oh yeah.. you're
gonna keep me entertained for a *LONG* time!" Fred Krueger's dark laughter reverberated around the
room and his weight shifted over Jason as he stood. Jason yelped a bit as a hard hand clamped down on
the back of his neck and he was hauled bodily from the floor into a chair. The burned man crouched
before him, tapping the razor fingers thoughtfully on his shoulder, deciding where to start. Jason stared
at him, scared and starting to pull back into his own mind the way he used to so long ago when Daddy
would go into rages. Just as Freddy raised the blades towards Jason's deformed face with a wicked smile,
Jason just disappeared. Freddy growled in frustration, but soothed himself with the knowledge that the
revenant would be back. Oh yes.. there were many games to be played.

Jason awoke, still strapped down to the gurney. He could hear giggling and laughter all around
him and could sense two others near him.. on either side of him. They're voices annoyed him and he
wished he could silence them and go home. Go home away from all of this.

"I dare you Maria!" The male voice said. "C'mon.. you were the one who said you were curious. I
dare you to find out!"

The female responded in laughter. "Okay okay.. Just keep an eye out and make sure none of the lab
creeps come in." She laughed again and moved closer to his gurney. Jason thought the foolish girl was
removing the restraints that kept him from jumping up and killing them both. He remained perfectly still
waiting to strike, but he didn't feel the bands all around him loosening up. She seemed to be fiddling with
something else. It wasn't until he felt the cool air from the room brushing his skin that he figured out
what the horrible girl was doing.

"Oh my god, Mike! He does!! Look!" The girl's laughing voice sounded amused. The guy was just as
amused and flashes of the children in school laughing at him flashed through Jason's mind. "I don't wanna
see his dick! He's really got one, though? Would've thought it would've rotted off or something.. " he said
with a laughing voice. The girl giggled even harder. "Hang on, hang on.. I gotta see if it works.. " Her warm
hand closing around Jason's cool soft member brought him out of his shocked stillness and he started
thrashing wildly trying to break free of the cursed restraints holding him down. He had no idea what
they were made of, but it must have been something extremely strong because he couldn't break free from
it. The two people who had been tormenting him cried out, not having expected any reaction from him,
much less one *that* violent.. after all the tranquilizer he'd been given, he should've been out for days.
After recovering from the initial shock, the girl struggled to get him covered again while the guy ted
feedfeeding more tranq through the iv lines, hoping none of them had gotten pulled out. That would be a
hell of a thing to explain to the doctors about how this happened. A few moments later, Jason slipped
back into deep slumber and the two guards composed themselves, chuckling again now that the danger
was over.
Chapter 4
Okay.. i know.. this has been a long time coming.. sorry.. hope it's worth the wait.. disclaimer as before.. don't
own 'em, only wish i did..

Nicole Sherriden's POV

"Honey.. we're hooome!!" Nicole's voice sang out as she stopped the black Explorer in front of the
shabby looking house. "Bet this was a decent looking place at one time. Shame." Lori nodded beside her
before looking back to her boyfriend. She smiled, seeing him sleeping apparently peacefully. She was about
to reach back to wake him before Nicole stopped her.

"Nah.. let him sleep. Looks like he needs it." Lori looked thoughtful a moment before nodding in agreement.
"Neither of us have slept well since.. the incident." Nicole shrugged to her. "Who could blame ya?" With
that, the two of them got out of the SUV and headed cautiously inside. There were several places that
felt like the floor wouldn't hold them and given the random holes in the floor they probably weren't far
from the truth on that thought.

Tread carefully, Lori. I'm gonna go upstairs and see what I can find there." She looked up the
stairwell and carefully made her way up creaking steps. She grinned own to the other girl. "With my
luck, I may just drop in on you.. " She continued her careful path from room to dusty room before coming
up on what must've been Pamela Voorhees's room. "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear this lady had a
major crush on her son.. " There were quite a few pictures of the boy from infancy to childhood. There was
one family picture on the nightstand. The buy guy with his face all scratched out with a marker must've
been Mr. Voorhees. .oO(Guess the split-up wasn't a particularly friendly one.) She rifled around the room
some more, but aside from the woman's fascination with her kid, Nicole didn't really find anything
majorly out of the ordinary. She moved on to another room, which was obviously a study or office of
some sort. .oO(Suppose with all the space in this house and only two people living in it, you have room for
these things.) She sat down carefully at the desk and started going through the papers scattered on top
and in the drawers. Most of the stuff was just mundane bills and the like. However, the bottom drawer
held some very interesting little facts. They were apparently medical bills and statements. Young Jason
Voorhees apparently wasn't a well child. From an early age, the earliest she saw was when the child was
32 months; he had been seen by quite a few doctors. As she looked closer, she could see that no one
diagnosis was ever decided upon and then the visits seemed to taper back down to normal childhood
pediatric visits by the time the child was 6 years old. The three things that seemed to come up the most
for a cause of the boy's condition was Autistic Disorder .oO(okay I know what that is), Rett's Disorder
.oO(okay I *don't* know what that is), and Asperger's Disorder .oO(what the hell is that?). She srote those
names down, thinking she should look into it some more. Could have something to do with what was going
on now. Looking around the desk again, she noticed another picture of the child. She recognized it as the
onethat was printed in the local paper when it covered the boy's death. She looked the boy over closely
in the photo for signs of disease or deformity. Nothing there to indicate anything on what the fellow
back at the facility looked like. Fair appearance, slender build.. nothing at all like the guy laying on that
gurney. Maybe they weren't the same. Maybe the man on the gurney who went by Jason Voorhees wasn't
really Jason Voorhees. ((just a note here folks, the description I'm going with as Jason's childhood
appearance is that of the kid that played Jason in the short clip at the end of the first movie, Ari
Lehman.))
The boy stared back at her from the picture with an expressionless face. Then it hit her. The eyes. The
color and the general look. It was the same flat look that had gazed out from behind that mask when
they had apprehended him. The man at the facility was indeed the same Jason Voorhees that was staring
out at her from the picture. But how? He died, right? Several times, right? "Makes no damn sense.. "

Downstairs, Lori was working through her own puzzles. She walked through the living and dining rooms
and the kitchen. Seemed like a normal enough household, if rather dilapidated over time. She made her
way down the hall, looking at the several pictureson the walls of a boy at various ages. None of them
seemed over tge oge of 10so, so, though. Strange.. he didn't look like Jason.. maybe he had a brother? But
then why weren't there any pictures of him.. not that he was the most.. picturesque child as she recalled.
The hall ended with two doors opposite each other. One was open and looking inside, she figured it
must've been the guest room. Standard bedroom set up, but no personal touches. She turned to open the
door to the room opposite but found it was locked. Slightly annoyed she was about to go in search of
Nicole when she though of something. She went back to the living room and looked it over again. Where
normal houses had a television with all the furniture facing it, this one had a table set up with a lot of
pictures of that boy again. She paused a moment glancing over the pictures of the boy. .oO(Strange
child.. doesn't smile in any of these. Come to think of it.. he hasn't smiled in any of the pictures all over
the house.) Shrugging, Lori opened the drawer on the table and sure enough, there was a key. As
suspected the key opened the door to a child's bedroom. Typical little oby's room despite the order and
lack of random clutter that one would normally find in a kid's room. On one wall was a picture of a
woman and the boy. Beside that picture was a piece of needle work. It was a name, but she couldn't
believe it. Jason. Then the boy was Jason Voorhees. She looked more closely at the boy in the picture. He
didnook ook like the boy from the dreamscape. He looked.. well.. normal. She couldn't see any sign of the
deformities she'd seen in the other Jason she remembered. Still wondering about that, Lori wandered
back to the foyer where she met with Nicole.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Nicole for her part grinned and shrugged. "I guess. Course I
didn't really know what I was looking for in the first place. Apparently he was diagnosed with some
strange disease or something as a kid. Maybe that explains why he turned out the way he did. Course he is
supposed to be dead. And with the mom's obvious obsession with him, if he didn't die, shouldn't there be
more pictures of him.. when he got older I mean? Hell, seems like she was snapping a camera at him all the
time up till he was about 10.. which corresponds with how old he was at the time of the drowning."

"Yeah, I noticed that. But I have to tell you something. Remember I said something when you showed up
at door about Fred Krueger?"

"That Freddy fellow, yeah. Thought you didn't wanna talk about him. Thought you said that was better
for me."

"And I still don't like getting other people involved. Hell.. the only way Springfield contained him was by
keeping people from knowing about him. He.. I don't really know how to say it without sounding crazy so I
guess I'll just say it and let you think I'm crazy." She hesitated a moment before continuing, not really
sure about what to say. "He.. he feeds off fear. Fred Kruiger gets in your mind and your dreams. When we
had our little adventure before, we drug him out.. right out of my dream. And we killed him. With Jason's
help, we killed him. But he could still be.. wherever he exists.. in our minds. We just don't talk about him.
To try and take away that power of his. That's why we didn't want to tell you.. "

"So.. that guy's out of the picture now.. you killed him.. however it is that you say you got to him, you
killed him. What's all this got to do with Jason Voorhees?"
"When we brought him here, or rather the campground, we had to keep him contained. We put him under
with a bunch of tranquilizers. A *LOT* of tranquilizers. So Jason was there with me.. in my dream.. when I
brought out Freddy. I saw Jason.. not as a grown Jason but as a kid Jason. And I've got to say, he didn't
look anything like this kid. Not really.. maybe the eyes...yeah, he had that same look in his eyes.
But.. well.. he was deformed.. real deformed. The brow, the jaw.. the whole right side of his face was all
messed up looking."

"You think maybe something else happened when he drowned in that lake? Maybe he didn't really die, just
got maimed or something? Still.. never heard of maiming by drowning before. And still doesn't account for
surviving everything else he's been through."

"No.. no I think it's something else. When I first saw him in the dream, all the other kids were picking on
him. Pushing him around and calling him names. They pushed him in the lake. I thought then that he was
sort of re-living what really happened. But maybe it's something else. Maybe he thinks of himself as a
freak or something.. "

Nicole stood there thinking on this for a long moment. "The doctors there at the facility are studying his
regenerative abilities.. that's really the biggest reason for keeping him there. Like he's some sort of lab
rat or something, I don't know. I don't really care for it, myself.. but that's just me. You think maybe when
he regenerates himself, he forms himself into that image with the deformities because like you said,
that's how he sees himself. Like his physical body somehow changed to mimic his mental self-image.. to
turn him into the big Frankenstein's Monster type thing that we have back in our lab?"

"I don't know.. I don't know.. " Lori shook her head a bit in confusion trying to piece together the few little
pieces they had. There just wasn't enough. And image of his eyes looking up at her as he sank into the lake
flashed in her mind. "We're not going to find out anything more here, though. So how about it? Will you
let me see him now?"

"Like I said before.. I'll see what I can do."

Jason's PoV

The next thing he was aware of was his surroundings. He was back in that house again. And he
was outraged. That woman!! That filthy, disgusting woman had dared touch him.. touch him.. *there*!! No
one should touch him there! He'd rend her limb from limb when he found her again! He heard a laugh
behind him and turned quickly to face it's source. The terrible burned man stood before him, leaning
against the wall.

"Come to play some more, pup? So glad you decided to come back home. We're going to have such
fun.. " Krueger chuckled again.
 All his rage surged up to the surface and he had a target right there before him. The nasty
woman may not be here, but this creature was.. and he was just as horrible. With a snap of the arm he
tossed his machete forward where it slammed to the hilt in the man's chest. Krueger looked down at the
weapon in his chest and looked back up at Jason with a smirk before grabbing the hilt, slowly pulling the
blade out and dropping it to the floor. He watched as Krueger dropped the weapon, tilting his head to one
side puzzled.. usually that was enough to kill.. not this time. Then, faster than he'd ever seen a man move,
the burned one leaped forward, throwing his weight against him. Jason fell back to the floor with Kruger
on his chest slashing away at his body with those razor claws. When he finally got a good grip on him a
strange feeling hit him. He looked to the side and realized he was sinking. Sinking right into the floor as
though it was soft earth! Kruiger laughed some more and pressed down on his chest, pushing him further
into the floor. He released his firm hold on the burnt flesh to try and grab some leverage around him, but
to no avail. A moment later he was through the floor completely and falling fast, Krueger no where in
sight. The fall only last a few seconds before he struck cold, deep water below. He flailed his arms and
legs around, searching frantically for something to grab onto. All he could see around him was darkness
and he couldn't keep his head above the chill water. It was so cold. Then something grabbed his leg right
about the shin and yanked down hard. He was pulled farther and farther under and it was so dark and
cold and suffocating. He stopped his flailing movements as terrible fear filled his chest where outrage
had been only moments before. He felt alone and helpless and he hated that. The next thing he knew he
was back in that hall where he had been knocked down. Krueger knelt down over his small form seemingly
towering over him. He could hear Krueger talking above him, but he was pulled too far into himself now
to really make out his words.

Fred Krueger knelt over the trembling form of the boy with an evil grin. He smoothed his un-
clawed hand up the boy's chest and pulled the mask off. Snorting down at the disfigured face presented to
him, he tilting the boys chin around so that he could more closely examine his little prize. His original
impression was certainly right.. this was a face only a mother could love. Fat was right to have drowned
the little shit so long ago. Now little Jason Voorhees was his little toy to play with. And oh what fun he
would have!

Jason lay there staring out at nothing really. The oversized clothes were cold and wet and
oppressive. "Let's see what other little secrets you've got hiding away in that ugly little head of yours.. "
Jason screamed as one razor finger was pressed to his temple and began pushing its way into his skull.
Memories long buried began playing out before his eyes and he couldn't stop them. He didn't like it. He
didn't like *them*! Images of the other children in his school calling him names and throwing random
objects at him played out. He'd never paid them any heed. Never shown that he understood what they
were doing. He just couldn't. He'd tried a few times, but just was never able. So it never stopped. Unless
Mommy was around. Mommy always took care of him. She always kept him safe. An image of Mommy
being murdered by that horrible girl flashed next. He wanted this to end. He didn't like seeing these
things. So many images were flashing in front of him that they seemed to blend into one another. Then
they all faded back again to the hall and the burned man on his chest chuckling darkly. HE screamed
again as those razor fingers raked down his chest. Moments later he faded out from under Krueger, only
to reappear elsewhere in the house a short time later. Time passed on and the tortures blended into one
another. The dream demon delighted in every cut, every gasp, every little sign he could get that showed
Jason's pain and suffering.

The lab personnel never noticed the additional blood seeping through filthy fabric, staining his
clothes further. They never noticed the deep gouges forming over his body under those clothes and that
mask.

Will's POV
 Will stood there facing that house. That old ragged house on Elm Street. And through the
window he could see him. A cold sweat broke out all over him. NO.. it couldn't be! Nonononononono!! With
a start he sat up wide awake in the back seat of the Explorer. He barely had time to wipe the sweat from
his face before Lori and that little crazy girl who had drug them back here were climbing back in.

Chapter 5
ok folks.. here's the next chapter.. sorry it's been so long since my last posting, real world's been keeping me
rather busy. forgive all the typos and errors, they're all mine, but i hope you enjoy it despite them!

Chapter 5

Nicole's POV

The drive back to the facility was long and boring. Trees, trees, fields with cows and sheep, and
oh, look there, more trees! Despite how nervous and jumpy Will had seemed when she and Lori had gotten
back to the car, he seems to have calmed down well enough to have dozed back off again. But then these
two were some tired little puppies.. even Lori herself seemed to be nodding off and she was the one who
seemed most excited at the prospect of seeing Jason Voorhees. Ah well.. they need their rest. Hell, for
that matter, she needed her rest, but she figured she'd be able to get plenty when she got back to the
facility. She didn't have to be on duty again until tomorrow at 1900 hours, so there was plenty ime ime
left. The drive should only take another 3 hours, yeah, there was plenty of time for her to sleep. .oO(Okay,
stop thinking about sleeping, it's only making you more tired. Think about.. about.. the Korn concert.
Yeah.. that kicked ass.) She heard a whimper coming from the back seat and turned to see Will thrashing
his head from side to side restlessly. .oO(great.. nightmare.. shoulda known he'd be the nightmare type. If
he doesn't stop he's gonna wake up Lori too.. ) A moment later the thrashing and whimpering was a moot
point as the guy let out a terrifying scream. Lori bolted upright, turning quickly to Will in the backseat
with wide, scared eyes. Nicole slammed on the brakes and screeched to a halt on the side of the road to
get Mr. Sunshine calmed down so she could drive in peace again.

Will's POV

He was running down Lori's street in the dark, the pavement was wet like it had just rained and
shadows were playing everywhere around. But he knew it wasn't a shadow that was following him. He
knew it. It was him. It was Freddy! He heard that laughter that he knew so well echoing all around. He
couldn't tell where it was coming from anymore. This was all wrong. He was supposed to be dead. Lori
killed him, he saw it. He ducked down a side street and into an empty house, closing and locking the door.
But when he turned around, he realized this was no house.. it looked like some sort of factory or
something.. all sorts of pipes and steam everywhere. Oh shit.. the boiler room.. w here Freddy used to take
those kids.. no way.. couldn't be.. couldn't be. He heard that laughter again and turned back around to leave
again but there wasn't a door there anymore. He broke off at another run down a corridor, ripping down
sheets of plastic that blocked his path. He thought he'd put some good distance between himself and the
pedophilic maniac until he tripped over an old toolbox sitting there in the hall, ever so innocently. He
flipped over onto his back hearing footsteps just behind him now, only to see the burned creature pounce
and straddle his waist. "Well, well, well.. looks like one of my children came home to me.. tsktsk.. bad boy
for staying away so long.. bad! Now come get your spanking.. daddy loves you!" With an evil chuckle, he
raised the razor-tipped fingers of one hand and started slicing with glee, laughing ever louder at Will's
increasing screams. When the young man stilled finally Freddy sat back and savored the feeling of
having felt the flesh of one of his own children parting under his fingers. What a sweet, sweet treasure
that had been.

Nicole's POV

Lori screamed when she saw the bloody streaks starting to appear across Will's arms, face, and
chest, knowing instantly the cause. She dove into the backseat, frantically slapping and pounding on him
to wake him up. Nicole sat stunned.. she'd never seen anything like that before in all of her life. It was
just unreal. Those wounds were just appearing. No one else was in the car and the guy certainly wasn't
doing it himself.

"Will!! WILL!! You have to wake up! You have to wake up, now!! He's getting to you, Will, you can't let him
get to you!! We can be him again! We can kill him! You have to wake up, though!!" Lori's voice fell into sobs
as she stopped her frantic motions to cradle the now lifeless body of her first love, the boy who had seen
her through the terrible things her life had thrown at her. And now he was gone. Freddy had taken away
yet another loved one. And he would pay for it. She would make him pay for it. "Did you think this would
make me afraid? Did you think this would make me fear you!? It didn't work! I'm not afraid! I'm angry!! I'M
ANGRY!! " She screamed it out through her tears at no one in particular.

Nicole watched thou guys. That was a pretty smart move."

"You don't understand. Freddy knows him. He's still out there.. he'll get to Jason. He was in Jason's dreams
before. If Jason can't pull him into the real world and kill him, Freddy will kill Jason. Hekillkill him.
Jason barely survived fighting him in the real world.. I had thought he hadn't survived at all until you
showed up and told me otherwise. Jason doesn't stand a chance in the dream-world. Freddy.. Freddy's like
a god there or something.. "

"Well, he seemed alright when I left.. "

"And Will and I had been alright until just now."

Nikki looked over at Lori with a stunned expression. .oO(Great.. so granting all this is real shit.. and I'm
not going crazy.. then not only are we using him as a big ass lab rat in the real world with all our poking
and prodding, but we've set him up to be tortured by some crazy psychic guy, too? Well aren't we just the
knights in shining armor for mankind.. ). "Well then.. we won't know 'till we get there will we.. " She
reached over and patted Lori on the arm in an attempt to comfort her, not feeling the least bit sure of
anything at the moment. She turned her attention back on the road, driving as quickly as possible
without drawing undo attention to them from the cops.

Some few hours later and no more odd occurrences, she was pulling into the facility parking deck. A bit
of sneaky maneuvering and quick talking with some other guards and she had Lori tucked away safely in
her quarters. She hadn't been in the room 5 minutes and barely had Lori changed into fresh clothes that
were just a little too tight across the chest, because hey, not everyone can be a double-D, before the
intercom began buzzing. She sighed and answered, more than a little bit of irritation seeping into her
voice. "Yeah, what?"

"Where the hell have you been Sherriden? I've been trying to get in touch with you all day."

"Nunya, Clarke. What do you need?"

"Yeah, well, you're lucky I've been covering your ass all day, so you could be a little less bitchy."

"Whatever.. what you need?"

"The CO changed some scheduling around. We're on duty tonight. 1700 hours. And don't be late this time.
You're always friggin' late."

Nikki glanced over at the clock on the bedside table reading 1650. "Shit. Yeah, I'll be there." She glanced
over at Lori and a farfetched idea struck her. She hoped she didn't run into their CO, or she'd never pull
it off.. but if it was just her and Clarke.. "Hey, Clarke, who're we relieving?"

"Uhm.. lemme see.. Mike and Maria were on today."

Nikki rolled her eyes at the mention of their names. Oh yeah.. she could pull this off with these morons.
Long as it was just them. Sure, not likely forever, but at least for tonight.. maybe up to a week. The worst
that would happen would be getting some demerits and some sort of punishment.. probably scrubbing the
toilets with a toothbrush again. "Alright then. I'll be there. And I'll be on time."

"See ya, babe."

"Call me babe again and I'll rip your tongue out!"

She got no answer from that so she moved around the room, collecting some clean clothes. "Okay, Lori,
here's the deal.. I'm gonna put you in one of my uniforms and I'm gonna sneak you onto guard duty with
me and Clarke tonight. I'll tell him and the folks we're relieving that you're a new recruit or something.
I'm sure they'll buy it. They've never been mistaken for the brightest bulbs in the batch. Just sit tight, I'm
gonna grab a quick shower and I'll be right back. With that she ducked into the tiny bathroom, leaving
her 'guest' sitting in a hard chair in the main room. She couldn't have been in the bathroom more than 10
minutes, but by the time she stepped back out, Lori was leaned back in the chair, sleeping.
Lori's POV

Lori stood in the street staring at the house. A cold sweat broke out over her body as she
recognized it. It was her old house. Where Freddy had killed her mother. And her friends. As she stared
the front door drifted open and she felt compelled to enter. She couldn't let him win.ou guys. That was a
pretty smart move."

"You don't understand. Freddy knows him. He's still out there.. he'll get to Jason. He was in Jason's dreams
before. If Jason can't pull him into the real world and kill him, Freddy will kill Jason. He'll kill him.
Jason barely survived fighting him in the real world.. I had thought he hadn't survived at all until you
showed up and told me otherwise. Jason doesn't stand a chance in the dream-world. Freddy.. Freddy's like
a god there or something.. "

"Well, he seemed alright when I left.. "

"And Will and I had been alright until juow."ow."

Nikki looked over at Lori with a stunned expression. .oO(Great.. so granting all this is real shit.. and I'm
not going crazy.. then not only are we using him as a big ass lab rat in the real world with all our poking
and prodding, but we've set him up to be tortured by some crazy psychic guy, too? Well aren't we just the
knights in shining armor for mankind.. ). "Well then.. we won't know 'till we get there will we.. " She
reached over and patted Lori on the arm in an attempt to comfort her, not feeling the least bit sure of
anything at the moment. She turned her attention back on the road, driving as quickly as possible
without drawing undo attention to them from the cops.

Some few hours later and no more odd occurrences, she was pulling into the facility parking deck. A bit
of sneaky maneuvering and quick talking with some other guards and she had Lori tucked away safely in
her quarters. She hadn't been in the room 5 minutes and barely had Lori changed into fresh clothes that
were just a little too tight across the chest, because hey, not everyone can be a double-D, before the
intercom began buzzing. She sighed and answered, more than a little bit of irritation seeping into her
voice. "Yeah, what?"

"Where the hell have you been Sherriden? I've been trying to get in touch with you all day."

"Nunya, Clarke. What do you need?"

"Yeah, well, you're lucky I've been covering your ass all day you you could be a little less bitchy."

"Whatever.. what you need?"

"The CO changed some scheduling around. We're on duty tonight. 1700 hours. And don't be late this time.
You're always friggin' late."

Nikki glanced over at the clock on the bedside table reading 1650. "Shit. Yeah, I'll be there." She glanced
over at Lori and a farfetched idea struck her. She hoped she didn't run into their CO, or she'd never pull
it off.. but if it was just her and Clarke.. "Hey, Clarke, who're we relieving?"

"Uhm.. lemme see.. Mike and Maria were on today."

Nikki rolled her eyes at the mention of their names. Oh yeah.. she could pull this off with these morons.
Long as it was just them. Sure, not likely forever, but at least for tonight.. maybe up to a week. The worst
that would happen would be getting some demerits and some sort of punishment.. probably scrubbing the
toilets with a toothbrush again. "Alright then. I'll be there. And I'll be on time."

"See ya, babe."

"Call me babe again and I'll rip your tongue out!"

She got no answer from that so she moved around the room, collecting some clean clothes. "Okay, Lori,
here's the deal.. I'm gonna put you in one of my uniforms and I'm gonna sneak you onto guard duty with
me and Clarke tonight. I'll tell him and the folks we're relieving that you're a new recruit or something.
I'm sure 'll 'll buy it. They've never been mistaken for the brightest bulbs in the batch. Just sit tight, I'm
gonna grab a quick shower and I'll be right back. With that she ducked into the tiny bathroom, leaving
her 'guest' sitting in a hard chair in the main room. She couldn't have been in the bathroom more than 10
minutes, but by the time she stepped back out, Lori was leaned back in the chair, sleeping.

Lori's POV

Lori stood in the street staring at the house. A cold sweat broke out over her body as she
recognized it. It was her old house. Where Freddy had killed her mother. And her friends. As she stared
the front door drifted open and she felt compelled to enter. She couldn't let him win. She couldn't let him
win. She chanted that in her mind over and over again, like some sort of mantra. As she stepped in the
door a movement to her left caught her eye. There was a boy sitting in a chair there, rocking back and
forth, arms wrapped around his chest. She moved over to him and knelt down in front of him, eyes
widening in shock as she recognized him. "Jason.. " The sound of steel scraping over glass behind her made
her jump and turn quickly and there was Freddy, evil grin on his horrid face, sliding those razor fingers
along the glass coffee table. "Welcome home sweet, sweet Lori.. " A hand clamped on her arm and shook
her hard and she startled awake with a frightened gasp.

"Hey.. hey it's alright girl.. just me.. Nikki.. you remember me.. "
 Lori sighed in relief and shook her head at Nikki's worried expression. "He has him. Freddy has
Jason. I know it."

Chapter 6
: Okay folks, here's another chapter. I know it's been a LONG time, and I apologize.. but you know how the
real world can be. Hopefully, I can get the next one up sooner. Anyway, same disclaimer applies: Freddy,
Jason, Lori, and Will aren't mine and I'm not making any money from them. The typos and spelling errors
are mine though, so I'll take full credit for them! ;-) Feel free to respond folks, compliments or criticism.
Hope you enjoy! :
Chapter 6

Nikki's POV
At 1708, Nikki stepped into the smalficefice that looked directly into the laboratory holding
Subject 6: Jason Voorhees, Lori in tow.
"Sherriden, how is it you are *always* late? How can one person be late for *everything*?"
Michael Grayson's sneering voice was enough to start her usual headache every time she had to deal
with him. Snide little prick still had some childhood fantasy of growing up to be Captain America or some
shit.
.oO(Tough shit, Grayson, Cap has morals!) "I'm not late for everything, Grayson, just those things where
you're involved. The least amount of time I have to see you, the better, as far as I'm concerned. So just
give report and for god's sake, keep it short."
"You need to get laid, Sherriden.. maybe then you'd be just a tad more.. socially inclined."
Nikki looked over at the new speaker in the conversation. "Oh, I'm not so worried about that, Perez...you
fuck enough people for the both of us. Hell for the whole damned crew, for that matter. Now, one of you
leptics wanna give report?" She glanced over at her security partner, Daniel Clarke, who was currently
sitting back, snickering at the regular banter.
Maria Perez, glanced over to the other girl who had come in with Sherriden, while Mike gave his report
of really nothing to report. "Who's this, Sherriden? Don't tell me, they're letting *you* train the newbies?
Really, the world can't handle another bitch of your like."
"The world needs more bitches of my like, and I think I make a pretty damn good mold for them. As for
this one, this is Laura Miller. She hopes to become every bit the bitch I am. Personally, I think she
probably has me beat already, so I'd steer clear." With that, she turned her back on the other two guards
and stepped over to where Lori was standing, staring into the cell that held Jason Voorhees. She could
hear her partner making idle conversation with Grayson and Perez, but didn't bother listening in. Usually
wasn't worth it with that crowd, though Clarke wasn't all that bad all the time. He had his moments
where he used that half of his brain that wasn't focused on things less professional. She leaned over and
whispered softly to Lori. "See.. safe and sound.. told ya.. "

Lori's POV
"Sure.. safe and sound.. " The images from her nightmare still flashed in her mind's eye before her.
She new for certain that Jason was neither safe nor sound. She kept watching his massive form, so still
on that gurney while Nikki went back over and sat at the desk with her partner. She vaguely heard
questions aimed at her but kept her answers limited to head nods or just agreeing with whatever Nikki
threw out there.
"Guess he is pretty interesting that first time you see him. It's almost time for his next dose, I'm
sure Sherriden here would be more than happy to show you where we keep the stuff. Usually the lab
creeps take care of anything medical like, but the facility is keeping him pretty secure.. only 6 of them
total ever get to do anything with him, so we're the one's who keep him sedated. Makes sense, sorta, I
guess.. it being a security measure and all that.. " He blathered on a bit more about the job and how the
really interesting stuff happened only about once, or if they were lucky, twice a year before Nikki
steered her in through the locking mechanisms on the cell and led her inside. The smaller girl showed
her where they kept the tranqs in a cabinet on one side of the room and hung the bag on the IV pole, and
hooked up the lines, so a steady dose was delivered to Jason.
"Where's his mask?"
Nikki stopped mid-sentence with a slightly puzzled look. "His mask? Oh! You mean the old hockey
mask thing he wore when we brought him in.. Yeah, I guess that was a staple of his.. though you know in
the earliest reports I read of him, the survivor described him as wearing some sort of burlap sack thing
over his face.. guess the boy in him deciding the old hockey mask looked cooler or something.. anyway, I'm
not sure where it is.. the docs took it off him when they first started working on him. I guess it's around
here somewhere.. ."
There task being done, the two girls left the cell, locking everything securely as they went and
moved back to the desk. Clarke was sitting back with his feet propped up reading the latest edition of
Guns and Ammo or something like that, glancing occasionally at Lori who sat in her chair, just staring at
Jason's form in the cell. She wondered how they were going to get him out of there, past all these guards.
She just couldn't think of any way that she and Nikki could manage to do that alone. He couldn't stay
here.. he'd saved her life.. she never could have taken on Freddy without him. She couldn't just leave him
here now, to be experimented on by these people like some lab rats.. not to mention what he must be going
through at Freddy's hands. The rest of the 14 hour shift passed much like that. A lot of sitting and
hanging a new back of tranquilizer every 4 hours to ensure that Jason didn't awaken more than a little.
Nikki informed her that when they first started this some days ago that he only needed it every 6 hours
before he'd show signs of waking.
At the end of the shift, Clarke gave the report to the two guards coming on duty. Several people in lab
coats were coming in with various bits of equipment to run more tests on him. .oO(It'll be alright
Jason.. we're gonna get you out of here somehow.. don't you worry.. we'll get you out.) She walked with
Nikki back to the small quarters, moving quickly and dodging any questions asked. Once safe behind the
steel door she sat in the chair looking at Nikki. "So what's the plan?"

Nikki's POV
"Plan? Plan for what?" Nikki looked up at Lori from where she sat, taking off her boots. She took
one look at Lori's face and new exacthat hat kind of plan the other girl had in mind. "No way.. absolutely
no way." Lori opened her mouth to speak but was cut off before she could even begin to form any words.
"Hey, I said I'd try and get you in to see him. You've seen him. That's all I promised. Now.. we're gonna get
a bit of sleep this morning, then I've gotta find a way to get you off the facility grounds."
"But Freddy.. we can't just leave him here like this for Freddy! Without being able to fight back
in the real world, Jason can't defend himself."
"Hey, I feel you there.. but we don't know that Freddy is even bothering with Jason. Seems to me,
you'd be the next target.. so maybe we need to be looking for how to help you out, rather than Jason. I
mean, come on.. you seem to be forgetting that Jason's not just some tormented kid, he's a mass murderer."
"But he is being tormented. Freddy has him.. I saw it.. I saw it in the dream.. I *told* you I saw it!!"
"You told me you saw him in one little dream. One little dream that could very well be brought
on by all this research and thought we've been putting into him. You're on edge. Hell we're both a bit on
edge. It's understandable.. but I don't think that Jason's in that much danger here. I mean, surely our lab
creeps would've noticed something going on if he were being hurt. Earlier, when your boy got...what I
mean is, if Jason were being attacked like that, we'd see wounds. Right?"
"Yeah.. but you said yourself he's got some kind of regenerative power...how would you know he
was being hurt, if the wounds heal up as quickly as you think they heal? Unless you watched them occur.
Will told me, that when they were driving him out to the lake, while Jason was still under, he started
drowning or something. Like water just started coming up out of his mouth and stuff. What if something
like that were happening now and just no one's noticing?"
Nikki pinched the bridge of her nose at the oncoming headache she could feel. "Look.. let's just
sleep on this a bit.. okay? I just.. I need some rest.. and we'll go from there." .oO(Oh my god, Nicole, you are
not thinking about it! We are not taking that guy out of this facility! We're not doing it!) She lay back on
the bed, closing her eyes. As Lori began to voice a protest, she cut her off. "Later! We'll talk about it some
more later.. "

Lori's POV
Lori leaned back in the chair, looking over at Nikki's small frame lying back on the bed. She knew
the other girl didn't really believe her. Hell, she didn't believe herself half the time. How could she?
Things like this just didn't happen.. they just didn't happen. With those thoughts, the exhaustion of the
past couple days overtook her, and she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Freddy's POV
Freddy sat crouched in front of his barely responsive boy, chuckling to himself. Yes.. his boy
hardly made a sound most of the time...but when he did, rouse, the screams that tumbled out of him were
delicious. His boy was certainly a treat to make these times of forgetfulness almost bearable. Almost. He
was instantly aware of the presence of another. Oh what fun to be had.. his children were coming back to
him! He moved himself to look out and survey his domain and there she was, just as pretty as he
remembered.
Lori stood in the street, looking around fearfully. He could taste that fear and it was divine. He cast
himself to the shadows watching her from all sides as she made her way down the dark streets. And just
as he was about to show himself and revel in her greater terror of him, another presence was made
known to him. One he had never felt before. He cast himself towards that presence and found her
standing there in his foyer, right in front of his boy. She was a frail looking thing with pale skin, dark
hair, and big blue eyes. Such a lovely little thing to be torn all apart. She wasn't one of his children, but it
didn't really matter. She would be one of his now. He formed himself far beyond her, making the room
seem longer than normal and began a slow walk towards, raking his long razored claws along the wall as
he went. At the sound, the girl turned her head sharply and watched him come toward her. But
something was a bit.. strange. Something wasn't right with her. At her narrow eyed gaze, he realized what
that something was. She didn't fear him. Well.. that could be changed.. it only took a little time after all.
He chuckled softly and blinked away, only to have Lori come walking into the foyer. Lori would spread
the fear for him. Such a sweet, sweet girl.. it was going to be such a joy when he felt her flesh part
beneath him.
Lori looked over at Nikki with wide eyes. "He's gotten to you too, somehow.. oh shit.. this is my
fault...never should've told you, never should've told you.. oh Nikki, I'm so sorry.. "
"Hey.. hey, this isn't real, Lori.. none of this is real. I'm not talking to Lori, I'm talking to an image of Lori
in my mind. And this isn't little Jason.. just my mind's portrait of him in this chair here.. none of it's
real.. "
Freddy chuckled softly, forming himself in the room not far from the other three. Lori gasped and put
herself between himself and his boy. What a futile act. Nikki, for her part, just stood right where she'd
been standing all along, looking at him with a quirked brow. Still no fear from her. "Oh but it is real, my
dear Nikki.. it is. He approached her slowly, looking her over with a lewd expression. "But you'll find that
out soon enough.. " The girl tilted her head to one side and as quick as the blink of an eye, pulled a gun
from a holster tucked in the back of her pants and fired three rounds rapidly into his forehead. She had
moved so quickly he hadn't even had time to alter her own actions to suit his ends, he just dropped to the
floor with a shocked expression. She was turned back to Lori already with a shrug before he could
recover and jump back to his feet. "Precocious brat!!" How dare she! The girl turned back to him with a
surprised look and pointed the weapon back to fire again. This time he was better prepared and just
laughed as the water from the toy splashed his face just where the wounds from the previous shots
should have been. "Oh you think you are in control here, girl? This is my realm, you're in. I am the lord
and master here." Nikki looked down at the useless toy and dropped it, opting instead for a quick side kick
to the gut. Lori was shaking Jason, telling him he had to wake up. He had to push past all those drugs and
wake up. The burned guy she'd already shot just grunted with the kick and swiped out with the razor
gloved hand. She blocked that move easily enough, but still was left with four symmetrical cuts on her
left arm. The sharp pain of it brought her wide awake in an instant and she blinked out of Freddy's sight.
He snarled and looked over sharply at Lori and looked back at him terrified, still putting herself between
him and his boy. He was about to run his claws down the front of her neat white shirt when she, too,
blinked out right in front of him, leaving him alone with Jason, who for his part sat in the chair still,
rocking silently back and forth as though the girls had never even been there.

Nikki's POV
Nikki sat upright in the bed, looking down at the bright red blood dripping down her arm onto
the covers. She looked over sharply at Lori still asleep and jumped up grabbing her by the shoulders and
shaking hard, pulling her up out of the chair. Lori awoke with a gasp and the two girls stood there a
moment blinking at each other.
"Okay, Lori, so you were right, you're not crazy, and that Freddy guy's a real menace.. so.. I guess
we need a plan now.. I still don't think it should involve letting Jason roam free again."
"So we just leave him there to be tortured by Freddy for however long either of them might
exist? That's just not acceptable!! You saw him! He's just a kid! Inside, he's just a kid!"
"Maybe.. a kid that's killed more people than Ted Bundy! Look, we just can't let him go and that's
that. But maybe there's another way. You said you had to bring Freddy into this world to kill him right?"
"That's right.. "
"So you took him out of the dream world and into the real world.. "
"What are you getting at?" Lori blinked at the smaller girl a moment, confused.
"I say we bring him here and well.. keep him here. Don't kill him this time...just.. keep him here in
the real world, so he can't hurt anyone."
"What do you mean, can't hurt anyone.. there was a reason why he was killed in the first place!
He's dangerous wherever he is! We just have to find another way of killing him so he doesn't come back!!"
"I'm not saying he *can't* be dangerous here.. I'm saying he's less dangerous here and therefore
more easily contained here.. he bring him here.. lock him up somewhere and keep his freakish ass alive and
out of wherever it is that he resides in peoples minds. I'm sure the facility can handle him."
"Like you're handling Jason.. as if he's some lab rat."
"Hey I don't like that either.. but liking it has nothing to do with the fact that there really
aren't any alternatives."
"How would you know? Have you looked? Two days ago you didn't know anything about him at all.
How could you possibly know if there are alternatives? How could you know??"
Nikki's bravado that seemed to have been with her all along seemed to deflate with that. "Why
are we are arguing with each other. We're on the same side here. We can't fight each other right now."
 Lori sighed softly looking at her, "yeah.. I know.. it's just.. it's just too much, you know.. we were
only just starting to get past it all.. I'm starting to think that getting past this is never going to happen."
She sat down hard as she tried to bite back a sob. Nikki crouched down quickly in front f her and
grabbed her by the arms shaking her again. "Hey! None of that now! You can't break on me right here!
We've gotta take care of this. I can't do it alone, and I sure as hell can't trust any of these people with
this. So stay with me, here." Lori looked up at her and nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes.
Nikki sighed again and thought a moment. "I'm gonna go crash the med lab, see if I can't find some
of the super speed crap they give us when they send us on long ass missions with no sleep. Should keep us
awake plenty long enough to come up with whatever plan we're gonna come up with. Just stay put." With
that she got up and headed out of her quarters down the hall leaving Lori to her own thoughts.
"Sure thing, Nikki.. I'll help you out.. but we are not leaving Jason in this place.. " The words were
muttered to herself in the empty Spartan room.

Jason's POV
She was here again.. he saw her. That girl. He remembered from before.. trying to pull him from
the lake. He'd thought at first she was going to be like all the others and just let him drown. He'd thought
she was bad. But she'd reached in and tried to help him. She'd tried to pull him out of the cold water. And
just now she'd done it again. She'd tried to keep the burned demon-man away from him. It was with these
thoughts that Jason tried to keep himself locked away. Tried not to be with this horrible creature who
kept him here in this room. But he always managed to get to him. Always bringing up terrible sights.
Again and again, he saw Mommy falling, her head separated from her body. He saw the other children
laughing and throwing things at him. The water was the worst. He would drag him down into the water
and hold him there in the suffocating silence. Then he couldn't help it. He would scream, with the demon's
chuckling echoing around the room they never seemed to really leave. Occasionally he would leave, be
back in that cold white room, lying down, feeling the disgusting presences of those bad ones around him.
He knew they were to blame somehow. He would kill them all. Well.. perhaps not all. She could live.
Because she was good.
For All The Wrong ReasonsFor All The Wrong Reasons
Chapter 1
Deliverance
"Wydell, sir! We have another live one!"
They're talking about me, I know they are. Except for me, all the living ones were taken out of here. The
people clearing the place out now have been doing it with body bags.
"Get her in the ambulance with the rest of them," I assume this is the mysterious Wydell speaking. His
voice is demanding, authoritative; as if he's used to calling the shots and having others scurry to do his
bidding.
"We can't do that," the voice that first announced my status among the living informs Wydell. "The
ambulances have all left. Do you think we should send for another one?" His voice sounds much less
confident, but friendlier.
"No, I think we should make this one get off their lazy butt and truck themselves down to the hospital,"
Wydell says, with more than a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Coggs, get your head out of your ass and
think. Of course we should get another ambulance here, if we have another live one."

"I'll go radio for one," someone else calls out.

I've pushed myself in the corner as far as I can; curled up into a ball, trying to keep warm. It's always
warm in Texas, but not for me. I'm always cold, unless..

"Darlin', can you hear me?" the one called "Coggs" asks as he kneels down beside me.

I want to nod, but I can't. I want to scream, but I can't. I want to die, but I can't. I manage to move my
head slightly, so I can see my rescuer. He's a nice looking man; not in a handsome sense, but in a
personality sense. He's middle-aged, his hair shot with silver. When he sees that I'm looking at him, he
smiles. Deep lines etched around his eyes tell me that he is a man who laughs and smiles a lot.

I'm very aware now that I have no clothes on. Funny how little that has bothered me lately. Modesty
used to matter to me, but it doesn't anymore. I have no modesty left. Besides, I've got enough dirt, blood,
and other bodily fluids on me; I'm not exactly naked, am I? Lately, I have missed clothing only because it
can help to keep you warm. But now, with this fatherly man looking at me, I can almost remember what it
was like to be modest.

"Aw, honey, it's going to be all right," Coggs says. He reaches out and gently puts his hand on my shoulder,
trying to comfort me. Underneath those warm fingers, I begin to shiver. "Crap! Yeah, you must be cold,
little girl, you can't weigh more'n dandelion fluff. Let's see if we can't find something to warm you up."

Looking around the cage, he realizes there is nothing inside that can help, so he takes off the light weight
jacket he was wearing and gently drapes it around my shoulders. "This'll do for now, sweetie," he
murmurs. Terms of gentle endearment roll so easily off his lips. I'll bet he has children. Maybe even a
daughter my age. He looks old enough to have a daughter in her early twenties

He stands up. "Anyone got a blanket we can wrap 'round this girl? Poor thing don't have a stitch to her
name and she's freezing."

"I'll see if I can scare something up," someone says.

"Thanks, Joe," Coggs says, and kneels down beside me again. "We're gonna get you a blanket, keep you warm
while we're waiting for the ambulance, darlin'. You'll see, it's going to be okay. Can you say anything?"

Can I speak? That's a good question. I've spoken since my "new" life began, that fateful night when my car
ran out of gas. I used to speak a lot at the beginning. At first to cry, to scream, to beg. Then I learned to
say the words my captors wanted to hear; one in particular. But lately, I hadn't spoken much at all, and it
wasn't for lack of trying. Last night I'd tried. Or maybe it was the night before. Time moves strangely in
this new life. "You're trying!" he'd said, laughing as if I were the funniest of people. "I can see yer mouth
moving. Okay, I'll cut you some slack tonight, bitch; but if you don't die before the next time I take you,
you'd better be ready to say it."

"How about your name, darlin'?" Coggs asks. "Can you just tell me your name?"

This Coggs is trying so hard to be nice; I want to tell him my name, but I can't even remember it anymore.
Isn't that pathetic? Can anyone really forget their own name? I concentrate, tuning out the issues that
take up so much of my mind at times - hunger, thirst, cold - and try to remember my name. The name
"Karen" seems familiar. Is that my name? Then I remember; it was my name, but it isn't anymore. I've been
renamed, and even labeled, so I don't have to say my name anymore. Slowly, painfully, I manage to turn
my body so my right leg is visible and point to my new name, which is carved deeply into my thigh. I
point to it and then point to myself.

He reads my new name and winces. "I'm not going to call you that. No one is ever going to call you that
again, darlin'. That weren't never your name, I don't care what they told you."

I want to cry, but I probably don't have enough fluid in my body. My lower lip trembles though. Coggs
notices and puts his hand on my shoulder again. If his voice and actions weren't so fatherly, people might
think he was flirting with me. "Aw, it's all right. Your name'll come to you soon enough. In the meantime,
I'll just call you Honey, ' cause I'll bet once we've got you cleaned up, we're going to find out you have
pretty honey-blonde hair."

If Coggs were to find someone to bet on my hair color when clean, he would lose. My hair is a light brown
color. There's nothing wrong with my hair, but it is not the sort of hair anyone would describe as pretty.
Not like Baby; she's the one with the beautiful, honey-blonde hair.
A thick, colorful blanket is brought to Coggs. The person who brings it whispers to him, thinking I can't
hear him. "I took it off one of the beds upstairs. Hope nobody busts me for tampering with evidence, but
they've already gone through that room. It was on the Mama's bed. It looked somewhat clean."

Coggs thanks him and wraps the blanket around me, over his jacket. "It'll probably take a bit for you to
warm up, your body ain't exactly producing a lot of heat. But, it'll start working soon. I wonder where
that damned ambulance is?" The last part, I know, was just observation. He doesn't really expect me to
know where the damned ambulance is. The blanket draped around me smells like sex and perfume.

Someone comes over to us; a guy with dark hair a mustache and cold blue eyes. He looks down at me. I see
no pity or concern in his face. Unlike Coggs, this man's expression holds disgust and contempt; as if, deep
down, he believes that I'm the one responsible for my condition, and not the people who indoctrinated me
into my new life. "Don't worry, Miss," he says. I know from the voice that this man is Wydell. "You have
been delivered from Hell."

His words should comfort me, but they don't. The words might say comfort but the tone of voice is stern,
as if I'm not really worthy of being delivered from Hell, and maybe he should just send me back.

Coggs stands up to talk to Wydell. "I'm amazed she's alive," he says. "She's got something carved into her
skin that's been there so long, it's pretty much just a scar, so they've been messin' with her for quite a bit,
and ain't killed her yet."

Wydell looks over at me again, his gaze running over me, as if he's trying to see me in a different light.
However, the new image he is trying to form of me isn't exactly complimentary either. "You don't think
she's one of them, do you?"

"God, no!" Coggs says, also shaking his head empahtically. "If she were one of them, she'd be in a whole lot
better shape! But I do think there's something special about her that helped keep her alive."

"I'm not sure that being considered 'special' by that pack of demons is a ringing endorsement to the type
of person she is," Wydell says. Even though he is talking to Coggs, he hasn't once taken his eyes off me. I
still see disgust in them; if anything, it has deepened. I wonder; can he read my mind and see everything
I've done in my new life to survive?
"Yeah, but when she's feelin' better, she might be able to give you some insight about them," Coggs suggests.
"Somethin' 'bout them you can use to help you track them down."

Wydell's gaze breaks away from me and focuses on Coggs with such intensity that I wouldn't be surprised
if Coggs burst into flames. "By the time this one is able to do any serious talking, we will have already
found those assholes and rounded them up like the animals they are. Do you doubt that, Coggs?"

"No, sir," Coggs says. "I was only thinking - just in case - you know? If they're able to elude you longer
than you've figured."

"They will be rounded up in twenty four hours or less." I can hear the anger in Wydell's voice. He bites
off each word like it is taking everything he has inside him to control himself and not scream into Coggs's
face. I've seen a lot of anger lately and none of it is that controlled. It's harsh, it's violent, it's explosive,
and no one apologizes for it; if anything, they consider it a badge of honor. After spitting out his
prediction of the fate of the ones who survived, Wydell stomps off as though he can no longer stand being
around me and Coggs anymore; as if we might contaminate him.

Coggs kneels down beside me again. "Don't you worry, Honey. He don't mean half of what he's saying. He's
just upset that he didn't get all of 'em." At those words, my lips begin to tremble, and if I could whimper
again, I would. Coggs notices and puts his arm back on my shoulder. "Aw, I didn't mean to get you upset.
You don't have to worry. Wydell is the best. He'll get the ones that got away and you'll never have to see
them again."

I should find those words comforting. I want to find them comforting, but I can't. I pull the blanket
tighter around me.

"You must be a brave woman to have gone through all the hell you have, and still be alive," Coggs says.
"You must be pretty remarkable."
If I could laugh, I would. Brave? Remarkable? Words that have never been used to describe me. If Coggs
really knew me, he'd probably be laughing too.

Author's notes I know this chapter is a bit slow, but I had to lay the groundwork. Things do start picking
up in the next chapter, I promise.

Decending Into Hell

DISCLAIMER:I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil's Rejects.
I do not own most of these characters. They are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate films, and whoever
else holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan fiction, intended for the sole purpose of
entertainment. No one has been paid to write or host this story. No one is paid or will have to pay to
read it.

THE STORY ITSELF DISCLAIMER This story is rated NC-17, for disturbing images and excessive violence
as much if not more than sexual contents. If stories involving murder, rape, extreme violence,
cannibalism, humiliation, and so on, are not your cup of tea, DO NOT READ IT. If you are under the age of
18 don't read it either.

Specific warning for this chapter:Extreme violence, cruelty, and canabalism

Chapter Two
Decending Into Hell

Back in my first life, when I was Karen, I was never considered "brave." I wasn't a shaking ball of jelly
who was afraid of her own shadow, but I didn't have that sense of fearlessness and overconfidence that
often comes with bravery . I didn't mind being alone in my house at night, but I always made sure to lock
my doors and windows. I whistled when I walked through a graveyard. I closed my eyes when I was on
the first fall of the roller-coaster. Sneak up behind me and yell "Boo!", and I would jump. Perfectly normal,
right?

There was nothing special about me in any other way, either. I wasn't spectacularly good-looking, but I
had never stopped a clock. I was of average height, with light-brown hair and hazel eyes. No one called
me fat in my old life, but I would have looked better if I could have taken off ten or fifteen pounds. I had
an average nose, average mouth, and average-sized lips and ears. My teeth were even and straight, thanks
to braces and payment plans.
Personality wise, I was totally average and completely unremarkable. Growing up, I got mostly B's in
school, got enough A's so my parents could feel I was smart, and the occasional C to show there were
some subjects I needed more work on. I didn't hang with the "in"crowd, but my friends weren't among the
"losers" either.

I was accepted into a good college. Not Ivy League, but not the local community college either. College
for me was much like High School; mostly B's, a few A's and a couple of C's. My friends in college were
similar to my friends in High School. I didn't meet the love of my life, but I had a few good relationships;
one in my senior year that seemed for awhile like it would be the Big One - we even slept together. We
talked about marriage, but as our final year drew to a close, we both realized that we didn't share that
type of relationship. Our break-up was amicable and I didn't regret that I'd slept with him.

I showed every indication of living a Nancy Normal life. My friends, parents, and even I expected that
my life would follow the pattern of my generation. I would work for a few years, meet a good guy, settle
down and get married. I'd continue to work - because a new day was dawning, a day where women
weren't expected to leave the workforce when married - but it would be my husband's job that would
really count. Once the children came along, I'd either cut down my hours or stop to raise the children.
When they were older, perhaps I'd go back to work full-time. My life wouldn't be exciting, but it would be
a good life, with the normal ups and downs.

If you wanted to attach a catch-phrase to my life, it would be, "Steady as she goes." In fact, the only time
I ever broke away from the norm was when I decided to visit my former college roommate, Tracy;
traveling from New England to Texas in my brand new, baby-blue Chevy Chevette, a graduation gift from
my parents. My parents were solid middle-class, so the car had been a bit extravagant for them, but I'd
gone through college with a '67 Chevy Nova that was falling apart and they wanted me to start my real
adult life with a good set of wheels.

For most of the trip, I did everything the way a good Nancy Normal would. I stayed on the main roads
and only stopped in inexpensive but reputable hotels for the night. I didn't go to any restaurants unless
they were in well-lit public locations. I didn't drive too long each day, so I wouldn't fall asleep behind
the wheel. I took regular breaks and stopped at the proper historical landmarks that every good little
tourist stops at. Every evening, I alternated between calling my parents and calling Tracy, just to keep
them informed of my progress.

Then, I got to Texas and decided that instead of the main highway, I'd take an alternate route. Why? I
can't say. There was no reason not to take the newer interstate; no construction or weather difficulties
that would lead me to vary the path. All I can think is that I knew I'd be at my friend's house in the next
day or so, and I wanted to do something a bit different before I got there. Maybe have a small adventure
that might give me and my friend something to talk about when we went to the local bar for beer and
chili-cheese fries. "Yeah, I took one of the older interstate roads. It was great, hardly any traffic,
beautiful farms, and some really pretty scenery. I even stopped in one of the smaller towns and had
dinner in this funky old diner. Something right out of the '40s. Yeah, definitely pre-"Happy Days." The
locals were so colorful! Then, I decided to spend the night in town. I ended up staying in this darling inn -
really, a large house that the owners had converted. So much nicer than staying at yet another Holiday
Inn." Wouldn't that make me sound so worldly? Traveling by myself and stopping at remote towns to take
in some of the ambiance.

I'd grown up in New England, where most of the area was urban or suburbanized. I didn't realize how far
apart they could space little towns in Texas, and thus as a direct result, gas stations. As I was driving
down the road, singing along with John Fogarty and the rest of Credence Clearwater Revival about a
"Bad Moon Rising", I noticed my gas gauge was reading "E."

I thought I was in luck, because right after I noticed, I saw a sign for some place called Captain
Spaulding's, at the next exit. I didn't look the billboard over too carefully because my eyes caught the
words "Fried Chicken and Gasoline" and that was enough for me. "To Ruggsville it is," I commented, and
continued singing along with the radio.

It was quite easy to find the place; but once I got there and saw it, I began to have serious doubts about
getting gasoline at the place - never mind fried chicken. The place had a creepy look to it. "Museum of
Monsters and Madmen" and all those sinister looking clowns? I didn't have a fear of clowns; in fact, like
most kids my age, I grew up watching Bozo. But these clowns looked - well, evil. Normally, clowns and
murder just don't go together, but these sure seemed to.

Okay, so maybe I wasn't ready to be that much of an adventurer - especially with it being dark out. I
decided to drive through town and hope Ruggsville had a brand-name gas station. Sure, a Shell or a Mobil
station wouldn't have fried chicken, but I was willing to forgo that in favor of guaranteed clean rest-
rooms and a well-lit parking lot. I was also thinking maybe I could find that nifty diner and darling
family owned inn I'd been fantasizing about too.

I drove away from Spaulding's, hoping to just luck out and find another gas station and then hopefully
the main part of town. I'd never been to Ruggsville before and, so I had no idea how remote it really was.
I drove for awhile the needle of the gas gage getting more and more comfortable sitting on that big old
"E" I wasn't finding any signs of civilization - not a quaint country church, or a diner, or even houses.
Just as I was trying to convince myself that I'd be smarter to turn around and risk Captain Spaulding's,
my car began to sputter. I managed to coast to the side of the road before it completely shut down.

I knew what the problem was and I also knew that it might be hours until someone found me. I had only
seen one or two cars on the road the entire time I'd been traveling on it.

Staying with the car didn't seem like the right option, and I had no idea what was up ahead. The best
thing to do would be to walk back to Spaulding's and get a can full of gas to put in the car; enough so that
I could drive back and get a proper fill-up. If I was lucky, the place would have an assistant who could
drive me back to the car, saving me a double walking-trip. I got out and opened the hood to let people
know the car was having mechanical trouble, and that it hadn't been abandoned. I grabbed a notebook and
wrote a note saying I was out of gas with an arrow to point the direction I was going to head. I figured
if the cops passed and checked out the car, they would see what happened, try to find me and hopefully
give me a ride the rest of the way. Again, as any average person might be, I was a little nervous about
walking alone at night. Nothing extra-brave about me at all.

I had only walked a couple miles when I saw lights coming from behind me. I turned around to see a
vehicle, what I thought was probably a pick-up truck or something, heading in my direction. I stayed
safely on the side of the road, but waved my arms so they would know I was there and hopefully stop.

The truck came closer and, much to my relief, I saw it was a tow truck - how lucky could I get? The
driver pulled over to the side of the road. I ran over to the driver's open window. "Hi-" I began, then
stopped.

The driver was the biggest man I'd ever seen in my life. The cab of the truck was high, but his head was
almost scraping the top, indicating that he had to be well over six-feet tall. And it wasn't just his height
that made him tall, it was all of him. His upper arms looked like a couple of hams, the rest of him thick
and muscular. He had long, black hair, and eyes that glittered in the dim light coming from the moon. I
knew it was rude, but I couldn't help staring.

He didn't seem to notice or care about my lack of manners. "Your car?" he asked, jerking his thumb to
indicate behind him.
His voice startled me out of my rude staring, and I nodded. "Yes, that's my car. I ran out of gas. Do you
have any gas in the truck for this sort of thing? If not, can you drive me to that gas station up the road?
I'll pay-"

He interrupted my little speech. "Get in."

Okay, I thought to myself, this guy isn't Mr. Conversation. But, he is a tow truck driver; he's got to be
somewhat trustworthy, or he wouldn't be in business. I ran around to the passenger side. He didn't even
look at me, let alone lean over to open the door for me. I wrenched the door open myself and climbed in.

I barely had the door shut when the driver took off. I looked around for a seatbelt, but found none. The
interior of the truck was worn and filthy; and it stank of grease, oil, hundreds of fast food dinners eaten
over many years, body odor, sweat, and a metallic type of undercurrent scent I couldn't place, but, for
some reason, made me think of a dentist's office. This truck looked as if it had been around forever and
had the snot beaten out of it every day. The engine sounded relatively quiet as we drove along, which
made me figure that the truck was kept in excellent shape, mechanically so the driver just didn't care
about the interior. Half the radio knobs were missing too, and the door to the glove compartment was
gone.

Trying to be polite, I told him my name and asked what his was. He ignored me. It would be quite awhile
before I found out his name was Rufus. I told myself not to be offended, that maybe he got awfully tired
of strangers who asked him his name all the time. I decided to try a different tactic, thinking I'd get him
to relax, and then approach the name exchange again.

"I'm really glad to see you," I said. "I was afraid I'd have to walk the whole way to that gas station up
ahead. I feel so silly, running out of gas like that- I should really know better. But your coming along was
a godsend."

He let me babble like this for a couple minutes before taking his eyes off the road to look at me. "You talk
too much. Shut up."

Now I was more than a little shocked at this rudeness. But, again, I tried to justify it in my mind,
thinking that in a hick town like Ruggsville, everyone was probably used to this guy's odd behavior and
knew it was nothing personal. I did what he asked and shut up. I knew I'd feel a lot better when I was
back in my car with a full tank and driving away from this town, away from scary clowns and rude tow
truck drivers that looked like the missing link.

When we were getting close to Spalding's, he suddenly turned off the main road, and started driving
down a small, dirt, side street, heading in the opposite direction of Captain Spaulding's.

"Uhm.. are we going to another gas station?" I asked.

He didn't answer me, but drove faster. The road was really poorly maintained. Every bump jousted me
around and several times I was bounced high enough to hit my head on the ceiling.

Now I was starting to get more than a little nervous. "Excuse me," I said, deciding the silent rule was
over when this guy deviated from the main road. "Where are we going?"

"Thought I told you to shut up."

I forced myself not to panic, but instead tried to think about what I could do to get out of this situation.
My first thought was to hope he would slow down a bit, then jump out of the car. Trying not to be obvious,
I started feeling around for the latch, only to realize there was none. I felt for the window crank,
thinking maybe I could open the window and open the door from the outside - but the crank was gone.
Things that I had been dismissing as signs of extreme wear and tear began to feel more sinister. These
weren't mere coincidences; this truck was designed to keep the passengers inside, no matter what. I knew
this guy had no intentions of taking me to the gas station or back to my car.

Visions of being raped went through my head, which scared me enough. Then, visions of being murdered
after I was raped joined them. My resolve of not panicking began to crumble. "What are you going to do
with me?" I asked, trying to sound calm, but failing to hide the tremor in my voice. "Please, don't hurt me.
Please? I-I have money. A hundred in cash and some travelers' checks. You can have all of it, I don't mind,
just please, don't hurt me."
He let me babble in this vein for a bit before drawing in a sharp breath. "You don't listen. Told you to
SHUT UP!" The last part boomed out of his mouth like thunder. His anger alone was enough to make me
shut my mouth, but just in case I decided not to heed his warning, he reached down under the seat and
came up with a hunting knife. Even in the barely visible light from the moon, the blade shone wickedly. I
had a feeling that it was sharp enough to split a hair on. He reached over and held it to my throat,
staring at me. Clearly, he knew this road we were on like the back of his hand, because he continued to
speed along, even though he wasn't paying any attention to the road. "Ready to shut up now?"

I nodded very slowly, very carefully, so I wouldn't accidentally cut myself on the knife. I could feel the
flat of the blade, cold against my throat.

He continued to stare at me for a few moments and, when he became convinced I really was going to keep
my mouth shut, he drew the knife away from my throat and returned his attention to the road. He kept
the knife in his hand though, and occasionally looked over at me, almost as if he was waiting for me to
give him an excuse to kill me.

By then, I was convinced that I was going to be raped and killed, and I was doing everything I could not
to scream in absolute panic. I didn't know then that being raped and killed wasn't the worst thing that
could happen to someone. By now I could hear my heart beating rapidly; it seemed to be echoing through
the cab of the tow truck. I was surprised the driver didn't yell at me to make it shut up. My throat began
to feel dry, while my hands were clammy.

The driver finally pulled into the driveway of this dilapidated old farmhouse. And by dilapidated, I mean
the place looked like even if the Big Bad Wolf was a chain smoking asthmatic, he still would have been
able to huff and puff and blow the place down. Even though it was dark, I could still see the place looked
like hick-paradise. Cows were loose in the front yard, sharing their space with a couple of abandoned old
cars. Bottles on ropes hung from the eaves of the porch.

As Rufus pulled on to the property, he blew the horn; just one short blast. By the time we were up close
to the house, the front door opened, revealing a man who made my kidnapper look small. He was bent and
twisted, and walked with a slow, shuffling gait. He wore a cloth bag over his head, with eye, nose, and
mouth holes cut out so he could see and breathe. He lumbered over to the truck and opened up the
passenger door. I found out later that this guy had the ironic nickname of "Tiny" and he wore that mask
because he'd been horribly burned as a child.

Without a word, as if this was a common routine, the bigger guy grabbed me, pulled me out, and threw me
over his shoulder as if I were nothing but the smallest of children. He headed into the house, Rufus
bringing up the rear. I said nothing, thinking that if I kept quiet, and observed, I might find a way out of
this. It was a slim hope, but the only hope I had at this point.

We walked through the dark, dusty living room, into a small hallway and down into a basement. To my
utmost horror and disgust, the basement was filled with cages full of people, as if this basement was some
alien race's idea of a zoo. "Come one, come all, see the humans. Careful, sonny, they might bite!" The people
in the cages were in various states of health, ranging from seemingly fine to a serious case of death.
Those who were capable ran to the front of the cages and started grabbing at the wire, screaming at us.
Some were demanding to be released, Others begging for food or water - a lot were just shrieking like
animals. I'd never seen anything like this in my life.

Tiny began shuffling down the hall while Rufus followed behind us, to make sure I didn't pull anything
crazy. They didn't have to worry, I was in too much shock to do anything. Seeing these people was bad,
hearing their shrieking was worse, and beyond that, I could also smell blood, human waste, and scents I
couldn't identify and didn't want to. If someone wanted to give a name to the smell of the basement it
would be "Human Misery."

In one of the cages was guy who looked about my age. He and his clothing were filthy: he was too thin,
and was covered in bruises, but he still had some life in him - and obviously decided to show his defiance
to the situation. As we walked past the cage he was in, he came running up, screaming like he was
possessed by a thousand demons. I looked over and saw that he'd exposed himself. He pushed his member
through the wire on the cage and began pissing, trying to hit Rufus.

Belittling the notion that big guys were slow, before one drop of urine had a chance to hit him, Rufus was
able to side-step it. Quick as a rattlesnake, he reached out and grabbed the guy's plumbing, pulling on it
hard. The kid threw himself against the wire, gasping as that most sensitive area was jerked on. Rufus
took the knife he'd carried in from the truck and, in one swift motion, cut off what the guy had exposed.
All of it, even the parts that hang underneath.

The guy's eyes went wide in shock. A thin, high pitched scream came from his lips and he crumpled onto
the floor of the cage. Blood began flowing over the floor. I don't know if he died instantly, or suffered for
a bit, but he never moved again on his own power. He had barely hit the ground when the rest of his cage
mates started swarming all over him.

A cold, evil grin crossed Rufus' lips as he held up the guy's private parts. He wiped the blade of his knife
on his pants with his free hand and threw the grisly trophy in the opposite cage The people inside were
so thin that they reminded me of pictures of the concentration-camp victims from WWII Germany. They
jumped on what he threw at them, growling at each other as each of them fought for some of it. It was
like watching a horror-movie version of people at a Pinata party, scrambling around for the candy and
prizes, right down to the "winners" stuffing their "prizes" into their mouths.

This all happened so fast that for a moment, I didn't even comprehend what had happened. Then, as it sunk
in, I began to scream.

"Shut UP!" Rufus bellowed.

I couldn't. It was like someone threw a switch in my head that would only allow me to scream, no matter
how much I was threatened.

Rufus found the off-switch pretty fast. He raised his fist and swung it at me. I felt a thud against my
head, then everything went black.

Present And Past

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil's
Rejects. I do not own most of these characters. They are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate films, and
whoever else holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan fiction, intended for the sole
purpose of entertainment. No one has been paid to write or host this story. No one is paid or will have to
pay to read it.

THE STORY ITSELF DISCLAIMER This story is rated NC-17, for disturbing images and excessive violence
as much if not more than sexual contents. If stories involving murder, rape, extreme violence,
cannibalism, humiliation, and so on, are not your cup of tea, DO NOT READ IT. If you are under the age of
18 don't read it either.

Specific warnings for this chapter: Nothing worse than what you've seen so far.

Chapter Three
Present and Past

"Honey, there are some people here for you."

A voice breaks me from my thoughts. I gasp for a moment, forgetting where I am and what has been
happening. Even though the voice is non-threatening, I cringe before I remember that it's Coggs, the man
who has been so sweet and fatherly to me.

I look up and see a man and a woman in paramedic uniforms looking at me. I see Coggs has stepped off to
the side so that they can bring in the stretcher, or portable bed, or whatever you want to call it. I look
over at Coggs, terror rising in my chest. These people will want to touch me, and I don't want to be
touched. I stare at Coggs, wordlessly trying to beg him not to let these people touch me.

"It's okay, Honey," he says. "These people are not going to hurt you, they only want to help you."

I want to fight, but I know it will do no good. I don't have the strength to fight anyway. Coggs comes
over and kneels down with me, as if to comfort me as the paramedics prepare to take me away. "Go with
them, Honey. They're going to take you to the hospital and help you. As soon as I can, I'll come visit you. I
know you must be feeling so alone right now, but you're not alone, you have people that care about you."

He's right. I do feel alone. Horribly alone.

I let the paramedics help me onto the gurney trying not to wince as they secure me; trying not to shake
too much, as they touch me. I don't think I'll ever find it easy to be touched again. Even those fatherly
touches Coggs has been bestowing on me are difficult. I alternate looking at them. Both of them are
trying to be as professional as possible, but the sight of me sickens them. I won't hold that against them;
in fact, I don't even blame them. I haven't seen what I look like in a long time, but I'm sure it's a sight
that would make most people sick to their stomachs.
They try talking to me, as well. Just as Coggs did, they ask me my name. I point to my name carved into
my thigh. Just as with Coggs, they cringe. They don't tell me that's no longer my name anymore though,
they just act as if I never showed them and stop trying to get me to talk.

They bring me up the stairs and load me onto the ambulance. The girl comments that I hardly weigh a
thing, and the guy agrees with her. They are beginning to act as if I'm deaf. It doesn't bother me; that,
too, is something I've grown used to.

As the ambulance takes off, they give me some oxygen, and start doing other things to me. I don't like
being touched, but it isn't painful. It's more that my mind screams to me that being touched, any touch, is
wrong. To try to block it out, I close my eyes. I find lately that it's a lot easier to escape in my own mind,
focusing only on my thoughts than anything happening outside of me. I've learned that if I'm too aware
of what's on the outside of my mind, it can lead to a lot of hurt.

I might have drifted off - I might not have - but it seems like the ambulance has barely driven off, and
then I'm in the emergency room. Nurses are surrounding me, doing so many things to me, that I start to
feel like I'm some type of exhibit in a hands-on museum. A cuff is put around my arm and pumped up until
it hurts so bad, that I wish I could cry. My hand is cleaned off with something that is so cold it feels like
it's stinging. I look at it, shocked to see how pale and clean it looks compared to the rest of me. A nurse
begins to insert a needle into me. She sticks it into my skin, moving it around, and it's uncomfortable. She
takes the needle out. She puts it back in and moves it around more. She keeps doing this over and over
again, and I don't understand why. I just know it hurts.

"Shit, she's so dehydrated - finding a vein is impossible!" Her voice is brimming with frustration.

"Watch yourself," another nurse says sternly. "She can hear you. Here, let me try."

The second nurse is able to get the needle in the way it should go. Soon enough, there's a bag of fluid
dripping into me. Meanwhile, other workers are cleaning off other areas of my body with the same, cold,
stinging stuff that was used on my hand. Little sticky pads with tiny metal things are being stuck to my
flesh. Wires are being clamped onto the sticky things. I start hearing beeps and pings coming from behind
me, indicating that I've been hooked up to various machines.
Even though that one nurse pointed out that I can hear, they all talk as if I'm not even there. In a way,
this almost comforts me. I'm so used to being a non-entity.

"You think she's the worst of the lot?"

"It wouldn't surprise me."

"She's so filthy, she needs to be washed down."

"You're right, see if you can clean her off a bit. She's so dirty now, I'm afraid of infection. Be sure to clean
her carefully, especially any areas you're going to use for injections or for hookups."

"Did you see her thigh?"

"Yeah. Terrible, isn't it?"

"Those animals!" Those last words explode out of a nurse's mouth, like a verbal gunshot.

"I don't think she'll ever be able to get rid of that."

"Don't say that, they've made such strides in plastic surgery these days. I'm sure something can be done.
Might not look as if it never happened, but at least they can make it so it can't be read."
"She's covered in cuts and bruises."

"She's got lice."

"I'm finding a lot of deep scars too. I think they went after her with a knife or a razor more than once."

"She's had some broken bones that have healed improperly."

"Yeah, I've noticed that too. But I don't think they're going to re-break and set them right until she's a
lot healthier."

This chatter goes on all around me, it's all about me, yet I feel strangely detached from everything
they're saying. Someone gets some warm, soapy water, and I'm washed off. When that is done, I'm not
exactly clean, but I'm less filthy than I was. A hospital gown is put on me, over all the wires and things
that have been attached to me.

A doctor comes in, which sends all the nurses but one out of the room. The doctor talks in this hearty
voice that sounds so ridiculously fake that I know I'm disgusting to him as well. Like everyone else, he
asks for my name. I don't even bother to show him my thigh, he'll probably just tell me it isn't my name
anymore, like everyone else has.

When he determines that he's not going to be the miracle worker and get me to talk, he stops asking me
questions and does all the talking instead. For some reason that I cannot understand, everyone seems to
find it necessary to talk around me. I suspect they think that it's a comfort to me, that maybe I've spent
most of my new life without hearing human voices. Nothing could be further from the truth: I've been
bombarded with people talking to me, at me, near me, and around me.

He starts on the "brave" and "remarkable" trip that Coggs had talked about, telling me how wonderful I
am for having endured everything that has happened to me.
I start to tune him out. He continues to poke at me, prod me, do whatever it is he needs to qualify how
bad a shape I really am in, but I no longer listen to him.

*****

I had no idea how long I was unconscious after Rufus had slammed me in the head . When I woke up, I was
in one of the cages with five other girls. I don't know how long they had been there before I arrived. It
was hard to tell the passing of day into night in this basement.

I suppose I did all the usual things you'd expect a normal person in my position to do. I bemoaned my fate,
and I explored the cage I was in over and over again trying to find a way to escape. I tried to find out
information from my fellow cage mates. When they could give me no hope, I tried to talk to other folks
down there.

The best I could piece together, in the beginning, is that we were in some sort of holding area. Why were
we being held? To be tortured, killed, maybe drugged, and, in some cases, maybe even eaten. Members of
the family would come down and select whomever they thought was "worthy" of their attention. That
person would be led off, and, in most cases, would never be seen again. If they were returned, it was most
likely that they'd be in such bad physical shape that they wouldn't make it through the next twenty-four
hours. Sometimes, though, someone would manage to survive long enough to be selected again. The
general opinion was that no one ever made it past two selections. Since there was a very high turnover
of people staying in the basement, and no one had a chance to poll anyone who left, it was impossible to
find out who held the record for being selected the most times and surviving it.

Apparently, the family didn't care who they grabbed for the cages, or how many. There was no real
system; it seemed as if they took whomever crossed their paths. How they could get away with this as
long as they did will always be a mystery. But, this "take anyone you can, whenever you can" approach
led to times when there were more people than the family had time to "select" for their games. As a
result, some people never were picked; they were left to slowly wither away, likely to die of dehydration
or starvation. In some of the cages, the prisoners fought each other like wild animals. Food was pretty
much non-existent; so if you wanted to eat, you'd stop looking at your fellow prisoners as victims, and
more like a source of protein.
Eventually, the truth began to sink into my thick skull; here I was, and here I would die. I stopped trying
to find ways to escape the cage, knowing it was impossible. I stopped trying to talk to the other prisoners,
because they had nothing useful to tell me and most of them were so crazy, I was afraid they'd make me
crazy just by talking with them.

I don't know if you'd call what came over me an acceptance of my fate; I think it was more just being
unable to handle the pure, raw terror that threatened to overwhelm me. If I'd been forced to feel that
terror all the time, I think my body would have just quit. The terror kept my blood racing, my heart
pounding. Fine for cases when you can flee from the situation, but I couldn't run. Instead, it was as if
someone threw a blanket over my mind. Yes, I knew I was still in a terrible place. I was vaguely aware of
what was going around me, but the worst of it was somewhat softened. I just got into this state of
almost.. pleasant numbness.

For awhile, Rufus and Tiny were the only members of the family I saw. Rufus came down later and
brought another person for the cages. Tiny's bedroom was down in this basement, so he was always
wandering in and out.

Tiny was about the only way of getting food and water in the cages. He took some of his meals in the
basement sometimes, and, if the mood struck him, he might toss his scraps into one of the cages.
Occasionally, he'd even walk down the aisle with a bucket of water and plastic tumbler that was small
enough to fit through the wire spaces of the cage. He'd distribute these "water shots" until he was either
interrupted, the bucket went empty, or he became bored. I really think Tiny looked at us as his
responsibility, as if he were our keeper. In his mind, I'm even willing to bet that he thought he was taking
pretty good care of us. Besides being deformed and deaf, I think Tiny was mentally retarded. He'd
probably be classified as "functional" if he'd grown up in a normal family, but he sure didn't have that
chance. No one taught him that if you wanted to keep people in cages alive and somewhat healthy, you
needed to feed them regularly and provide a constant source of fresh water. The little dribbles of water
and scraps of food just weren't enough.

I was luckier than some. My cage mates weren't fighters, so when Tiny did toss food in our direction, we
would grab for it, but we wouldn't attack each other for more. We didn't try to steal water from each
other, either. In fact, the first time water was brought, one of the girls took a sip from the cup, a small
sip, and then passed the cup to the next girl, who passed it on to the next and so on. Everyone, myself
included, got a sip of water from that cup. Tiny filled it up again and the same thing was done. I realized
these girls had decided that their way of surviving was to band together. Everyone got the same amount
of water or food. This "all for one and one for all" attitude was rather touching, considering what went
on in the other cages around us. I should have been even more touched when they included me into their
little group, but I just accepted it.

Sometimes I could hear noises coming from upstairs and I'd wonder about who the occupants of the house
were. I shouldn't have bothered; soon enough, I'd be meeting the rest of the family.
Baby's Choice
LEGAL DISCLAIMER: I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil's
Rejects. I do not own most of these characters. They are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate films, and
whoever else holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan fiction, intended for the sole
purpose of entertainment. No one has been paid to write or host this story. No one is paid or will have to
pay to read it.

Warning for this chapter: Humiliation, bad language, implied hetero and oral.

Chapter Four

Baby's Choice

I have no real idea how long I was in that basement before someone other than Tiny came downstairs. I
remember when it finally happened, though; I heard the door to the basement opening, which happened
quite often. But the person coming down the stairs was much lighter on their feet.

The person came into view and I stared. I'd been expecting another brutal-looking person; not as big as
the other two, but definitely ugly and mean-looking. What I saw was one of the prettiest girls I've ever
seen in my life. Pretty blonde hair, a figure I'd have given my left-arm for back then, and a sweet-looking
face with perfect teeth. When I first saw her, I thought she was an angel who had come to rescue us.

She started down the hall of cages, looking inside of them. My fellow prisoners began shrieking, yelling,
and acting the same way they did when Rufus and Tiny had brought me down there, which made me begin
to suspect that she wasn't the angel of mercy who would rescue us after all.

She looked from cage to cage, acting like a child in a pet store trying to pick the perfect puppy, even to
the point of skipping and singing nonsense:
"Monkey, monkey, sitting in a tree

Who's gonna come and play with me?"

She stopped in front of the cage next to the one I was in, and looked around. There were four men in the
cage; college students, most likely. They all looked at her in terror. She grinned, those overly-white
teeth of hers flashing brightly; as if, instead of shaking in terror, these boys were fighting for the
privilege of being selected by her:

"Red or yellow, pink or blue

Can't have 'em all so I'll take YOU!"

She pointed to one of the guys, who started to shake. "No," he begged. "Please, no."

"Aw, c'mon, we can have such fun together!" She clapped her hands together happily.

"Slidin' down the banister

Jumpin' on the bed

We can play together

Until you're fucking dead!"

On the last two words, her expression suddenly went from sweet to mocking-and-evil.
The young man's trembling became worse. He shook his head and began begging. "Please don't ... please . .
don't ... please don't," as if it were a sacred chant that would save him.

She laughed, her expression going back to angel-sweet. "Ha ha! Gotcha! Ain't down here to find someone
for me." She turned away from their cage and looked over to ours. "Otis needs someone to play with and
he told me I could pick tonight!"

She walked over to our cage, while the young man who'd been given a reprieve began to sob in relief. Her
gaze went from each one of us, again reminding me of a child in a pet-store. "Otis ain't never let anyone
pick a playmate for him before, least not that I can remember," she said, as if explaining this to us would
make us feel honored rather than terrified. I had no clue who Otis was, but I doubted he was going to sell
us some whole-term life insurance. "So I wanna make sure I pick him an extra good one. So, which one of
you gives the best head?"

None of us answered. I couldn't quite believe what I was hearing. The way she acted, it was hard to
believe she could comprehend the idea of oral sex, never mind slang terms for it like, "giving head."

"C'mon, don't play like this. I'll bet atleast one of you really likes to do all that nasty stuff. So, tell me,
who spits and who swallows?" She laughed again; this cackling, annoying laughter like a deranged child. If
she'd been seven or eight, the laughter would have been bad enough, but coming from a woman who was
probably the same age as me, it was more than irritating. "Aw, don't tell me all we've got to pick from are
shy little maidens. Well, I guess I'll have to do this another way then." She closed her eyes, bobbing her
head from side to side for a moment, as if keeping time to music that only she could hear. When she
opened her eyes, she started in with another one of those children's nonsense songs:

"Ink-a Bink-a bottle of ink

The cork fell off and now you stink

It's not because you're dirty

It's not because you're clean

It's not because you kiss the boys

Behind a magazine."

As she sang, at each syllable she pointed to each of us in turn.

"Your mama say you're stupid

Your daddy say you're bright

Baby say you pick the girl

That Otis gets tonight!"

She ended her song pointing to one of my cage-mates. "Yay! You get to pick which one of your friends get
to be Otis' playmate. Bet you're just sorry it ain't gonna be you, huh?"

The girl stared at her, eyes wide. "I-I can't," she whispered.

"Oh, yes, you can!" she said, in that same cheerful, overly-bright voice. "'Cause if you don't, I'll kill all your
little friends and then bring you to Otis. He won't be happy to know I had to waste so many other play-
things, and he'll probably take it out on you." Her expression and voice then did a flash-switch to cruel:
"So pick one of these fucking bitches and step on it!"

I would love to say that at this point I bravely stood up and volunteered, to spare the other girls, but if
I did, I'd be a liar. Again, all these "brave", "extraordinary" and "remarkable" labels for me are such a
crock. In truth, I crossed my fingers and silently prayed, 'don't let it be me, don't let it be me, over and
over again.

Knowing that the threat was deadly serious, the girl finally pointed to me. Do I blame her? No, I don't. I
even understand in some ways. Last person in, first person out sort-of thing. For all I knew, the other
five girls had grown up together and were captured together. I was the least-known of the bunch.

I was taken from the cage, my arms tied behind me. "If you scream, I'm going to cut your fucking head off,"
I was cheerfully informed. To make sure I didn't suddenly come down with a terminal case of brave, she
walked behind me, arm around my neck, knife held to my throat.

I was guided up the stairs and out of the basement, through the dark living-room, up another set of
stairs, down a hall, and into a bedroom. Once in the bedroom, I was brought to one of those office chairs
and told to sit down.

I did as requested. I was facing a window, which opened out into a pitch-black night. Looking around
quickly I also saw a simple wooden desk with a soda can on it. My gaze fell upon the soda can and I
couldn't look away. I hadn't been getting enough water since I came here, but I'd been able to ignore it.
Seeing the possibility of liquid acted as a signal to my brain to remind me that I was really thirsty.

"Otis! I picked you someone!" my jailer called. "C'mon out and see!"

"I'll be there in a second, Baby," a male voice called out. I wasn't sure if he was referring to this girl as
Baby in an affectionate sort-of way - the way someone might call someone "sweetie" or "darling" - or if
her name was Baby. I would find out soon enough that Baby was the name everyone called her. I wasn't
too surprised; she certainly acted like an annoying baby, way too much of the time. "I'm just putting the
final touches on Katmandu."

"Well, hurry up," Baby pouted. "I don't want to wait all night!"
"Quit being so fucking impatient!" the voice, who I assumed belonged to this "Otis" called out. "I'll be there
in a god-damned minute!"

In my old life, I rarely heard swearing. My family didn't use it and neither did most of the friends I had.
In my new life, I was to hear profanity tossed around as easily as other people tossed around expressions
like, "Nice day we're having," or, "I love that dress you're wearing."

Unable to do much else, I looked out the window, seeing nothing but inky-blackness. The moon wasn't even
shining. My wrists ached from the ropes that bound them and my mouth kept feeling drier and drier. I
looked away from the window and back to the soda can. Coca-cola, that familiar red-and-white can.
Normally, I am not a soda drinker, but, looking at that can, I suddenly had a craving for it that I'd never
experienced for any type of beverage before. The only thing that would have been more wonderful was a
glass of cold, clear water.

"Well, what have we here?" I heard someone say, and then felt myself being spun around in the chair.

"See?" Baby said, giggling. "Didn't I do good?"

I looked up, finally getting a chance to see Otis, the man I'd been "selected" for. I swallowed, which made
my mouth feel even drier.

He had the appearance of a total freak. While he wasn't as tall as Tiny or Rufus, he seemed tall to me.
Tall and skinny to the point where you wondered if it was healthy. Both his hair and skin were so white
that they almost appeared to be luminous in the dim light that came from one small lamp on the desk. His
eyes were so badly bloodshot that they looked as if even the irises were red. They were sunk into his
head, giving his face a skull-like appearance. He would have looked as if he were dead, had those red eyes
not glowed with a fiery intensity that only comes from being convinced that it's not you who is insane,
it's the rest of the world.

I thought, for a long time, that he was an albino. It turned out that his problems were a little more
treatable. The eyes were a result of a minor infection, combined with allergies. The pale skin was a
combination of his refusal to go outside during the day unless absolutely necessary, and malnutrition. No
one ever stopped Otis from eating, except Otis himself. If he was in a particular mood, he might just
totally forget about eating. When he had to eat, he wasn't fussy about it either. He would grab anything
he could and stuff it down his throat until his stomach quieted down. The rest of the family would try to
remind him to eat, but he could react so violently that they'd learned to take the attitude of, "Well,
guess you'll eat when you're damned good and ready!"

He was staring at me from across the room. Baby had been the one who had spun me around. He was
standing in front of a red curtain, which I would discover later separated his "studio" from his regular
bedroom. He was wearing a pair of jeans so filthy that I would bet if he took them off, they'd stand on
their own power, and a T-shirt that advertised something called "Pussy Liquor". The T-shirt was probably
white at one point in its existence. Over the T-shirt, he wore a long-sleeved shirt that looked as if it once
belonged to someone who sang in a Country and Western band. For all I know, it did.

He ignored Baby's request to be complimented for her choice in this evening's play-thing, and looked at
me. "Well, stand up, let's see what you got."

I stayed on the chair, my body frozen.

"C'mon now," he said, coming closer to me. "Don't be shy."

"Stand up, stand up, stand up," Baby repeated over and over again, in a sing-song chant. Then, she jabbed me
in the shoulder with her knife and screamed, "STAND FUCKING UP!" She didn't jab as hard as she could
have, but I still felt the stinging pain as it pierced through my T-shirt and into my skin.

I jumped up to my feet, not wanting to be poked again with the knife. I had the uncomfortable feeling
that if she felt she had to jab me repeatedly, every jab would get deeper. I could feel blood beginning to
trickle down my arm.

Otis looked me over, frowning, as if he wasn't quite sure I was what he was hoping for. "Untie her," he
ordered Baby.
"Gee, and who was your slave last year?" Baby griped, but she put the knife on top of the dresser and
untied the ropes that had been binding my hands. She threw the piece of rope onto the bed and grabbed
her knife again, while I rubbed my wrists.

"Okay, let's see what you got," Otis said.

"Excuse me?" I whispered.

"Why, did you burp?" Baby asked, then laughed at her own stupid joke.

Otis rolled his eyes at Baby, but then looked right back at me. "Again, let's see what you got."

"I'm. . I'm - I don't know what you mean."

"The clothes, bitch, the clothes. Take 'em off."

Even though I'd been expecting a sexual assault of some type since the Rufus had driven in the opposite
direction of the gas station, I wasn't expecting this. I guessed in my mind, no rapist would ask their
victim to disrobe - they would always disrobe the victim themselves. I don't know why I thought this
way, but I did. I stared at him as if - well, as ironic as it sounds, as if he were crazy.

"Don't play coy now, take 'em off."

He said it slowly, but I could hear the menace in his voice and knew that whatever torture he had
planned for me tonight would get progressively worse the longer I hesitated to do his bidding. Trying
not to break into tears, I started to undress. I pulled the T-shirt off my head and dropped it on the floor.
I kicked off my sneakers and unzipped my jeans, letting them fall off me. I stepped out of them and stood
there in my bra and underpants, looking down at the floor.

"C'mon," he said.

"C'mon what?" I asked, bewildered.

"Did I say you could leave your underwear on?" Otis asked, his voice getting less friendly with every
word he spoke. "I said, take your clothes off - now do it."

For some reason, taking off my panties and my bra seemed like one of the worst things I could do. Even
though I knew, beyond any doubt, that if I refused to do as requested, I would be seriously hurt - to
remove them myself made me feel like I was doing this willingly. Now that I think about it, I'll bet he
knew that too.

"Did I tell you to take your time about it?" he asked.

I started with my bra, which was one of those back-snap ones. I reached around and undid it, then peeled
it off my shoulders and held it for a moment.

"Don't got much, does she?" Baby crowed. Had this been a normal situation and these normal people, I
might have reminded Baby of pots who called kettles black, but I figured she might not take kindly to
that. She reached up and grabbed the bra from my hands, draping it on her head so the cups looked like
misshapen ears, and started singing:

"Who's the leader of the club

Who's made for you and me

M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E!"

She broke into that annoying laughter when she was finished, as if she was the first person in the world
to ever come up with that trick.

Otis wasn't looking at her, his attention was still focused on me. "Good job," he said, as if I were some
animal performing a difficult trick. "Keep going."

I closed my eyes and tried to fantasize I was in the locker room at the YWCA or something, that this
was no big deal. It didn't work to calm me, but I was able to peel my panties off.

"Eww!" Baby cried out. "Your underwear is N-A-S-T-Y, NASTY!"

Easy for her to say; she hadn't been trapped in a basement for god-knows-how-long, without proper
sanitary facilities or toilet-paper. I didn't remind her of this though, I just fixed my gaze to a spot on the
floor.

Baby walked over so she was standing by Otis and looked at me. "Wow, Otis, the hair down there is lighter
than the hair on her head. Ain't seen that much before." She moved a bit closer. "You keep it really short-
trimmed, don't you? You one of those nasty girls who likes to have several men every night and doesn't
want all that down there hair getting all stuck together from their jungle juice?"

I bit my lip to keep the tears at bay and whispered, "No."

"Aw, I'll bet you are," Baby disagreed. "No one go to that much trouble, less they wanna be ready for
action."
Tracy's family had a pool and a handsome older-brother. It was made clear that there would be lots of
time spent by the pool, and if he and I hit it off, Brother might join us there. While I wasn't sure how
Brother and I would get along, I was at least going to try my damnedest to look perfect, and that
included not having any issues about what was sticking out of a bathing suit. I had no idea I'd be showing
a bunch of inbred hicks my attempt at sexy sophistication.

"You've been eating good," Otis said. By that point, I'd bet I'd already lost some weight; most likely water-
weight from being semi-dehydrated, but I still had a bit of that pudge I'd fought with all my life. "You a
little piggy-girl? Can't keep her face out of the cake and ice-cream?"

Despite my lip-biting, despite the lack of fluids, the tears started gathering in my eyes and rolling down
my face. As I have said, it wouldn't have hurt me to take off 10-15 lbs, but I certainly wasn't fat. I tried
to tell myself the only reason why he said this was because he was so skinny; anyone of normal weight or
above must look morbidly obese.

"Yeah, I'll bet that's it," Otis said. "Can't stay away from the candy and the cookies. Always going for that
extra piece of pie, or those brownies. Stuffing your face, getting fatter and fatter until the day you eat
that one last Twinkie and just explode like a big old whale, huge chunks of blubber landing everywhere.
Damn, girl, they'll make enough oil from your carcass to light a thousand lamps for a thousand years!"

Baby giggled at this. "BOOM! Bitch blubber everywhere!" She looked at me and then to her brother. "Legs
ain't bad though, right?"

"Nope, not bad at all," Otis agreed. "Probably all that walking from the ice-cream parlor, to the bakery,
then to the candy store."

This, of course, gave Baby another fit of laughter. She started to say something, but she was interrupted
by another voice, female, coming from outside the room.
"BABY! BABY! WHERE YOU AT, GIRL?"
She rolled her eyes, sighed, and went over to the door. "WHAT, MAMA?" she screamed as she opened the
door.

"I NEED SOME HELP WITH DINNER!"

At the word "dinner", I could hear my stomach gurgle. I hoped that with all the noise, no-one else, Otis in
particular, heard it. I could just imagine what insults he'd come up with if he knew I was hungry.

"MAAAA!" Baby screamed as if "Mama" was suggesting she cut off her own limbs and feed them to the
dogs. "I'M MESSING AROUND WITH OTIS AND HIS NEW TOY! I PICKED HER MYSELF, MAMA! SHE'S
KINDA FAT AND NOT VERY PRETTY, BUT SHE'S GOT NICE LEGS!"

God, this was even worse than being studied like an interesting species of insect by Otis. Baby's yelling
made me feel as if I wasn't even an insect, as if I wasn't even worthy of having a life. I might as well
have been a chair she was describing.

"SHE'S A NASTY ONE TOO! YOU SHOULD SEE WHAT SHE'S DONE TO HER DOWNSTAIRS AREA! ALL
TRIMMED AND PRIMPED UP LIKE SHE WAS GONNA SHOW IT OFF FOR EVERYONE!"

"BABY, I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT RIGHT NOW. YOU LEAVE OTIS WITH HIS NEW FRIEND AND YOU
GET DOWN HERE AND HELP ME WITH SUPPER RIGHT NOW!"

Baby sighed first, then shouted, "FINE, MAMA, I'LL BE DOWN IN A SECOND!" She turned to Otis. "Pooh, I
gotta go help with dinner. Well, you two have fun, and don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Still holding my
bra in her hand, twirling it around on her finger by one of the shoulder-straps, she skipped out of the
room.

Now I was alone with Otis, and I wasn't sure what was worse.
We're Going To Play A Game

LEGAL DISCLAIMER:
I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses
or The Devil's Rejects. I do not own most of these characters. They
are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate films, and whoever else
holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan
fiction, intended for the sole purpose of entertainment. No
one has been paid to write or host this story. No one is paid or
will have to pay to read it.

THIS
CHAPTER DISCLAIMER: Rape,
implied necrophilia, humiliation, violence, and strong language.

Chapter Five

We're
Going To Play A Game”

Otis shut the door behind

Baby, and turned his attention back to me. For the moment, he seemed
to have run out of insults to hurl at me. He pushed the chair away
and walked around me. “Yeah, not bad,” he said, slowly.
I said nothing.

He walked around to the

front of me. Automatically, I raised my hands to cover myself. He
grabbed both of my arms, not viciously, but not gently either. “I
didn't tell you it was okay to cover yourself.”

I put my hands to my sides

and forced them to stay there.

He nodded his approval and

studied me more further, his gaze running over
my naked body “Hmm.. Can't
think of what I want to do with you. Maybe it'll come later. Might
help if you talked. Why don't you tell me about yourself?”

He said this last part as if

we had met in a laundromat or something, and we were just passing
time by getting to know each other. I couldn't believe it. He had
me strip in front of him, and now he was playing this game. “Nothing
to tell,” I whispered.

“Oh, I'll bet you have

a lot to tell,” he disagreed. “Ain't met a bitch yet who
couldn't blab up a blue-streak, given half the chance. Say
something.”
I allowed myself to look at
him, to see if I could read what game he was playing. He was just
staring at me, a strange grin on his face. “C-can I have some
water?” I asked.

“Water?” He
frowned as if he'd never heard of the liquid before. “You want
water? Why?”

Did he really mean that, or

was he messing with me? “Because I'm so thirsty,” I
said. “We don't have any water in the basement.”

“Whaaa, whaaa,
whaaaa!” he said, mimicking me in a way I'd imagine Baby could
sound if things didn't go her way. “The poor little
chunky-monkey is thirsty! Give me one good reason why I should give
you anything to drink.”

I should have been used to

him and not be shocked by what he said, but I still was having
trouble with that. Food, water, the basic necessities of life, I'd
never before had to justified my desires for them. Since I was a baby, these
things had either been provided for me, or they were in close enough
proximity that I could get them for myself. I thought of food and
water as my rights, and in my middle-class life, they had never
been in short supply. No one should have to beg for the right to eat
or drink. “Because my throat is dry, and I would really
appreciate it,” I said.

“Because my throat is
dry and I'd really appreciate it.” He mimicked me again,
making me sound pathetic. Then, he advanced towards me. “Listen,
bitch.” His eyes narrowed and his voice became cold. “What
you want doesn't matter a hill of shit to me. Yeah, you're probably
all used to everyone cow-towing to your needs. Mommy and Daddy are
probably so proud of your college-going ass that you could shit in
their mouths and they'd think it was fucking chocolate. But you
ain't home no more. Mommy and Daddy aren't here to save you. All
you've got now is me.”

As he spoke the last

sentence, he grabbed my upper arms, his fingers wrapping around them
tightly, and pushed me back quickly, until the backs of my legs hit
the bed. Then he shoved my chest so I fell sideways onto the bed.
My head hit the wall with a sickening thud. My lower legs had hit
the frame of the bed, so I was half-lying, half-sitting, on the bed.

The bed was filthy with

blood, body-sweat, and other fluids I didn't want to know about.
I'd fallen against something that felt strangely like another person,
lying length-wise underneath the covers. How they had been able to
sleep with Otis' yelling and Baby's cackling was beyond me. Without
thinking, I pulled the covers away to make sure they were all right.

Dull, lifeless eyes stared

back at me. It was a corpse I'd fallen on, and from the looks of it,
she was none too fresh. I hadn't noticed much of a smell in the room
before, but, with the covers back, the stench of rotting flesh hit me
so hard that if I'd had anything in my stomach, I'd have thrown it
up. As it was, I felt bile beginning to rise. This was just too
much. I shrieked and tried to jump up and off the bed, ready to run.

Laughing, Otis blocked me

the moment I was on my feet. “Where you going, Chunky?”

“I gotta get out of

here! I gotta get out of here!” I cried, so horrified that I
didn't care anymore. I was in full-bore panic mode. “I gotta
get outta here!”

“I gotta get out of

here, I gotta get outta of here!” he mimicked. “Good
fuckin' luck, *Dwight Fry, you ain't
goin' nowhere.” With that, he raised one booted leg and kicked
my left knee so hard that tears shot to my eyes and I collapsed onto
the bed, onto the corpse.

Since I had uncovered part

of the corpse, when I landed, I saw her head and shoulders bounce
from the impact and some fluid leaked out of her nose and mouth. I
shrieked again and tried to rise, but this time, the knee he'd kicked
buckled and I fell backwards, yet again, hitting the body and causing
it to move.

The whole time, Otis was

laughing as if this was the funniest thing he'd seen in a long time.
“What's a matter, don't you like my friend? I thought we'd
have a little three-way, what d'ya think? She your type?”

Now I was shrieking for two

reasons: the horror of what was happening, and the realization that
my knee was of absolutely no use to me. Whatever Otis had done when he kicked me was enough to
cripple me; at least, for now. I wondered if he was one of those
crazy Veterans the conspiracy lovers would talk about. The rumor was that during the Vietnam War, the
government had given certain soldiers LSD, instead of vitamins, to make them more
aggressive, and then gave them “special” training. All
of these “experimental” soldiers were supposed to be
crazy, aggressive, and well trained in the art of maiming and
killing. I had dismissed those stories as pure, paranoid baloney.
Now I was wondering if maybe they were true.

He jumped on the bed, on top

of me, straddling my torso. The pressure of his landing pushed me
further into the corpse, and, when one of his knees struck the body,
it jerked so violently that, for a
moment, I thought she had been reborn as a zombie. More fluid oozed
out of her mouth and nose onto the dirty sheets.

“SHUT – THE -
FUCK - UP!” Otis shouted, slapping me across the face,
alternating one hand with the other, one strike for each word. Then, he stopped hitting and leaned over
me, his knees digging
into my sides. I could feel the heat of his breath, and smelt
alcohol, and other things I couldn't place - and didn't want to,
either. “You're not in Disney Land any-fucking-more,” he
whispered, pressing his crotch into me. Much to my horror, I could
feel him starting to get aroused under the thin, dirty jeans he wore.
“This is my fucking Magic Kingdom here. You can scream
all you fucking want, it won't do you any fucking good. Your Mommy
and Daddy can't hear you, and there ain't any of your ass-backwards
fellow college students dressed up like fucking rodents to hear your
cries either. This is your life, Mama, as long as it lasts. Accept
it.”

I closed my eyes tight, so I

wouldn't have to look at him, or see the corpse I was lying on top
of. I tried to blank out everything going on, because I had the
feeling if I didn't, I'd lose my mind. I had no idea that later I
would be wishing I had lost my mind and never recovered it.

“You ain't getting out

of this that fucking easily!” he cried out, slapping me again.
“Open your eyes, bitch!”

I did as he asked. He was

leering at me. “Don't think you're going to get away with
that, either. No little journey to the center of your mind, none of
that crap,” he said, as if he could read my thoughts. “You're
here and, until you're dead, this is where you stay.” Then,
he leaned over and kissed me.

I'd only had one lover

before, but like most girls of my generation, I had done a fair bit
of kissing in High School and College. But I'd never been kissed
like this before. At first, he was just sort of slobbering all over
my face, in the general area of my lips. This was probably because
my mouth was closed. Finally, he reached over and grabbed me under
the chin, putting his thumb and middle-finger on my cheeks. He
pushed the fingers towards each other, which made me open my mouth a
bit. He then covered my mouth with his and stuck his tongue in my
mouth, rolling it around, licking the inside of my mouth. Yes, I'd
French-kissed before, but not with a psychotic, necrophiliac, maniac.
He certainly didn't care that I might need to breathe, or that
shoving his putrid tongue down my throat might make me want to gag.

When he finally broke off

the kiss, I was gasping for air. Breathing through my nose had
become difficult from all my previous crying. I drew in deep breaths
and tried to ignore the stench of the body I was lying on.

He got off me and climbed

down from the bed, looking down at me.
“You loved that, didn't you?” I wasn't sure if he was
being sarcastic, or if he really thought I could have enjoyed being
mauled.

I said nothing. I
half-expected him to smack me around and insist I give him an answer,
but he didn't. Instead, he grabbed me by the arm and hauled me off
the bed. The moment I put weight on my left leg, the pain was so
excruciating that it folded under me. My right leg wasn't enough to
keep me up so I crumbled to the floor like a thrown towel. He
laughed.

“Don't you move now,”

he said, kicking me in the face. The kick wasn't as hard as he was
capable of, but I felt something explode in my nose and blood began
to flow out of my nostrils. I could taste blood on my tongue and
knew that my mouth and lips were bleeding as well.

I curled up into a ball as

best I could, and wondered what was going to happen next. I heard
him messing around with the bed, and then, he picked me up and threw
me on it. This time, I was positioned lengthwise on the side that
pressed up against the wall. He had moved the corpse so that it was
on the other side of me. Now he crawled onto the bed and spread my
legs apart so he could fit himself between them. Then, he kissed me
again, and started grinding his pelvis into mine. The erection I'd
felt earlier hadn't diminished at all, and, even though he had pants
over it, I swore I could feel heat radiating from it, as if it were
something red-hot that would burn me if it were freed from its denim
prison.

He kissed me for a bit,

while he was dry-humping me. His right hand played with my left
breast, squeezing it, pinching the nipple as hard as he could, and rolling it around in his thumb and
forefingers as if it were a screw top he needed to get open.

I know there are women out

there who like having their breasts mauled a bit. I am not one of them. I wanted to cry out in pain, but
his
forceful tongue working its way down my throat was a pretty effective
gag.

After enduring this torture

for awhile, he drew his knees up on either side of me, and sat up.
“We're going to play a game,” he said.

I thought about the

three-way he'd suggested earlier with the corpse and shuddered as I
waited to see what sort of game he had in mind.

“If you look, you'll

see that my other friend is right near the edge of the bed,”
Otis said. “In fact, she's really close to the edge.
Now, here's the game. I'm going to lie on my back. You're going to
get on top of me, and ride me like I'm a bucking bronco. You're
going to give it everything you got, 'cause by the time I'm shooting
my demon-semen into you, I want her to have fallen off the bed
because of all the motion and commotion.”

“I can't!” I
quickly protested. “My knee - you really did a number on it.
I'm not going to be able to do that!”

“My knee, my poor

pwecious knee!” he mewled in a mock imitation of me. “Bitch,
save the whine for another time. You can do it, and you will
do it, or you'll really be sorry.”

My knee was still throbbing

and I thought that if I did what he asked, the pain would be
unbearable. “Kill me,” I mumbled, taking a guess at what
'really be sorry' meant, “You're going to anyway.”

“Well, you're right

about that,” he agreed. “But that's not what I had in
mind for now. If you don't want to ride me,
I'll have you help my friend out. She loves a little girl-on-girl
action, and she thinks you're just the one to do it.” He
reached over and grabbed the corpse by the hair and lifted her
slightly. “So, what do you say, my dead little whore? Should
Chunky give you some business?” He shook the girl's head so
it looked as if she were nodding, and then spoke for her in a high,
annoying voice. “Yes, Otis, that sounds fun. I want the bitch
to lick me.” He looked at me. “So, what's it going to
be? Ride me or get real close and personal with Muffy? It's your
choice. I could enjoy watching a couple of whores play, too.”

I couldn't even think of

touching the corpse. I did flirt briefly with the idea of refusing
in hopes that he'd kill me, but I realized that he could also grab my
head and force it onto any part of the corpse he so desired. Maybe
he couldn't make me lick it, but shoving my face into a dead woman's
crotch would be enough. “All right, I'll play,” I
whispered, as if I really had much of a choice.
“Good girl.” He
let go of the corpse. “Sorry, sweetheart, you'll just have to
wait your turn.”

He rolled off me, so he was

lying on the corpse. I sat up and inched my way down to the end of
the bed. When I had given him enough room, he moved over to where
I'd been, and rolled onto his back. I partly expected him to demand
I remove his pants for him, but he wriggled out of those by himself.
Now I could see what he'd been grinding into my groin before,
sticking straight up like some sort of flesh-flagpole. He was
average in size, but at that moment, it looked enormous. I studied
it for a moment, repulsed, while trying to think of how I was going
to do this. Although my former lover and I had played around with
different positions, the mechanics of it didn't really concern me; we
just did what came naturally. With this, not only did I have to
feign passion - I had to wrestle a corpse from the bed.

Since the throes of passion

were about the furthest thing from my mind and I was completely
terrified, I had no idea how I was going to do this. I started
inching my way towards him, trying to avoid the corpse and favor my
knee. I could feel him staring at me, so I tried to hurry it up,
although this was the last thing I wanted to do.

I kept waiting for Otis to

yell at me at me, grab me, or do
something even worse, but he didn't - he just watched me. It was my
left knee he'd trashed and of course, it was my left knee that I had
to lift over to straddle him. I started to do that, moving slowly,
realizing that if I moved too slow, the chances of me being unable to
take the pain were higher and I might end up slamming my knee into
his leg. That would probably really piss him off so he'd hurt me, on
top of making my knee hurt more. So, I
gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, and swung my leg over him as fast
as I could instead. It wasn't nearly as hard as I thought it would
be, but when I tried to rest upon it, pain shot through my entire
leg. I gasped and bit down on my lip, which was still bleeding from
the kick he'd given my head earlier.

“That's it, slut.”

He nodded his approval at my efforts so far.

I knelt over him and thought

about what was going on for a bit. This was the most humiliating
situation I'd ever had to endure. Not only was I going to be raped,
but I was going to be the one to initiate it. I was going to have
to ride him hard enough to knock a body off the bed, or else he would
make me do things to the corpse that I couldn't imagine, and then
kill me. If that wasn't enough to suffer, I also had one major
issue before I could even set about performing my own rape.

I wasn't at all excited, and

this created a problem that I wasn't sure how to resolve.

I shifted as much of myself

as I could to my right side and closed my eyes trying to figure this
out. My brain wasn't working quickly either.
“What's the problem,
bitch?” Otis asked.

“Uh . . well . . I'm

not really ready for this,” I mumbled.

“Well, get
ready,” he snapped.

My lower lip trembled, and I

could feel my nose beginning to sting like it wanted to run. It was
still bleeding slightly, too. “I-I don't know how.”

“You for real,

Chunky?” He stared at me for a moment, as if I was making no
sense, then I guess my dilemma hit him. “Oh Christ, woman,
haven't you ever heard of lubricant?”

“Yes,”I said,
“But, I- I don't have any.”

“Sure you do.”

He grabbed my right hand with his, and smashed into my nose. The
bleeding had slowed down from earlier when he'd kicked me in the face
but with this action, it started flowing again, heavier than before.
He held my hand up over my nose for a bit and then pulled it away.
My palm was filled with a combination of blood and mucus. “Nature's
lubricant,” he sneered. “Always ready when I am!”

I stared in disbelief; was

I really expected to use a handful of my own bloody snot to lubricate
myself so I could take him inside me?

I hesitated. Otis got

impatient at my stupidity for not grasping what was so obvious to
him. He reached up and smeared his hand over my face, getting a
handful of mucus and blood. Then, without any warning, his hand shot
down between my legs where he smeared the blood. I almost tried to
jump off him, the movement had been so unexpected.

“See? That's how you

do it.” A mocking smile played across his lips.

He had started this sick

game, and left me to finish it. I took my handful of blood and
wrapped it around his penis, figuring that if he was going to use my
blood on my crotch, it was good enough for his dick. He watched
me, but made no effort to push my hand away. I couldn't believe
that he really didn't mind using my blood and snot as a lubricant,
but then again, this was a guy who had a dead body in his bed. Was
there anything in this world that could freak him out? I doubted it.

Fully “prepared,”
I gritted my teeth and raised myself up to take him and guided him to
the proper place. Pretend this is Danny, I told myself, Danny
was my ex, Pretend it's Danny and you can get through this.

I was about to slide down,

when he reached up and grabbed my hips, stopping me. “Open
your eyes,” he demanded.

I didn't want to, but I

opened them.

“Look at me,” he
ordered. I tried to look at his chin, hoping that would fool him.
“LOOK AT ME!” he shouted. “LOOK ME IN THE FUCKING
EYES!”

I looked up at him. Those

demonically bright eyes of his were staring at me. His gaze locked
with mine. Then, gripping my hips, he slammed me down on top of him.
“Now I own you, bitch - now you're mine!”

Despite the bloody

lubricant, it still hurt like hell. My knee was screaming in
protest too. I froze, gasping, and tried to block out the pain.

“Get moving, slut. I

didn't tell you to stop!”
I did what he requested,
it's not as if I had a real choice. My knee felt like it was being
jabbed by a thousand hot needles every time I moved it, and my mouth
and nose continued to drip blood down the front of me, onto his
chest.

He never did anything. He

didn't grab me, he didn't thrust up to meet me. He just kept
himself stiff and stared at me. Every time I would shut my eyes, he
would yell at me to, “Open them NOW, BITCH!”, but other
than that, nothing. He might as well have been an
anatomically-correct wooden-doll.

The corpse was moving along

with us as I did what I'd been ordered to do, but the mattress we
were on was old and sinking in the middle. With Otis and I on the
bed, we were making that dent even bigger, so the corpse was
rolling towards the middle of the bed rather than to the edge. It
would roll down hitting my right leg and Otis' side. He didn't
notice, or he didn't care, not even when more fluid leaked out of the
mouth and nose of the body, spilling on him.

I knew the corpse wasn't

going anywhere without some help. I leaned forward, putting my arms
down on the bed and shifted some of my weight to them. I waited for
him to say something, but he didn't. I continued performing my own
rape, and, when the body came close, I would attempt to shift it a
bit with my right arm and leg. This meant I had to shift some of my
weight to my left side - my left knee - which, again, hurt like
hell. I never thought that pain could keep rising like that. I
always figured you hit a plateau when your body was taking all the
pain it could handle. That might be true, but I wasn't reaching it
that night. Every time I thought I'd hit the maximum, a more intense
pain would flood over me. With every fresh wave of pain, I'd
squeeze my eyes shut, grind my teeth, and tried to will it away. If
I kept my eyes shut too long, I was yelled at to open them.

I wondered about the need to

have me look him in the eyes, but I now think I know what that was
all about; having to be the driving force in my own rape was bad
enough, but to having to look him in the eyes was double the
humiliation. It also kept me right in the moment. I wasn't able to
imagine myself with Danny, I couldn't even pretend I was with anybody
else. But there was one slight advantage; he was so concerned about
keeping my eyes focused on him that he wasn't paying much attention
to my right arm and leg. Bit by bit, I started pushing them against
the corpse, trying to make it fall off the bed.

In order to make it so that

he would concentrate more on me and forget about the corpse, I sped
things up. As disgusting as it sounds, the blood and mucus was
making things easier, and, much to my shame, my body kicked in with
its own defenses. No, I was not enjoying this at all - rape was rape
- but the body is designed to protect itself, even if that means
lubing up in the right areas.

When I saw that I'd pushed

the corpse close enough to the edge, I took my chance. Gritting my
teeth and still staring Otis in the eyes, I raised myself as high as
I could go, without - dismounting. I
ignored the pain shooting through my left leg and, sliding my right
knee and arm down and out, I pushed the corpse as hard as I could.
I don't know if it was a coincidence, or if Otis had incredible
control, but the moment I was able to give the corpse that one, final
push that sent her off the bed and onto the floor, he grabbed me by
the hips and slammed me down on him as hard as he could. “FUCK
YEAH!” he shouted, and emptied himself inside me.

Tracy, who had been much

more worldly than I, had once told me that every guy in the world has
a stupid orgasm face. No matter how tough, or how masculine he is,
once any guy hits that big O, he will look like the biggest,
goofiest idiot that ever walked the planet. My experiences with Danny had never given me any reason to
doubt her.

I found out that night

that she was very wrong. Otis didn't look stupid or goofy; he looked
as mean as ever, perhaps even meaner, as if orgasms only fuled his
hatred. When he saw I'd managed to “win” at his corpse
game, he grinned then. The grin didn't make him look any friendlier,
or any saner, but it was a grin. “Didn't
think you had it in you, slut, but you did it.”

He pushed me off him, and

shoved me to the side, so I was in the same place the corpse had been
before I managed to “fuck it off the bed” - though I
tried not to dwell on that. I also tried not to focus on my knee,
which alternated between a dull throb and sharp shooting pains, and
my nose and mouth, still aching from the earlier abuse. Instead of
those things, I wondered how he would kill me, and if it would be
quick. I hoped it would be.

“Yeah, all you fancy

little college girls are good for is fucking,” he said. I
guess this was his form of “pillow talk”.

I probably should have kept

my mouth shut, but I didn't. “I'm not a college girl,” I
whispered. “I graduated.”

He broke into an
almost-maniacal laughter. “I stand fucking corrected!”
he snorted between bouts of laughter. “You fucking graduated!
So, what the fuck was your major?”

“Interior design.”

This was even funnier to him

than my graduation. “Interior-fuckin-Design! Well, good for
you, Chunky. Needed to go to college to learn how to paint a
fucking room and hang some fucking curtains? Boy, your family must
be proud as shit and back with you. 'Wow, Marcy, our god-damned
daughter went and got her-fucking-self a god-damned degree in
interior-fuckin'-design! Boy, I sure squirted some good stuff the
day we made her, huh?'” As he talked, the amusement drained
away and was replaced by a raw anger. He turned over to his side,
then rolled to his knees, grabbed me by the shoulders and started
shaking me as he continued his tirade. “I'm not talking about
Fantasy Fucking Island, Bitch-whore, I'm talking about what's real!
This is the real world, bitch! No fancy college, no
white-bread friends drinking coffee down at Denny's, passing around
philosophical bullshit. I'm talking re-FUCKIN'-ality. You have any
clue what it's like in the real world? Do you? DO YOU?”

I had no clue what the best

way to answer that would be. I finally decide that he really didn't
want me to make a claim to being worldly. “No.”

“DAMNED RIGHT YOU

DON'T!” he yelled, still shaking me. “In the REAL world,
you work! In the REAL world, you don't go to no fucking Ivy-
colored college to learn how to make your bedroom all cozy just so
you can stick your fucking head in the fucking sand -”

He continued in this vein

for what seemed like forever, just yelling at me. Most of what he
said didn't make a whole lot of sense. It was as if he was
determined to be angry with me and
certain that I deserved even more of his wrath and anger.

Then, when he'd finished

telling me how useless my life was and how worthless I was and how he
was the one who was supposed to lead the revolution or some-such
other crap, he threw me back down on the bed, grabbed my legs, pushed
them open, then jumped on top of me and pushed himself inside me.
He didn't demand I keep my eyes open and fixed on him this time, he
just rode me fast and hard, as if he was possessed, in a frenzy. I
closed my eyes and twisted my head to the side, trying not to look at
him.

Since seconds were like

hours, it must have been days before he finally spent himself inside
me. He didn't yell this time, he just slammed into me so hard that
for a moment I was afraid he'd shattered my pelvis. Still holding
himself up on his arms, I could feel him twitching inside me, which
told me he was probably finishing up what he'd started.

When he'd finally drained

himself to the last drop, he shuddered and then fell on top of me.
For the longest time, he didn't move and I tried as hard as I could
not to breathe or stir beneath him. I felt his hot breath on my
neck, but otherwise, he was still.

I wondered what game he was

playing - and then he softly snored. He'd fallen asleep.

*****

*Shameless
Alice Cooper Band tie in. If you've heard the song
the Ballad of Dwight Fry
you'll know just how well it fits. And, since this is taking place
in the '70s, it fits the story.

Author's Notes:
I'm caught up with what my beta readers have given me, which means it
might be a bit before the rest will be “published” here.
The story is
completed, it won't be abandoned.

Shameless begging:
Yes,
I might have finished this story, but I'm working on another Devil's
Reject's fanfiction, and I have an idea for at least one more.
However, I'm not going to worry about publicly posting them, unless I
know that there are people out there that want to see what I've
written. So, if you are keeping up with this, I'd appreciate it if
you'd let me know what you think. No, you don't have to write a
stunning review praising me to the skies for my brillant use of the
word “and.” Just a line to say, “Yeah, this is
good, I'm liking it!” is wonderful. By the same token, you're
also welcome to write: “I really don't
like this,” too, of course. Just be warned, if you say
you don't like it, I'm likely to ask why. I don't mind being told my
writing is bad or not to someone's tastes, but I do like to know why,
so I can work on improving.

To Mileni and Anon: thank you for your feedback so

far. I really appreciate it.
Risky Business
CHAPTER WARNING: No sex, but some heavy implied violence. And a disgusting scupture.

Chapter Six

Risky Business

Some might think I was fortunate that Otis fell asleep that night. As for me, I'll always wonder if I was
or not. It seemed that Otis' normal modus operandi was to tie his victims up until he got around to killing
him, or they had the nerve to expire of injuries inflicted while Otis was having said fun. Yet, he hadn't
tied me up. Maybe he was drunk? I had smelled alcohol on his breath. Perhaps he had been up late the
night before, raping and killing the girl that I'd bounced off the bed, and was more tired than he thought?
Maybe it was something in the air? No matter the reasons, the facts were that had fallen asleep on top of
me and hadn't done anything to confine me.

I felt him shrink and fall out of me. I thought that might wake him up, but it didn't. His head was resting
near my ear, and I could hear him wheezing slightly, his breath making my inner-ear itch. Even though he
was really skinny, he seemed to get heavier with every passing moment. My knee was not in a
comfortable position and I couldn't do anything to adjust it. The crying and talking I'd done tonight
hadn't helped my thirst and it suddenly seemed like a million years ago that Tiny had delivered water to
myself and my cage-mates. The way my head was turned, I could see the soda can on the desk. It was
painfully reminding me that some things I'd been experiencing these last few days - headaches, muscle
cramps and so on - were signs of moderate to severe dehydration.

I didn't dare move, for fear I'd wake him up and he'd be furious, but I did hope something else would wake
him up. I remembered that Baby had been called from the bedroom to help with dinner and I hoped that
maybe he'd be called for the evening meal . It seemed to be a pretty slim chance. Unless the family had
been starting with a frozen turkey, dinner would have been ready awhile ago.

Just as I became convinced that he was going to stay on top of me all night, he made this sighing noise,
and rolled off me. I exhaled slowly in relief. Before I could shift myself and get a bit more comfortable,
he rolled onto his side, facing me, and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close.
I tried not to stiffen, tried not to whimper, as my knee was forced to move. I made myself act like a rag-
doll, so he wouldn't wake up and be angry with me. I did roll to my side so my back was to him. He
snuggled up to me, still sleeping.

Of all the things that had happened that night, as strange as it sounds, that was the weirdest. He'd
smashed me in the face; he'd messed up my knee. He'd yelled at me, raped me, and humiliated me in ways I
never could have dreamed up. Yet, in his sleep, he cuddled up to me like we were long-time lovers. I
wanted to scream. I thought I would scream. I forced myself to breathe slowly and evenly, certain that
a scream would escape at any moment.

Instead, I fell asleep.

**********

I don't think I slept very long, but I really have no way of knowing. It was still night when I woke up.
Otis had rolled away from me and was facing the wall. I concentrated on not moving so that I wouldn't
disturb him.

I was exhausted. Not just physically tired, but emotionally too. Too much had happened to me since the
night my car ran out of gas. Human-beings reduced to cannibalistic savages; dead bodies treated with
casual contempt, violence, insanity, and rape. If someone here were to offer me a handful of pills and a
glass of water, I'd take them all and hope to die. But right after I had the thought, I regretted it. It
reminded me of how very thirsty I was.

I thought about the can of soda on the desk and I believed that I might be able to get to it without Otis
knowing about it. His breathing sounded deep and even, telling me he was deeply asleep.

I inched my way to the edge of the bed slowly. Every movement of my left leg sent pain shooting
through it. Slowly, terrified I would make some type of noise, I sat up
The bed creaked.

I instantly froze, terrified Otis would wake up and ask me what the hell I was doing. I tried to listen, but,
for a few seconds, my heart was racing so fast, it was all I could hear, its beating drowning out
everything else.

Otis didn't wake up.

I forced myself to take some shallow breaths before swimming aroumd so that my legs were dangling off
the bed. No problem for the right leg, of course. The left knee continued to let me know how pissed off it
was by sending shooting pains through it. You know that feeling you get when you've had a limb fall
asleep and it begins to wake up? The "pins and needles" feeling? Well, instead of "pins and needles", imagine
that it's knives and fishhooks, and that's close to what my knee was feeling like.

Using my hands and my right leg, I inched my way to the head of the bed, where I could use the
headboard to help me rise to my feet. I dangled my left foot in the air to help reduce the pain and
pressure to my knee, however, my left leg didn't seem to find much comfort in this effort to spare it.

Again, using the headboard, I lowered myself to the ground on my right knee, avoiding the corpse of the
girl from earlier. Once I got to the floor, a little of my fear subsided. If Otis woke up right at that
moment, I could claim that I'd fallen out of bed.

I hesitated - both to see if Otis would wake up, and to give my knee a rest. Otis's breathing didn't change,
and my injured knee calmed down enough to risk moving ahead with my plan.

I figured out a way to half-crawl, half-drag myself around, using both my hands and my right leg. I
wasn't going to win a race, but I figured I could get to the soda can. I made my way over to the desk.
Pulling myself up as much as I could, I reached up and wrapped my fingers around the Coke can, bringing
it to my mouth.
Even before it reached my lips, I knew it was empty. I still tried to drink from it, maybe there was a drop
or two of liquid, but the can was very empty. I put it back on the desk, wanting to cry. Couldn't something
- anything - go right for me? This crazy family wasn't likely to let me live another twenty-four hours,
and would probably come up with a brutally painful way for me to die. Wasn't that enough? Did I also
have to be so thirsty that it felt like someone had packed my throat with sand?

I wanted to sink into a deep pool of self-pity, and mourn my fate. I wondered if I laid down on the floor,
if I could just will myself to die. Maybe there was a knife or a gun in the room; if I found it, could I kill
myself?

Instead of pity, anger surged through me. There had to be something in this madman's room I could use to
end my life, and I was determined to find it. I would not take any more of this - nor would I let that
bastard, Otis, or that little bitch, Baby, or any of the other lunatics in this house, determine my fate.
They might have doomed me to the hands of the grim reaper, but I would pick my time; I would deny
them the satisfaction of taking my life. I would only let them discover my body. If they wanted to eat,
fuck, or play "pin the tail on the Chunky Monkey" with my remains, I wouldn't care; I'd already be free.

I looked around the room, wondering where I should start my search. The desk I was in front of seemed
the best place. I reached for the lower drawer, and then stopped.

My thirst was unbearable. My resolve began to waver; not because I strongly wanted to live, but because
all I could focus on was getting something to drink.

I think it was my resignation to kill myself that caused me to become stupidly bold. The house seemed
very quiet and it was dark outside, so I was certain that the occupants of the house were sleeping. I
wondered if maybe, just maybe, I could move enough to get out of this room and find something to drink. I
wasn't sure if I could get down any stairs with my bad knee, but there could very well be a bathroom on
this floor - and if I could find it, I could get some water. I would slake this terrible thirst, and return to
this room able to think - able to find something I could use to take my life. As it was, I felt so weak that
I wasn't sure I even had the strength to use a gun or a knife on myself.

Since I was planning on killing myself, I must have figured that it wouldn't matter if I got caught
sneaking out of the room. I might die more painfully if caught, but I might also piss off whoever caught
me so much so that they'd kill me in anger before they realized what they had done, and my death would
be quick.

This was one of those situations that, regardless of the outcome, in my mind, victory was mine. A grim,
gruesome victory to be certain, but a victory nonetheless. I started crawling across the room.

I was getting close to the door, when I noticed the curtain that Otis had been behind when Baby had
brought me into this room. I remember him telling Baby that he was putting the final touches on
something called "Katmandu". I didn't figure that there was a bathroom behind that curtain, but, there
might be another can of soda behind there, one that Otis hadn't finished. Or, maybe it would lead to a
bathroom. It was worth a shot.

I crawled over to the curtain, pushed it aside, looked into the room, and gasped in shock.

The curtain separated Otis's "art studio" from his bedroom. Otis fancied himself an artist - a sculptor,
actually. I was getting my first glimpse of his work, and discovering exactly what Katmandu was - I don't
think Bob Seger had this in mind when he sang a song about "goin' to Katmandu".

Otis's Katmandu was a young man, maybe eighteen or nineteen, who had been killed and turned into a
grisly sculpture. From the neck down, his body had been carved and twisted to resemble a cat. What the
carved body could not mimic in a cat's body had been supplemented with some type of sculpting material;
it might have been papier-mch, or clay, or even wood. I was not going to touch it to find out. Both the
body and the sculpting material were painted white and orange, to resemble the markings on a tabby-cat.
But the face was the worst; one eye had been removed, and, judging by the horrified look on the corpse, I
was certain that it had been removed while he was still alive. It had been replaced by a large marble; the
type that kids call a "shooter". The marble had a pattern I recognized instantly; "cat's eye". The mouth was
open in an expression of pain and terror, and, resting on the tongue, was the missing eyeball.

I caught myself before I screamed and quickly jammed my hand in my mouth to keep me quiet. I inhaled
several deep breaths through my nose to try and steady myself. There's nothing you can do for him, he's
already dead. There's nothing you can do for him, he's already dead, I kept chanting to myself in an effort
to calm myself down.
I looked around the studio and saw nothing that would sate my thirst. Not another can of soda, or even a
bottle of beer. What I did see was a table that held an assortment of knives, an axe, a few hatchets, a
hacksaw, and a couple of hammers. If Otis was an artist, I figured his first gallery show would be in the
Ninth Circle of Hell. I debated whether or not I should try to grab a weapon from the table, but decided
against it. There was no way I'd be able to fight off anyone, not in the condition I was in, and I had no
way to hide a weapon for later, either. If those tools were to serve any purpose for me, it would be in
killing myself - after I'd gotten something to drink.

I inched my way out of the studio, and let the curtain fall. I looked over to the bed to see if I'd done
anything to wake up Otis. He was sprawled across the bed, one arm flung over his eyes as if he were
trying to block the light from the lamp. 'Did you forget to turn off the light?' I thought. 'Or is the big, bad,
Otis afraid of the dark?' My lips curled in a slight grin, causing them to crack. I knew, deep down inside,
that Otis wasn't afraid of the dark, but thinking of him being afraid of anything helped strengthen my
resolve.

His breathing was still steady and even. If he wasn't asleep, he was really good at faking it. I decided to
take my chances and inched my way over to the door.

As I reached up for the handle, a vision of the door being locked flashed so vividly in my mind that I
hesitated. I could almost see Otis waking up before me, sneaking over to the door and locking it with a
key and then hiding the key, thinking this would be a fun game to play with me. "Let's see if she tries to
leave and finds out she can't!"

My hand wavered, almost at the doorknob. The vision in my head seemed so real that I was convinced the
door would be locked. I forced myself to reach out, grasp the knob, and slowly twist it.

Just because I was able to think it did not mean it would be so. Thoughts are just thoughts after all, even
when they're bad ones. The knob twisted under my fingers, and I opened the door.

End of Chapter Six

********************
Author's Notes Uhm.. Chapter Six is up. Again, now it's up to my beta readers before you get anymore.
Thank you to the few people who took the time to let me know what they thought of this story. It means
an awful lot to me.

If you've gotten this far, you must have formed an opinion about the story one way or another, why don't
you let me know what it is?

Busted
LEGAL DISCLAIMER: I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil's
Rejects. I do not own most of these characters. They are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate films, and
whoever else holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan fiction, intended for the sole
purpose of entertainment. No one has been paid to write or host this story. No one is paid or will have to
pay to read it.

CHAPTER WARNING Pretty mild actually. Extreme violence, language, and some stuff that might make
the overly sensitive a bit squicky.

Special thanks to My husband, who didn't call the men in the white coats when he found me crawling
around the floor, checking to see how someone in Karen's position would do trying to function in a
bathroom.

Chapter Seven

Busted!

I knew it was a big risk to leave Otis's room, but a risk I was willing to take. However, that didn't mean I
wasn't terrified when I managed to inch my way out of the room and close the door behind me. The
hallway was dark, and the only noises that greeted my ears were the sounds of crickets in the distance. I
considered this a good omen that the members of the household were all asleep and this calmed me down,
just a bit.
For a brief second I entertained the notion of trying to get out of the house, but it didn't last long. I
knew the farm was secluded. I couldn't even walk, so how was I going to get anywhere to find help? No, I
still figured my best options were to get some water and then kill myself. If I were lucky, I'd find a
bathroom with razor blades in it, then I could take care of both things in the same location.

I hadn't remembered passing a bathroom when Baby led me upstairs, so I went in the other direction.
There were no lights on in the hallway and no windows to let moonlight through, so I was feeling my
way along in inky black darkness. I'd pull myself along a bit, using my hands and leg, then I'd feel along
the wall to see if I was near a doorway. I came across one almost immediately. The door was shut, and I
had no idea if this was a bathroom or another bedroom, so I dropped down on my stomach and put my ear
up to the bottom of the door and listened. I heard the faint sounds of steady, even, breathing, so I pulled
myself up and continued.

I came to another doorway and did the same thing. This time I heard nothing. I listened awhile longer,
but heard no breathing. I slid my fingers under the door and touched the floor behind it. My fingertips
were met a cold, smooth surface. The hallway and Otis's room had wooden floors. The floor behind this
door felt like tile, the type of floor usually found in a bathroom. I pulled myself up, reached around until
I found the door knob, and twisted it open slowly.

Moonlight shone through a small window across from me. It wasn't a lot of light, but it was enough to tell
me that I was correct, this was the bathroom. There was a tub to the left of me and to the right were a
sink and toilet.

I crawled inside and then paused to rest. I hadn't traveled that far from Otis's room, but I was still
exhausted. My arms and legs were trembling uncontrollably, so I grit my teeth and tried to focus on
making it stop, not an easy task. I forced myself to breathe in through my nose and out through my
mouth several times, which stopped tremors, though it made me very light headed.

Now that I was in the bathroom, I realized I was facing brand new issues I hadn't thought of earlier. Such
as, how was I to get water without making a lot of noise? I went over to the sink, which was one of those
basic affairs with just the basin on the wall and the pipes leading into the wall underneath, there was no
vanity. I tentatively hooked my fingers over the basin and tugged on it gently, testing the strength. The
whole sink moved slightly. That told me I couldn't pull myself up, using the sink as leverage. I struggled
for the faucet, so I could turn it on and use my cupped hands as a container. Reaching them was hard
enough, but turning them was impossible. Everything I'd been going through these last days was catching
up with me. Dragging myself here had probably tapped into the last of my physical reserves. If I didn't
get water soon, chances were I'd end up passed out on the floor.
I struggled for what seemed like a very long time to try and turn the faucets, then I lowered my arms,
breathing rapidly, as if I'd been running a marathon instead of just trying to turn on a faucet. I looked
over at the tub. Even from the faint light of the moon in the window, I could see that it was one of those
old fashioned tubs with the clawed feet. I knew one thing for certain about them; old plumbing. And I
knew one thing about old plumbing, it was noisy. Chances were, if I couldn't turn the faucets in the sink, I
sure wasn't going to be able to turn them in the bathtub, but even if I was able, I couldn't risk the noise it
might make. If one of the lunatics in this house woke up and heard the sink running, they'd think someone
went to the bathroom and go back to sleep. Hearing the tub/shower running late at night might make
them investigate.

That left the place I could get water quietly, the toilet. I looked over at it and bit my lower lip. In a
house where people slept with dead bodies in the bed, it was hard to imagine that keeping the toilet bowl
clean was high on the list of priorities. I couldn't tell the condition in the dark, and that was probably
for the best. However, it was water, which I hadn't been able to find anywhere else.

I moved closer. Some small voice in me, a voice I believed to be my own, or at least the girl I used to be,
the last thoughts of Karen, told me this was really nasty. I could smell the faint mineral odour that well
water always seems to have. That smell instantly made my mouth try to water, but instead produced a
gluey saliva that made my thirst even worse.

I raised the seat slowly, then dipped my hands down into the water, scooped some up and brought it to
my lips. Once I drew it into my mouth, all thoughts about how nasty it was or how many microorganisms
were lurking about in it, ceased to matter. I had never before had anything taste so good to me. The
closest comparison might have been when I was a child and was given a glass of apple juice after I'd been
throwing up for days from a nasty virus. This water was even better than that. The mineral taste didn't
even bother me.

If I could have I'd have stuck my head down and slurped the water into my mouth like a dog, but I had to
use my hands for a cup and scoop it out. The first few gulps made my thirst worse as my body recognized
that it was getting what it desperately needed. I forgot about everything around me, where I was, what
had happened to me, nothing mattered to me but quenching this insatiable thirst.

I never heard the footsteps in the hall, or coming into the room. I never heard the click of the light
switch. I only dimly remember being aware that the room had filled with light, but even then not caring
as I brought another handful of water to my mouth and slurped it up.
I did, however, feel fingers wrapping in my hair and yanking at me sharply. My head jerked back and I
saw Otis, staring down at me, his expression one of disgust and rage. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK
YOU'RE DOING?"

I gasped, and choked on some water as I reached up, in a feeble attempt to stop him from yanking on my
hair. The water I'd managed to drink had restored some of my strength, but not enough to stop him. He
began dragging me by the hair, out of the bathroom and down the hall to his room. I scrambled, trying to
push myself along with my good leg, so it wouldn't feel like he was trying to rip the skin of my scalp.
"Lemme go, lemme go!" I cried out.

"Otis, what's going on?" I heard a woman's voice, call out.

"Nothin' you need to concern yourself with, Mama!" Otis called out, still dragging me.

"Well, whatever's going on, quiet down! I need my sleep."

Otis stopped and turned; then still, holding me by the hair, he kicked me in the shoulder . "See what you
done? You woke Mama, now SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

I didn't point out that his yelling had been much louder than mine, I just let him drag me back to the
room, struggling to push myself along behind him so he wouldn't be ripping my hair out.

Back in his room, he hauled me up by the hair. I tried to bend my left leg, so I wouldn't have to worry
about putting weight on it, but it didn't want to bend. I was only on my feet for a few seconds, long
enough to bring tears to my eyes, when he let go of my hair. Then, he grabbed me by the shoulders and
shook me violently. "What the FUCK do you think you were doing, you god damned fucking Suzie-Cream-
cheese piece of shit, WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU DOING?"

His fingers wrapped around my arms, the nails digging into my skin as he shook me. My head flopped back
and forth like that of a worn-out teddy bear. "Stop," I managed to say.
To my amazement, he did, but I don't think it was my words that did it. "What the FUCK were you
DOING?" he repeated.

I stared at him. He gave me another shake. "ANSWER ME YOU FUCKING BITCH!"

I was too terrified to answer him. That probably seemed strange, considering that the whole journey to
find water had started so I could have the strength to kill myself. It certainly seemed that with a few
well-chosen words, I could have easily gotten Otis so pissed he would have snapped my neck like a twig,
but I was only able to stare at him.

He grabbed me by the throat with one hand and tossed me on the bed. Then, as he'd done earlier this
evening, he jumped on the bed straddling me. He was wearing nothing but a pair of briefs that were grey
with dirt and wear. His knees squeezed my sides and he kept one hand wrapped around my throat.
"ANSWER ME, YOU FUCKING BITCH! WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU DOING?"

"Getting some water!" I managed to say. It came out sounding almost like I was gurgling, but he
understood it.

His fingers loosened from around my throat and he stared down at me. "Why?"

"Because I was thirsty," I managed to choke out.

"So, you snuck out of my room, went to the bathroom to drink out of the fucking toilet?" He leaned back on
his heels, staring down at me in clear disbelief.
While he didn't seem quite as angry as he had been when he found me in the bathroom, I still didn't feel
safe. "Yes."

"For fuck's sake why?"

I continued to stare at him, unable to think of an answer that wouldn't risk pissing him off. I thought my
silence might also piss him off but he continued. "How fucking sick and desperate do you have to fucking be
to drink from the god damned toilet, bitch?"

Even terrified, I was shocked by this question. Here was a man who had a corpse in his bed until I'd
managed to knock it off, and he thought drinking toilet water was "sick and desperate?" Somewhere
through my terror, a small burst of anger sparked in me. Who the hell was he to call me sick? "I was
THIRSTY!" I rasped, unable to keep that seed of anger from making its presences known in my voice. "I
can't remember the last time I'd drank anything and I asked you for water earlier, and you told me no!"

He leaned back further, putting some of his weight on my upper legs. My left leg really didn't appreciate
this, but I don't believe he noticed or cared. "You were that thirsty?" he said, as if being thirsty was an
impossible human condition. "Thirsty enough to risk leaving my room and crazy enough to risk having me
catch you drinking from the fucking toilet? Christ, bitch, dogs drink from the toilet, but they've got
enzymes and shit in their saliva to protect them. You don't. You're just a dumb, stupid, whore. Why would
you risk your life to get a fucking drink from the god damned toilet? If not the damned germs, you should
have at least known you'd be in deep shit when I caught you."

"Because without water, I'll die," I said.

He climbed off me, off the bed, and started pacing around the room, like a caged tiger. "Bitch, you're going
to die anyway. You know that, don't you?" He paused to look at me. I nodded and he continued pacing. "So,
what's the point? Why didn't you just try to escape?"

"Cause you messed up my knee," I said. "I can't even walk."

He shrugged as if smashing my knee was nothing. "Anyone else would have tried. Stupid rabbits like to die
running. Gives them the feeling they're in control, that at least they died trying." He was pacing as he
said this, and I had the feeling that he wasn't expecting me to talk, so I remained still and silent. I just
laid on the bed and watched this wraith of a man, with his white hair and white skin, pacing around,
talking, wearing dirty, grey, underwear. If I didn't know what a sadistic son of a bitch he was, it would
have been almost amusing. Like a scene out of the worlds worst horror movie.

He whirled to face me. "If I bandaged your knee right now, tied something around it so you could walk on
it - not well, but at least some, would you run then?"

I shook my head.

"Why?"

"You'd catch me and kill me."

"You're going to die anyway!" he spoke as if I were a dimwitted child, not getting the point. "So, why not
try to run if you're given the chance?"

I swallowed. The water I'd drunk had helped a lot, but I wouldn't have minded some more. "If I run you
will kill me quickly. If I don't run, you might not kill me right away. I might survive."

"You can't survive," he said, his voice filed with scorn. "Don't you get it? YOU! WILL! DIE!"

I didn't answer immediately. Of course I knew I was going to die, I'd known that since Rufus had turned
down the side street, heading away from the gas station. I may not have been willing to face it, but deep
down I'd known, I wouldn't survive. All I was doing now was trying to gain more time. I might have tried
to play games, might have tried to tell myself that as long as I was alive, I had hope, but I knew they
were stupid games. I was going to die. But that didn't mean I was going to try to bring it about sooner
than I had to. Finally, I nodded. "Yeah, you're going to kill me," I whispered. "But that doesn't mean I
won't try to live."

I didn't see anything unusual in my behavior. Wouldn't anyone at least try? Weren't human beings
designed with a strong survival instinct? Yet, my resolve to try to hang on, even though it was hopeless,
seemed to baffle Otis. He stared at me, not only as if I were a dimwitted child, but a dimwitted child who
insisted on trying to put the square peg in the round hole. He paced around a bit more, then came over to
the bed and stared down at me. "Do not tell me you're one of those weird chicks who believes that just
because we fucked, we're now in love and should start a family. You're not one of those Susie Q
Homemakers, are you?"

I shook my head, unable to even imagine such a thing. He studied my face carefully, I guess to see if I
really meant that nod and wasn't in love with him. Finally he nodded. "I hate that shit." He went back to
pacing, but stopped again. "You one of those suicide whores?"

Again I shook my head, again he nodded. He paced again then stopped and looked at me. "Even though you
know you're going to die. Even though you know that things are going to get worse for you, never any
better, you're still willing to stay here and struggle to survive? Do whatever you can, even if that means
drinking from the god damned toilet like a dog?"

I hesitated, remembering my earlier resolve to die. I really believed I'd meant it then, but now I had
serious doubt. Did I want to die? Or was I willing to do whatever I could to cling to life? I think I was.
Even though I had told myself I was going to try to get the water only to give myself the strength to
end my life, I'd been trying to fool myself. I'd convinced myself of that, so I'd believe I wasn't completely
depraved, that there were levels I wouldn't sink to. Otis had made me do things I despised, things I'd
never even thought of doing before. Things that made me sick and ashamed, but I'd done them, and deep
down, I knew I could go even lower to save my life. Telling myself I was willing to kill myself to have
some type of control over my destiny? Bullshit. They were going to have to kill me. In the meantime, the
chances were that I would do anything they told me, as long as I was physically able. Looking at Otis, I
had the feeling that if he put his mind to it, he'd come up with stuff that made our little "Fuck the corpse
off the bed" game seem like "Pin the tail on the donkey."

He stared me in the eyes. I didn't flinch or let my gaze wander. "How far are you-" he began, then stopped.
"No, I don't want to know how far you'll go, 'cause I don't think you know." He turned away from me to
pace the room again. Then, he went over to the desk, opened it up and grabbed a notebook from the top
drawer and a pen. He brought the chair over, sat down and started writing furiously in the notebook.
I lay on the bed, trying not to move or make any noise. I had a feeling he'd forgotten I even existed right
now. Instead, I concentrated on taking short, quiet breaths.

When he finished writing, I noticed it was starting to look grey outside the window, the first signs of
dawn. He shoved the notebook back into the drawer, rose from the desk, and pulled the shades so the room
was dark. He changed into the same jeans and T-shirt he was wearing yesterday. When he was dressed, he
came over and looked down at me, sneering. "You look like shit."

I said nothing. Of course I looked like shit. My knee had begun swelling and my entire body was bruised
from our "fun and games" the night before. I couldn't see my face, but I could feel it and it didn't feel
pretty. My nose and lips were raw and puffy, I was betting I had a couple of nice shiners and probably a
broken nose. I just stared at him.

"You weren't anything to look at before, but now, now you look even worse," he said, as if my current
appearance had absolutely nothing to do with him. "I should kill you now. I'd be doing you a favor you
stupid, ugly, bitch."

He grabbed my T-shirt off the floor and ripped it in half, then used it to tie my arms above my head to
the headboard. I made no move to stop him, knowing it would do no good. "Do you know why I'm not
gagging you?" he asked.

"Because no one can hear," I said.

He nodded. "You're in Hell now, mama. In Hell, the screams of the damned mean nothing. So, if you want to
scream, go ahead." He stared at me, waiting to see if I'd take him up on his offer. I didn't. I was just too
tired and too sore. "Good. I hate it when dumb white bread bitches scream. Gotta let 'em sometimes, just
so they know it's useless, but that don't mean I don't hate it."

He pulled some rope out from under his bed and started tying down my legs. When he tied the left leg, I
had to bite my lip to keep from crying as he tugged on it, to make sure the rope was taut. "Pain," he said,
staring at me. "Lets you know you're alive."
I said nothing. He poked my knee, which sent waves of pain through me. "Pain lets you know you'r e alive,"
he repeated and poked it again.

Tears sprang to my eyes and I tried not to cry out. "You should be grateful," he said, poking my knee again.
"You stupid college graduate piece of shit ain't known you were alive for years. If you ever did. You know
you're alive now, right?" He poked the knee again. Every time he poked, it got just a tiny bit harder than
the time before, which made it more painful. "Right?"

I gasped in pain and pulled at the bindings on my arms, "Yes," I barely managed to choke out.

"Yes what?" he said, again poking the knee.

"Yes.. I know.. I'm alive," I managed to say, through the waves of pain. He was right about that, I didn't for
a moment, think I was dead.

"Thank me." He leaned over and whispered this in my ear, still poking at my knee.

I twisted helplessly, bound to the bed. "Thank you," I gasped.

"For what?" he whispered. His hot breath tickling the hairs in my ear as his finger kept poking at the knee.
Harder and longer each time.

"For...letting me know I'm alive," I spoke through gritted teeth.

He put his whole hand over the kneecap and squeezed, slowly but firmly. The pain that shot through me
was like nothing I could recall experiencing in my life. I wanted to scream and cry. If I could have ripped
off my leg with my bare hands I would have, just to stop the pain. I bit my lower lip so hard that blood
began trickling down my face. He leaned over and licked the blood off my chin, still squeezing my knee.
Then, he kissed me, sucking on that lip. I closed my eyes trying to will the pain in my knee to stop.

He stopped squeezing my knee when he broke off the kiss. Then he stood up and walked out of the room
without saying a word.

With all of his torture on my knee, I thought I'd be crying in agony for hours. Instead, exhaustion took
over and I fell asleep.

***************

AUTHOR'S NOTES Again, still waiting for the beta readers. It was suggested that maybe I should post
more of the story and put up the edited versions later. I might do that, if I feel that there is enough
interest in the story to warent it. So far, interest seems to be at bare minimum

Sincerest thanks to all of you who took the time to leave me feedback, it means a lot to me, I've been
wondering if anyone even reads this stuff. *Sigh* It's tough to be writing for what is obviously a very
small fandom.

Chapter 8: The Black Box

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil's
Rejects. I do not own most of these characters. They are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate films, and
whoever else holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan fiction, intended for the sole
purpose of entertainment. No one has been paid to write or host this story. No one is paid or will have to
pay to read it.

THE STORY ITSELF DISCLAIMER: This story is rated NC-17, for disturbing images and excessive violence
as much if not more than sexual contents. If stories involving murder, rape, extreme violence,
cannibalism, humiliation, and so on, are not your cup of tea, DO NOT READ IT. If you are under the age of
18 don't read it either.
Warning for this Chapter Rape by mention (meaning little to no detail). Compared to chapter 5 this one is
cake.

Chapter Eight

The Black Box

I don't know why Otis didn't kill me. He was certainly angry enough when he caught me in the bathroom,
and I feared that he didn't really need a reason to kill me. It appeared that Otis was the god-damned
leader of the revolution, if some of his talk the night before had been any indication. Leaders of the
rebellion/revolution don't need excuses to kill. Crazy people don't need excuses to kill either, so he had
both bases covered in that respect.

I had time to speculate in this new life, but it just seemed wrong to wonder why he hadn't killed me. Deep
down, I believed that if I were to figure it out, he'd know, and then there wouldn't be a reason to keep me
alive. Also, even though I was kept captive for what seemed like an age, time moved very oddly in that
house - at least, for me. Things that I'd previously never really given much thought to could take hours
in my new life. I learned not to dwell, but to live, totally in the moment.

I never told myself that he let me live because he liked me - I knew better than that. The only people
Otis liked were the other lunatics in the house he referred to as "his family". Everyone else in the human
race were nothing more than inferior creatures, existing for the sole purpose of relieving his boredom.
Poor Otis had a lot of boredom, being the only person capable of understanding how the world really
worked. The rest of us "inferior souls", locked into our conformist worlds, were really just begging to be
set free - we just didn't know it yet. Otis knew. Otis was the artist; Otis had the vision. Otis would take
the poor, mundane creatures we were, and transform our bodies into works of art that would suit his
whims, and the whims of whatever Gods he counted among his equals. Yeah, I know; what I just wrote
sounds crazy, but the scariest thing about Otis was that if you spent enough time with him, that sort of
stuff almost started to make sense. It was never crystal-clear, but there were times when I thought if I
were just that much smarter, I'd be able to understand.

In the beginning, during those first few days I was out of the basement cages, I fully expected to die at
any moment. When I began spending less and less time in the cages, I stopped worrying that death would
be so imminent. It could happen - every day, Hell, every second I was alive was, in a sense, borrowed-time.
But, Otis hadn't lost his temper and killed me yet, and the odds seemed to be in my favor that he wouldn't.
He continued to physically abuse me, but he never pushed it to the point of death, and it soon became
apparent that he was deliberately avoiding killing me directly. He never threatened me with a gun, and
when he used a razor or knife, he made sure to use an area where I'd be hurt, but not bleed to death.
Later, I would begin to again believe he would kill me, but that would be awhile in coming. I figured I'd be
most likely to die from malnutrition, starvation, dehydration, infection, or internal injury. Certainly,
nobody in the house went out of their way to make sure I was cared for - I had to learn how to do that
myself.

Other members of the household (I would find out later that there were six altogether; at that point, I'd
still not seen or met Mama and Grandpa) might have killed me, but they didn't. Nothing was ever said
about it formally - at least, not in front of me - but I got the feeling that when Baby brought me up to
Otis's room that night, I became his. If I were to do something stupid - like, try to escape, or attempt to
hurt another family member - then they would kill me, but as long as I wasn't creating any problems,
then I wasn't their concern.

That first morning, I woke up when Otis returned to the room. As I opened my eyes, I saw that Tiny was
with him. Otis disappeared behind the curtain that led to his studio. Tiny came over to the bed, grabbed
the corpse, and dragged it out of the room. I half-expected him to come back to bring me to the cages
again, but he just removed the one corpse. He looked down at me for a while, as if he was surprised to see
that I was alive, before going back to the task at hand.

After a while, Otis came out from his studio, and paced around the room. "Blocked, blocked, blocked,
blocked!" he cried out, slapping his head. "I thought Katmandu was my break-through, but I'm blocked
again!" He stormed from the room.

He returned a few minutes later with Rufus. "Take Katman here and see if Spaulding wants it," he said, "I
think it's ruining my inspiration, I need it out of here."

Rufus nodded, and headed into the studio. Otis looked over at me, annoyed, as if he'd forgotten I was
there. When Rufus came out with Katmandu and headed for the door, Otis stopped him. "Rufus, I need you
to make something for me."

Rufus stopped. "What?"

"A box," Otis said. "About.. four-to-five feet long, and three-feet-wide or so. And about this deep." He
gestured a span of about two-feet with his hands. "Make it so it locks down tight from the outside."

Rufus nodded. "That it?"

"Yeah, make sure it'll fit under my bed." A slow, unpleasant grin curled across his lips as he said this.

Rufus nodded as he left, taking the grisly statue from the room. Once he was gone, Otis came over and
raped me. He didn't play any games with me. He didn't talk to me, either; he just took off his pants, climbed
between my legs, slammed himself inside of me, and rode me. He didn't remove his shirt, or even his
underwear. He didn't make any noise, either - except for some heavy breathing and a grunting sound when
he climaxed. The entire time, he behaved as if this was a slightly unpleasant task that he just wanted to
finish, so he could move on to other things.

When he was done, he climbed off me and pulled his pants back on. He started to untie me, and I said
nothing. I hardly dared to breathe as he undid the knots that tied me to the bed. Part of me wanted to
hope that he was going to let me leave, but I knew better. I just didn't know what game he was playing.

When I was untied, he pulled a straight razor from his pocket, and opened it. The blood drained from my
face as he reached out. I exhaled slowly when instead of me he grabed my jeans from the floor. With one
swift motion, he cut one leg off, then he flipped the razor around in his hand until it snapped shut. When
it disappeard into the blade holder, I nearly smiled. I looked at him nervously, afraid that he'd seen my
smile, but I don't think he was aware of me. He took the cloth he'd cut from my jeans and began to wrap it
around my left knee, tying it tightly. He moved fast while he did this, and I barely had time to register
what he was doing before the pain went shooting up my leg. Unable to stop myself, I cried out.

"Oh, shut up," he snapped. "I'm trying to help, you stupid maggot."

I doubted that he would ever do anything to help me, but once he finished tying off the bandage, and the
initial rush of pain passed over me, my knee felt better. I took a deep breath, waiting for the relief to
end, figuring that it would hurt even more. That seemed like the type of sadistic game that Otis would
play with me. After a minute had passed without the pain getting worse, I whispered, "Th-thank you",
completely unable to stop myself.
"Thank you," he insultingly mimicked me, rolling his eyes as if hearing those words was a burden to him.
"Get up."

"What?"

"Get. Up." He shook his head. "Which word are you having trouble with? By get, I mean rise; up, meaning on
your feet; get up, meaning, get your stupid fat-ass off my bed."

I did as he demanded I do. The bandaging of my knee made it more bearable, but I wasn't sure how long it
would help to support me.

"Okay, start walking." He came up behind me. "C'mon, we're leaving the room."

I carefully limped out of the room. "Turn right," Otis directed me. I did as he asked. I was able to walk on
my left leg now, but not well or quickly. As I walked down the hall, Otis did a lot of sighing behind me, as
if this was a terrible burden he'd been forced to put up with.

He guided me to the bathroom. "You have five minutes to do what you have to in here," he said. "I'm not
havin' you pissin' and shittin' on my bed, so take care of what you gotta take care of. I'll be out in the hall
waiting." He turned and left, shutting the door behind him.

I was dumbstruck by this. Not by the fact that he brought me here, his motives for that were obvious - he
didn't want me to mess up his bed. What shocked me was that he was leaving me alone in here. I expected
him to stay, just to make sure I didn't try anything dumb.
I might have wasted a minute or more considering his motives, when my brain clicked and told me I only
had a short time left. Standing, I could turn on the faucet, and then I leaned over and drank directly
from the spigot. I drank as much as I could.

When I was done sating my thirst, I opened up the medicine chest. I grabbed a bottle of asprin I saw,
opened it up and took three of them. I saw a tube of toothpaste and wondered if I could eat it. I'd always
heard that too much toothpaste was poisonous, but I was also pretty hungry. I squeezed a tiny bit on my
finger and ate that, drinking more water to wash it down. It went down a little rough on my stomach, so
I decided not to eat any more.

I took care of everything I could in there. I don't think I ever appreciated a bathroom more in my life. I
was able to drink water, use a toilet, wash my hands - all the things I used to take for granted. If I'd had
the time, I'd have taken a shower, but I didn't want to risk that.

I assume it was five minutes later when Otis opened the door. My gut was full of water, which helped
stop the hunger-pains for the time being. For a moment, I was really grateful to Otis for letting me use
the bathroom - then I heard the voice in my head: Grateful? For what? He's beaten you, raped you, said
he's going to kill you. So you're happy he let you pee? He only did that so you wouldn't mess up his bed. His
bed that's had a corpse in it, remember? Still, it wouldn't hurt to let him think I was appreciative - it
might even help. "Thank you," I said.

If he heard my words of gratitude, he chose not to acknowledge them. "C'mon, Chunky, back to the room."

We returned to his bedroom, and he tied me to the bed again. With the water fooling my stomach that it
was full, and the aspirin helping with the pain in my leg, I fell asleep.

**********

I woke up to the sound of something being dragged across the floor. I opened my eyes to see Rufus,
bringing in the box that Otis had asked him to make. As Rufus lugged it into the room, Otis came out from
his studio.
"Box," Rufus said, in his usual chatty ways.

"Thanks. Let's see if it fits under the bed."

I stared at it, noticing that it looked an awful lot like a homemade coffin. When Otis had asked Rufus to
make it, I'd had a feeling that I knew what it was meant to be used for, but I'd refused to think about it.
Now that I was seeing the final product, my worries resurfaced.

Rufus put the box down near the bed, and then, with his foot, pushed it under the bed. Otis nodded. "I'll
have to pull it out every time I want to use it, right?"

Rufus shook his head and knelt down by the bed. Otis joined him. I could hear scraping noises, but I
couldn't see what they were doing. Whatever it was, Otis was pleased. "Yeah, that's great. Now, can you
drill a hole right about here?"

I saw Rufus's head nod in agreement. Otis got up, went to his studio, and returning with a with a drill,
which he handed to Rufus. "Seems wrong to be using this for something other than my art, but aw, what
the hell. Once won't hurt."

I heard the noise of the drill; then, I saw Rufus hand the drill back to Otis, who returned it to his studio.
While he did that, Rufus stood up and stared down at me. I sensed that he was slightly puzzled by my
existence. He said nothing though, just stared at me, then turned and left.

When Otis came out from the studio, he untied me again. "C'mere," he ordered, kneeling down by the bed.

I knew I couldn't kneel, so I slid myself down into a sitting position. I could see the box under the bed.
There was a small hole drilled into the side of it, near the top.
Otis undid a couple of brass-snaps, and then lowered the side. I could see inside the box now, and it looked
really dark. "You know what this is for, don't you?"

I nodded.

The nod wasn't enough. "Well, tell me then."

"For me," I said.

It was his turn to nod; then he added, "And why do you belong in that box?"

I didn't believe that telling him he was a psychopathic monster who makes makes Norman Bates look like
a boy-scout was the answer he was looking for. So, I bit my lip and thought about everything he'd said to
me so far, trying to provide a clever-enough response.

"Are you that stupid?" he asked, when I didn't respond. "Is your mind so full of whimsical fallacies that
you fail to see the simplest of ideas?" His eyes narrowed and he started to get that look he would get
before he started beating on me. That look that told me I was pissing him off.

My mind scrambled to come up with an answer that he might buy. My knee started to throb again and it
reminded me of when he'd squeezed and poked my knee earlier in the day. He'd told me something before
he left me - something about the pain. I gulped. "It's a coffin," I said.

"We know what it is," Otis said, rolling his eyes. "Whatis not the question. The question here is why? Why
should you be kept in this box?"
"Because I've been dead," I said, forcing myself to look at him. "My life has been too.. um.. full of capricious
fallacies and whimsical deceptions of soul."

A strange light began to gleam in his eyes and he nodded, motioning with his hand for me to continue.

".. and if I've been dead all my life, I should have been in a coffin," I continued. "I need to be in it now,
because.. I need to understand what my dead imitation of life has been all about."

"You almost have it," he said. The word "almost" made me cringe, believing that "almost" wasn't good
enough for Otis; but it seemed that, for someone as capricious and whimsical as me, "almost" was okay - at
least, for now. "Maybe it will become clearer to you when you finally fulfill your destiny. Get in the box."

I laid down on the floor and scooted myself inside the box. It wasn't long enough for me to stretch out to
my full length. I had to curl up on my side. I closed my eyes, trying not to be afraid. "It's just a box, it's
just a box," my thoughts repeated. "It's better than being dead."

Otis shut me into the box. Light came from the hole Rufus had drilled into the side, and that faint bit of
light comforted me. I stared at it, trying to see whatever I could through it.

I heard Otis get up and begin fumbling around with the bed. I saw the comforter drop over the side of the
bed just before I was plunged into complete blackness.

End of Chapter Eight

********************
Author's Notes: You're probably tired of hearing this, but at this point, I believe my beta readers have
completely abandoned me, for reasons, I have no clue. Which means I can either find new beta readers, or
start posting the story in unbeta format, and pray it isn't too riddled with mistakes for the readers to be
able to understand what's going on.

I'm not sure what I want to do. I hate the idea of putting something up in "raw" format, but if I feel
enough people are willing to at least give it a shot, I'll try it.

Special thanks for all of you who've left feedback to encourage me, I really do appreciate it. Mileni,
thanks for your emails, they've helped a lot when I've been just about to erase the whole story off my
hard drive. Firefly lover, thank you too, for all your encouragement. And Eggy, I appreciate what you've
had to say too. And of course, Maiafay.. all of you have been wonderful. I only wish I had a better way to
thank you than just words on a computer screen.

On The Edge Of Survival

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses or The

Devil's Rejects. I do not own most of these characters. They are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate

films, and whoever else holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan fiction, intended

for the sole purpose of entertainment. No one has been paid to write or host this story. No one is paid

or will have to pay to read it.

THE STORY ITSELF DISCLAIMER: This story is rated NC-17, for disturbing images and excessive

violence as much if not more than sexual contents. If stories involving murder, rape, extreme violence,

cannibalism, humiliation, and so on, are not your cup of tea, DO NOT READ IT. If you are under the age

of 18 don't read it either.

Specific Chapter Warning: Violence, implied necrophilia, implied rape.

Chapter Nine

On The Edge Of Survival

I never would have believed it the first time, but I discovered there were advantages to the box. Not
when I had to be inside it - that was a terror I never got used to, I just learned to accept it. The
advantages came once I was removed from the box, because Otis would often not even bother to tie me up.
This was good for my arms and legs, of course - but it also allowed me a certain bit of freedom.

Life fell into a strange pattern for a while. He would let me out of the box, often just throwing open the
lid and pulling me out like I was a rag doll. Sometimes his force was immediate and he would rape me,
beat me, or yell at me. Sometimes he'd let me out and then just walk away. Sometimes he even took me to
the bathroom right after letting me out. I was always told I' d get five minutes in the bathroom; I
suspect he cut that time short. A couple of times, I took some aspirin - but someone must have realized I
was doing that, because the bottle of aspirin disappeared.

When I was lucky enough to get a trip to the bathroom, I would drink water, use the toilet, and wash my
wounds as best I could. I never tried to take a shower or a bath - not enough time. When Otis decided I
was finished, he would walk right in and grab me in the middle of whatever I happened to be doing, and
then take me back to his room. Sometimes he'd make me get back into the box, but frequently he would
disappear into his studio, or leave the room completely, to do whatever he did when he wasn't in his
room.

In the beginning, I never left the room; I was afraid if he caught me it would be the end of me. I would
lie on the bed, wondering if I'd be lucky enough to get some food that day. The second time he removed
me from the box, I was so hungry that I begged him for food. He ranted, raved, and went ballistic, telling
me how fat I was, before punching me in the stomach. Then he left the room quickly and returned a few
minutes later, with half an apple, and a few pieces of what looked like dried leather. He dumped them on
the bed, sneered at me and then disappeared into his studio. I didn't see him for hours.
I pounced on the apple and ate it first; seeds, core, and all. I stared at the leathery-looking things,
eventually picking one up and sniffing it. It smelled like dried meat. Since I had seen cows outside when
Rufus brought me here, I was optimistic it was beef jerky, and ate two pieces. The third piece, I slipped
into my box for later. If it wasn't beef jerky, I don't want to know or guess what it was.

I was always hopeful that he'd remember to feed me after that. I shouldn't have been. I was hopeful he
would respond positively when I asked him for food. I shouldn't have been. Otis was a time bomb; I never
knew how he'd react to anything. He might bring me food. or he might slap me around instead. Otis never
worried much about eating himself, so it never occurred to him that others might need to eat.

Sometimes, when he took me out of the box, he'd talk to me. Maybe I should say, he talked at me. He would
rant and rave, telling me all sorts of strange things - most of which made no sense - but always sounded
as if I was a little less stupid, I'd understand what he was saying. It was frustrating, and there were
times when I thought there really was something wrong with me, or I'd be able to understand.

He brought other people up to the room. I was usually in my box when this happened, and I would lie
there in the dark, trying to pretend I wasn't hearing screams for mercy, or muffled cries of fear from
someone gagged and tortured. When I was let out of the box, I would avoid looking at the corpses on the
bed. If I could, I'd sit on the floor so I wouldn't have to touch them. I tried to ignore it when he used
them for sex. If one made it through the night, I tried to ignore it when they stared at me, as if they
thought I could help them. I was just as much a victim as they were - what could I do?

Sometimes I felt as though Otis would forget about me, or believe that I was more of an inconvenience
than something to entertain. I often believed his thoughts were, "girl in a coffin-box, under the bed. Let
her out once in awhile, but don't worry about her." Sometimes days would go by when he would forget to
let me out. I could always hear him moving around. On those long days, I feared he had forgotten me
completely, and that I'd die in the box. Then, other times, he'd drag me out so he could rape me, abuse me,
and lecture me; as if I were a burden he was forced to deal with - a tiresome, disobedient pet that he had
to discipline.

What bothered me most was not knowing, which was worse - being abused, or being neglected. Part of me
believes it was being neglected. There were times when he'd let me out of the box after having left me
there for over a day, and I almost felt happy to see him. I'd need to remind myself that he was insane and
could kill me at any moment - for no other reason than: I existed. But, there were still moments when
being yelled at, was much more tolerable than being ignored.
It was during one of his stages of ignoring me when I started leaving the room. At first, it was only to
use the bathroom, and I was careful to do it only when he had left the room. I'd hurry down the hall
with my bad knee, do what I had to do, drink a lot of water, and scurry clumsily back to the room.

One time when I returned he was already back in the room, banging the girl he'd killed the night before.
He didn't even stop when I entered the room. When he finally finished, he didn't even look my way; got
up, got dressed, and left the room. He returned two hours later, raped me, and then disappeared back into
his studio.

After that, I was bolder. I'd slip out of his room when he was working in his studio. Then, I began slipping
out when he was just sitting at the desk writing furiously, or even going-to-town on his latest dead-
girlfriend. At first, I only went to the bathroom and came right back. Then one day, Baby caught me in
the hallway.

"Oh, it's you! C'mon to my room." She grabbed me by the arm and started pulling me.

"Otis," I said, beginning to panic. "I can't-"

"Don't be silly! He won't mind. C'mon!"

She acted like I was Otis's girlfriend, and she was the baby sister who wanted to play. I was afraid if I
refused her, she'd get mean. So I went along, hoping she was right about Otis not minding.

She took me into her room and sat me down on the bed. For the next hour or so, she treated me like a life-
sized doll, or sometimes a new playmate. She put gobs of makeup on my face and then had me do the same
to hers. My hair, she wouldn't touch. "It's so nasty! You should take a shower!" I thought about telling her
that Otis wasn't really giving me much time to shower, but thought better of it. I did brush her hair and
put it in a French braid - about the only hair style I knew how to do. She giggled over it and said I did a
good job, but that it really didn't suit her. I agreed, it really wasn't her style. She tried on various
outfits strewn about the place and asked for my opinion on them. She never suggested I try on anything,
and I knew why; letting me get dressed might make me think I was human again. As long as I was naked, I
wasn't one of "them."
If it wasn't for the stench of a rotting corpse lying in the corner of the room, or that I was naked,
bruised, and covered with blood, sweat, and grime; we might have looked like ordinary girlfriends
spending an afternoon together.

I made sure to stay on Baby's good side. I agreed with everything she said, and greeted every new
suggestion and idea she had for entertainment with as much enthusiasm as possible.

When my stomach growled, she left the room and returned a few minutes later, with a couple of cans of
root-beer, and a bowl of pretzels. It took my entire resolve not to start grabbing handfuls of the pretzels
and shoving them in my face.

She told me she wanted to be an actress, and I told her that she was pretty enough to be one. That's no lie
either; Baby was beautiful. I think she knew she was beautiful too, but she liked to hear it as well. "Do you
really think so?"

"Yes," I said, as I took a couple of pretzels from the bowl and put them in my mouth. "You're prettier than
most of the movie stars I've seen. You're prettier than that Farrah Fawcett woman, on Charlie's Angels."

Her face lit up like a Christmas tree when I said that. "Mama says I've always looked like an angel! I
should have gotten that part, not her. I'll bet she only got it because her husband is worth six-million
bucks!"

I didn't point out to her that before she could become an actress, she might have to leave Texas, possibly
take acting-lessons, and maybe cut back on all this random kidnapping-and-killing that she and her family
did. I just nodded and said, "I'll bet you'd be just as good in the part as she is, if not better."

This really pleased her and she pushed the half-eaten bowl of pretzels over to me. "You can finish them if
you want."
That made me realize, Baby was more aware than she let on. She knew that I was half-starved, she knew
what her family was doing, and she knew what Otis, in particular, was doing to me. I wondered, at times,
if Baby was maybe mentally retarded, but I was starting to see that she wasn't. She came across like, "I'm
such an innocent", but it was all a game; she liked being the pampered baby of the family, so she acted as if
she was still a child.

I stayed in her room with her until her Mama called for her. She showed me out of the room, and
suggested that we get together again. The whole scenario was tinged with a feeling of unreality. I was
kidnapped and being held prisoner in this house, and yet Baby was treating me like I was a guest - or at
the least, someone here of my own free will.

I returned to Otis's room. He was writing in one of his notebooks, and didn't seem to even notice I'd left
or returned.

After that, I got bolder when I was out of the box. I started sneaking downstairs and, when I could,
pilfered food. I never found enough to feel full, but I could sneak bits here and there. And, if I wasn't too
proud, and I never was, I could usually sneak food from one of the dogs' dishes. Dry dog-food doesn't taste
nearly as bad as you might think, and often the family threw table-scraps in with the food.

I was very careful when I looked for food, because I was terrified of what might happen if I was caught;
fortunately, I never was. I was often seen downstairs by family members, and, most of the time, they
acted as if I wasn't really there, or as if I were a stray dog Otis might have taken in. Like having a
bruised-up, dirty, naked woman sneaking about the house was perfectly normal. On occasion, someone
would acknowledge me, and when they did, it was usually rather weird.

Mama would sometimes talk to me, telling me about the "old days" when she was quite-the-thing in these
parts. When she did talk to me, she'd offer me cigarettes (which I always declined), or a cup of tea (which
I'd accept.) Once, she even gave me a freshly-baked blueberry-muffin. It took everything I had to eat it
slowly. She gave me a glass of milk to go with it. That was the best day I'd had since I'd been brought
there. It was the first time, in a long time, that I'd felt something close to human.

Grandpa was another family member who would sometimes talk to me when he saw me slinking around
the house. He'd tell me jokes, and, if I was close enough, feel me up. I learned to laugh at his jokes, even
though I didn't find them funny, and I would just blank out the groping until he tired of it. I'd been raped
by Otis so many times that Grandpa's fumbling was almost comical. He never did it for long, and usually
ended by griping about being old and unable to "get the rooster to crow." I wasn't sure if that meant he
couldn't get it up, or he couldn't get it off, and I didn't want to ask.

One time, Tiny found me rummaging under the sofa, looking for dropped popcorn or other snack-foods.
When I heard him come in, I quickly moved and tried to look as if I were just sitting on the floor, next to
the sofa. No-one else was in the room. Tiny sat down on the sofa and turned on the TV. He flicked through
the stations until he found one on UHF that was playing "Casper the Friendly Ghost". I sat there,
wondering if I should scurry back to Otis's room. Then, Tiny reached down, and started stroking my hair.
I was terrified at first, wondering what he'd do next but I realized that he wasn't trying to hurt me, he
was just petting me, like he might pet a cat or a dog. I didn't want to stop him, and strangely enough, it
was sort of comforting; so I just sat there, letting him pet my greasy, filthy hair, and scratching around
my ears.

When the show ended, he gave my head one last pat, then rose from the sofa and wandered off. I sat by
the couch for a few more minutes, before I made my way back to Otis's room.

I never tried to escape, because I knew it was useless. The house was miles from nowhere, and my knee
never did heal enough so that I could walk on it without pain. Also - with Otis's regular beatings, there
was always something aching on my body. I knew that if I tried to escape, I would be caught, no question
about it. And, I knew that, once caught, I would die.

I never tried to arm myself, even though I always saw an available weapon. I didn't know how to use a
gun, or a knife like all of these people did. I was one lone person against six: even if I managed to kill one
person, I'd have five others ready to gut me.

Sometimes, rather than just rape me, or lecture me, Otis would tell me how useless I was. More than that,
he'd make me agree with him and repeat what he had to say.

"You're the dumbest fucking slut that ever lived," he'd say.

"Yes."
"Yes what?" He'd look at me, his head tipped ever so slightly, no trace of a smile, just a faint gleam in his
eyes.

"Yes, I am the dumbest fucking slut that ever lived."

He'd nod and start on something else about me. "You're the ugliest bitch I've ever seen."

"I'm the ugliest bitch you've ever seen."

"Louder, bitch, say it like you mean it."

"I'M THE UGLIEST BITCH YOU'VE EVER SEEN!"

"You're lucky I haven't killed you."

"I'm so lucky you haven't killed me."

At first, it was like having an annoying sibling. I grew up as an only child, but I did have older cousins
who would play these types of games, trying to get me to say terrible things about myself. I wondered if
Otis may never have outgrown that immature stage, but then I realized what he was doing was deeper
than any kid's game. He was tearing me down. If he got me to say all these negative things about myself
enough, chances were fair I would start to believe it. I did start to believe that I was useless. I was too
stupid to understand what he was saying to me; I was too ugly for him to look at for any length of time;
that's why he had to lock me in the box. Clearly, I was a slut too; otherwise, why would he rape me so
often? Surely, even if I didn't realize it, I was sending out signals that I needed to be sexually abused,
right? I didn't even realize it, but I was trying to adapt to my strange, new life, I was seeking reasons to
justify it, blaming myself for everything. If it was my fault, then I had some control, right?
One day, after letting me out of the box to use the bathroom, when I returned he locked me back in it
right away, which was a bit unusual. I heard him moving around; then, I knew he left, because I heard the
opening and closing of the door. The night before, he'd been pretty rough on me; raping me, hitting me, and
yelling at me. I must have been more tired by this than I thought, because I fell asleep almost right
away, into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next thing I knew, Otis was opening the box and hauling me out by the arm. He pulled me to my feet
and looked me over. "You fuckin' stink," he said. "I could smell you when I walked in the room, even in
your box, you still stink to high-fuckin'-hell!"

I was mortified. If he could smell me over the smell of death that lingered in this room, then I must be
pretty putrid. Tiny had been up earlier and had removed the corpses that had been in the room; but still,
with all the death this room had seen and held, the smell was always there. "I'm sorry," I said, keeping my
eyes downcast.

"Sorry? What-the-fuck-good is sorry gonna do?" He grabbed me by the arm and started dragging me out
of the room. I started noticing I wasn't the only one who was a bit fragrant this evening. He reeked of
alcohol, more than he usually did. Otis always did a fair bit of drinking, but until tonight, I'd never really
seen him drunk. He almost staggered as he pulled me down the hall and into the bathroom.

"Do you know what that is?" He pointed to the tub.

"A bathtub and, um, a shower," I answered.

He nodded. "Do you know how to use one, you smelly, stupid, ugly, stinky-assed fucking Bitch?" When I
nodded, he nodded as well. "Good. Use it. When you're done, get your ass back into my room." He didn't
wait for me to answer, but walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

This was my first chance to take a shower since I'd gotten here. I really wish I could have enjoyed it, but
I was terrified that I'd take too long and Otis would come looking for me; so I tried to rush through it,
while getting as clean as possible. There was a bottle of shampoo on the floor near the tub so I used that
on my hair. I didn't have a washcloth, so I used soap and my hands to scrub off the dirt, blood, and semen
from my skin.

I got as clean as possible in the shortest amount of time, and got out of the shower. Otis hadn't left me a
towel, and I wasn't going to use any of the ones hanging up in there, and risk pissing someone off. So, I
wiped myself off with my hands, and ran my fingers through my hair. I couldn't really do much with the
hair; it was so tangled from weeks without a comb that nothing would untangle it. When I was as
presentable as I knew I was going to get, I hurried back to Otis's room, terrified, and curious about what
he had in store for me now.

End of Chapter Nine

Chapter ten teaser What could Otis be planning for this girl now? And are we ever going to find out
what's carved into her thigh? One of those questions will be answered in the next chapter. No, they won't
be playing chess.

*****************************

Author's Notes: Thanks again to everyone who has taken the time to read this and especially those who
have taken the time to leave comments. Eggy, I know I forgot to mention you by name before, so I'll
correct that oversight now. Thank you!

I'm The One That You Wanted

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil's
Rejects. I do not own most of these characters. They are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate films, and
whoever else holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan fiction, intended for the sole
purpose of entertainment. No one has been paid to write or host this story. No one is paid or will have to
pay to read it.

THE STORY ITSELF DISCLAIMER: This story is rated NC-17, for disturbing images and excessive violence
as much if not more than sexual contents. If stories involving murder, rape, extreme violence,
cannibalism, humiliation, and so on, are not your cup of tea, DO NOT READ IT. If you are under the age of
18 don't read it either.
This chapter is an edited repost
Specific Chapter Warning: M/F, oral, n/c, reluc.

Chapter Ten

I'm The One That You wanted

When I returned to Otis's room, I noticed some changes from when I was dragged out of the box earlier.
The window was open; that was a refreshing change from the rot and decay that normally hung in the
air. The pile of dirty clothes that had been strewn in the corner since that first day had vanished. The
bed was also properly made and appeared to have clean sheets. I don't know if Otis had done this domestic
duty, or if another family member, Mama, had decided it was time and did it herself. This didn't make me
as happy as it should have. You'd think, after all the squalor and filth, I'd have been thrilled. I'd had a
shower, and now the room was somewhat clean, too. But the changes made me uncomfortable; was
something new to be expected of me? The Otis before was bad enough, but an Otis who reeked of booze and
kept a clean room? What was this Otis going to do to me?

He was standing by the window when I came in, wearing nothing but a pair of threadbare , relatively
clean-looking jeans. When he saw me, he looked me over, a slow smile spreading over his lips. "Not bad," he
said as he nodded.

I stood, frozen, afraid to move until I knew what he wanted of me. He had a look in his eyes I wasn't used
to. It reminded me a bit of the look he had in his eyes the night Baby brought me up to him - that half-
amused, predatory look - but tonight, his eyes were more somber and crazed. He crossed the room in two
quick strides and stood in front of me. "Turn around," he hissed.

I didn't want to turn my back to him, but I wasn't about to disobey him so I turned around. He moved
closer, so that he was right behind me. I half-expected him to wrap his hands around my throat; instead,
he slipped his arms around my waist and pulled me close, so that my back pressed into his chest and
stomach. I drew in a sharp, almost whimpered breath, and wondered what game this was; all I knew was
that it couldn't be good for me.
"Shh," he whispered into my ear, his voice low. "It's okay." If it were anyone else saying this, I might have
been comforted, but it was difficult to be reassured by a murdering rapist and my constant assailant. As
he spoke, his hands wandered over my stomach and across my ribs, slowly and gently. His hands weren't
soft - callouses lined his fingertips and palms - but he moved these hands so slowly, and so gently, that
there was something almost sensual in the motions.

He pulled me into him, continuing to feel my ribs and stomach. I kept expecting his hands to move, but he
was confining himself to my stomach. My body trembled. "Just relax," he whispered, lips so close I could
feel them tickling my ear. "Close your eyes."

I'd learned not to refuse anything he asked of me, so, even in my fear of the situation, I did as he asked of
me. The moment my lids were closed, he drew my earlobe into his mouth and nipped at it. A jolt shot
through me and my body trembled again. The nip was gentle; his teeth were barely scraping along the
soft skin of my earlobe. My legs wanted to fold, but I willed them not to. He drew his attention away
from my earlobe, and started to kiss my neck; soft, gentle kisses. He kissed from the base of my ear, down,
and across to my throat. Then he kissed the tiny hollow in my throat, and drew his tongue up, across the
area he'd just kissed. Then, he did the same to other side. When he licked up to the other ear, he nipped at
that earlobe just as he had with the other. "Does this feel good?" he asked, his whispered breath tickling
the inside of my ear, sending shivers up my spine.

I didn't want to anger or displease him, still, I told him the truth. "Yes."

He paused, then shifted slightly and began to kiss down my neck. As he kissed along my throat, I caught
the scent of baby shampoo - the same stuff I'd washed my hair with a few minutes ago. Apparently, I
wasn't the only one to get cleaned up. His hands were still wandering over my stomach and ribs, but they
began to move lower, across to my hips, and higher, between my breasts.

I was terrified. Not because I didn't know why he was doing this to me, but afraid for what I was feeling
- for what he was making me feel. I knew this man intimately; I'd seen all the bits of him that made him
male, countless times. I'd felt him inside me; I was even the one to help put him there the first time. I
didn't think there could be anything about him that was a mystery - not anymore. I knew the scars on his
body, the bumps, the tattoos, and all his imperfections. I think I even believed that I had a pretty good
grasp of Otis mentally too. He was a sicko, a psycho, and a madman. The few times he'd shown me anything
remotely akin to kindness he'd done it grudgingly, as if it irritated him to be nice. Although his
personality traits weren't pleasant or fun, at least I knew them. I learned to know what to expect.
But, who was this Otis? Who was this man whose touch caused me to shiver, instead of quaking in fear?
What was he doing that made it so that my body, instead of being afraid of his touch, was becoming more
afraid that he would stop? What games did this Otis play? Would he continue this game of luring my
body to respond, so that when I finally gave in and let my guard down, he could then snap my neck?

"Relax," he whispered again, all the while kissing my neck. His right hand moved over so it was cupping my
left breast. A gasp slipped from my lips as I remembered how he'd mauled my breasts the first night we'd
spent together, but tonight he was gentle. "You're so tense," he said, as his thumb traced around my nipple.
When my nipple stiffened under his touch, I tried to tell myself it was cold in the room, ignoring the fact
that the other nipple didn't seem to be affected by this sudden chill in the room.

"You got a boyfriend?" he whispered, as his other hand ran down my stomach, moving slowly further
down. "Someone whose touch you're missing? Someone who's gonna miss you when you're dead?"

"No." I was amazed at the normality of my voice. Though it was a bit unsteady, the fact that I could talk
at all seemed like a miracle. His hands, his lips, his tongue, all moving over me at once, so slowly and
methodically that it was the scariest experience I'd ever had.

"I didn't think you were a virgin before I took you." His one hand continued to move down, past my belly
to my thighs, while his other hand moved to my other breast and began to tease that nipple. "Then again,
with the blood we used for lube, it would have been hard to tell."

I should have been revolted by his words, especially being reminded of when he'd forced me to take the
lead in my own rape, and what he'd forced me to do. That reminder should have made me burn with anger,
made me upset, made me hate him for what he had done to me and what he was doing to me now.

Instead, I leaned into him, unable to stop my legs from trembling. He stumbled slightly, obviously not
expecting me to do that - but he caught himself, and me. "Easy, little whore, easy." He turned me around so
I was facing him. "Maybe we'd better get you off your feet," he grinned, as he wrapped his arms around me,
slid them under my ass and pulled me into him. Then, he leaned down, put his mouth over mine, and kissed
me.

This kiss wasn't like any kiss he'd given me before. Usually his kisses were dominating, demanding, and
cruel. He liked to force his tongue in my mouth until I'd feel like I was going to gag on it. He'd press his
lips so hard to mine that when he was done with me, it felt as if I'd been whacked in the mouth instead of
kissed.

This kiss was completely different. There was a sense of urgency about the kiss, but it wasn't forceful.
Instead of invading my mouth with his tongue, he eased it in, exploring my mouth with it, until my own
tongue was playfully exploring his mouth. I felt like he was devouring me - not out of psychotic, sadistic
cruelty - but out of pure need.

As we kissed, he led me to the bed. His hands were running down my back, over my ass. When we got to
the bed, still kissing, he guided me down on it, and then carefully climbed on top of me. He didn't need to
push me or arrange my legs as he usually did; I spread them willingly so he could lay between them. He
pressed his groin to mine, slowly, as he continued to kiss me. Just like that first night, I felt his arousal
through the denim and cotton, but tonight, even that was different. I found myself pressing up to meet
him. I found my hands moving over his back, as his hands moved slowly up and down my sides.

When he broke off the kiss, I was ashamed at how I moved my head, trying to lure his mouth back to
mine. Even worse than that, I think he knew. He grinned down at me. "So, was I your first?"

I shook my head. "How many before me?" he asked, as he started kissing down my neck.

"One," I whispered.

"Serious?" he asked, leaving a trail of kisses down my neck.

I was gasping at the fire-and-ice effect his lips were having on my skin. "Yes," I managed to say.

"What happened?" He started kissing my right breast, lightly, slowly caressing my skin with his lips.
His voice sounded so normal, I was almost insulted by the lack of effect I was having on him, save for the
hardness of his groin pressed to mine. Even with the denim and cotton keeping the beast at bay, it was
obvious the kissing and groping was getting a rise out of him. "J-just didn't work out," I whispered, sinking
my head into the pillows. The bed smelled of sun-dried linen instead of the usual rotten decay. Even the
quilt had been washed, and smelled as if it had spent most of the day on a clothesline. "We broke.. up . .
just.. before.. graduation."

"What was his name?"

"Danny."

The name of my former lover was barely out of my mouth, when Otis's lips wrapped around my left nipple
and he began sucking on it gently. A small cry sprang from my lips.

There was no more talking for awhile as Otis gave his full attention to my breasts; kissing, licking, and
gently nipping at them. Tiny, kitten-like noises were coming from within my throat, and my hands were
moving up and down his back, through his hair, unleashed, as if they had a mind of their own.

After giving my breasts more than ample attention, Otis started kissing my chest, and down across my
stomach. "Did you love him?" he whispered, between the kisses and licks.

It took me a moment to remember he meant Danny. "Uh.. I thought I did. I think I did then." I paused to
gasp as he started kissing around my navel. "But.. it just didn't . . work.. out."

"Mmm." He continued kissing around my belly-button, before swirling his tongue around it, then into it. No
one had ever paid any attention to my navel before, not even Danny. "Did you and he make love?" he
asked.
"Yeah." I licked at my lips, still running my fingers through his hair. There was a part of me that was
fighting to remember that this situation was really weird. Otis never talked to me, yet here he was,
asking me all sorts of questions - intimate questions. But, at that moment, I was just too caught-up in the
moment to take much notice.

"Aw, c'mon, did the two of you make love, or did you screw like little fuck-bunnies?"

He rested his chin on my stomach. I looked down at him and saw the gleam in his eyes. "Make love," I said,
trying to sound properly indignant, but failing miserably.

"Mmmm.. " He started swirling his tongue around and across my belly-button again. "What did he look
like? Was he handsome?"

It took me a moment to even remember what Danny looked like. "Average," I whispered. "Brown hair; it's
darker than mine. Brown eyes, too. About six-feet tall, a little on the skinny side; he liked swimming and
running, that kept him thin."

He had stopped working over my belly-button and was now trailing kisses lower. "Did you ever go down
on him?"

"A few times," I admitted, hoping I wouldn't blush. Like most guys, Danny had really liked oral sex,
particularly if he was the one receiving it. I was a bit less enthusiastic about the subject myself, but I'd
done it to please him.

"Did he ever return the favor?" He ran one hand up and down my leg, as he kissed lower still. His free
hand moved up to caress my breasts.

"Once," I whispered, closing my eyes and getting lost in the sensations pouring through me. Part of me
knew I should be cautious, and that I should be fighting the feelings I was having - there was no way this
would have a good ending - but another part of me was not going to let that stop me from wanting
whatever else he had to give me. Life had been one miserable thing after another since I got here; my
body and mind were not going to pass up this sweet chance to enjoy it. "He ... mmm . . didn't like it ... mmm . .
much."

Otis had moved himself lower while I had been talking. Now his head was between my legs. "He was a
fucking idiot," Otis said, and set to work doing what Danny had disliked so much. If Otis disliked doing it,
he sure had learned how to fake it. Within seconds, I was arching my back, squirming like a fish on a hook.
I'd stopped running my fingers through his hair, afraid I'd be unable to control myself and I'd start
trying to yank it from of his head. Instead, I grabbed onto the quilt, grasping it and twisting it in my
hands.

Somewhere along the line, Otis had gained some serious experience with women who weren't dead, and
whom he wasn't raping. And whoever these women were, they had taught him well. Later, I would be
ashamed and embarrassed at how I acted, but at that moment, I was unable to think about anything but
what that man was doing with his tongue and fingers. Maybe Danny and I had that puppy-love thing going
for us, but those nights that were shared in his tiny, off-campus apartment seemed amateur and foolish,
like the games of two children, compared to the raw passion Otis was bringing out in me now.

He worked me as though I was a delicate instrument that needed fine-tuning, doing everything with
gentle precision. He brought me to the edge, and each time I felt ready to topple over it, he would slow
down or stop completely until the wave passed, then go right back at it. It was both wonderful and
frustrating, and part of me wondered if that was the game: take me almost to the top of the crest, but
refuse to let me go the last half-mile, so to speak.

After about three times of this "Oh so close, and yet so far" treatment, I was shaking and about ready to
chew the wallpaper off the walls. The entire experience was mind-blowing. It seemed, in a lot of ways,
like I was with a stranger who'd taken over Otis's body, but I couldn't forget that this was still Otis - the
man who tormented me, and controlled me at all times. I couldn't very well grab him by the hair and
demand he finish what he started.

I was gasping for air and trembling, when he abruptly stopped. I looked down at him, and noted he was
smiling. Since I trusted him about as far as I could toss an anvil, I wasn't sure I liked that grin.

He reached up and moved my legs so they were no longer over his shoulders, but spread apart on either
side. He started kissing up across my body urgently; again, keeping the glow going without taking me all
the way.
He kissed up to my neck, then up to my mouth. He kissed me on the lips; again, exploring my mouth with his
tongue. Then he kissed over to my ear. I was pressing my groin into his. "Something on your mind?" he
whispered.

"What are yo-" I began, then stopped, remembering again who this was, and not wanting to demand
anything from him.

"Don't stop," he said, as he licked behind my ear. "You want something, don't you, my little whore? Tell me."

"You know what I want," I whimpered.

"No, I don't," he teased, still kissing my neck. One hand had moved up to stroke my breasts again. "If you
don't want to tell me, then show me."

For some reason, touching seemed easier than talking. I snaked my hand between us and reached for his
jeans. With trembling fingers, I unsnapped his jeans, and tugged the zipper down. He raised his hips
slightly to allow me better access. While I was doing this, he put his mouth to mine, and started kissing
me again, hard and deep. As I returned his kiss, I found myself raising my legs until my feet were up at
his waist. I had never done anything like this before, not even with Danny, but I hooked my toes into the
waistband of his jeans and began pushing them down over his hips. He broke off our kiss and looked at me.
"Okay, that's a pretty good start, never had a girl do that to me before." He helped me getting his pants
off, by moving his body so I could push them past his knees. Once I did that, it was no trouble to pull them
off completely. The underwear was even easier.

When he was completely naked, he raised himself on his arms and looked at me. "You want this, don't
you?"

I nodded.
"Are you my whore?" he asked. He moved closer, his cock springing against my anxious loins.

I nodded again.

"Don't nod, tell me." His voice wasn't as harsh as it usually was when ordering me about, but I still sensed
that menace under the surface.

"I'm your whore," I whispered.

"Always?" He moved a little closer. I could feel him, and, just like the first night, it felt hot - but unlike
the first night, I welcomed the heat. So close, and yet still not close enough.

"Always," I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice, but knowing I wasn't doing well.

"Tell me how much you want me," he ordered. I knew he wanted this, too - his body was telling me it did -
but he was able to keep control a lot easier.

"I want you," I said. I stared into his eyes, so he could see I wasn't messing around here. "You don't know
how bad I want you."

He snorted, still teasing me. "That's no help. Find the words, bitch."

I was pushing my hips into him, trying to get him inside me, but he was evading me. "I need you," I said.
My brain was whirling as though I'd drunk too much wine. My body was screaming for this, telling my
brain to help me get what it needed. "I'm your fucking whore, and I need you," I said. "Fuck me, Otis.
Because if you don't, I think I'm going to die."

"Close," he said, pressing into me, just a fraction more, a taste. "So very close.. but not quite enough."

"Stop this, it's torture," I gasped. "I don't care if you want to stab me, beat me, or choke me to death, just
give me this one last thing. Please, Otis, I'm begging you - fuck me, fuck your whore."

Still looking me in the eyes, he pushed himself forward, sealing himself inside me with one sure stroke.
That was all I needed to push myself over the edge. My back arched and I pushed against him, wrapping
my legs around his waist as if I intended to keep him inside me forever.

"That's my little whore," he murmured into my ear.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," I gasped, like a chant. My legs were still shaking as I unlocked them from around
his waist. "Oh. My. Fucking. God."

"God has nothing to do with this," he said, as he started moving slowly, deliberately starting to tease me
up again. "You got the devil inside you tonight, whore, and you love it."

Those words should have scared me, but they didn't. If anything, they turned me on. "It was fantastic."

"Was?" He snorted. "Bitch, you ain't seen nothin' yet."

He was absolutely right.

**********

Rebirth In Blood
LEGAL DISCLAIMER: I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil's
Rejects. I do not own most of these characters. They are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate films, and
whoever else holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan fiction, intended for the sole
purpose of entertainment. No one has been paid to write or host this story. No one is paid or will have to
pay to read it.

THE STORY ITSELF DISCLAIMER: This story is rated NC-17, for disturbing images and excessive violence
as much if not more than sexual contents. If stories involving murder, rape, extreme violence,
cannibalism, humiliation, and so on, are not your cup of tea, DO NOT READ IT. If you are under the age of
18 don't read it either.

Specific Chapter Warning: M/f, B-Mod (Yes, I promised!)

Again, this is in "raw" format. Sorry. As soon as my beta readers get on the stick, I'll post the edited
versions.

Chapter Eleven

Rebirth In Blood

I don't think Otis or I fell asleep that night, I think we both passed out. I'm pretty sure I did. There's only
so much raw pleasure a physically fit body can take, and I wasn't very physically fit anymore. When I
woke up, sun was streaming through the window. I was half on top of Otis, my head resting on his chest.
His arms were wrapped around me, holding me to him as if we were long time lovers. The window had
stayed open all night, but the room still smelled of sweat and that musky, almost earthy odor that
anyone with any experience knows is the scent of sex.
I stiffened, afraid to move and wondering what would happen when Otis woke up. I wanted to believe
that whatever had happened between us last night, it had changed him. I knew better than to hope a few
orgasms had changed him completely, so he would find himself swearing off being a necrophiliac mass
murderer, let me free, and dedicate his life to giving art lessons to underprivileged urban youth. But,
part of me dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, he'd see me as just a little more human. Maybe he'd stop
beating on me so much. Maybe the rapes would stop and instead become what we had the night before.
Yeah, technically, since I'd never given him permission, every time he touched me it was rape, but with
what I'd been through, if it always like it was that last night, I'd take it. Maybe I wouldn't have the
prudish comfort of being able to say, "Yes, he took me over and over again, but like a good girl, I always
hated it!" But, given the choice? I'll take the orgasm over internal injury. Let a jury refuse to convict him
of rape on the basis of my enjoying myself, we were never going to get to that point anyway. I was sure
I'd be dead before long, and he'd be onto someone else.

He woke up a few minutes after I did and wrapped his arms tighter around me. I wasn't sure if he meant
to do that, or if it was just an automatic reaction. He made a small, almost grunting noise and I could
hear him licking his lips, no doubt trying to get rid of the pasty morning-mouth feeling.

I waited to see what he would do. Would he push me off him, and start yelling at me? Would he be mad
that I wasn't in my box? Would he start hitting me? Maybe lecture me, or play one of his, "Tell me how
useless you are" games?

Instead of doing any of those things, he started nuzzling my neck, kissing and licking as he'd done last
night. And I began responding as I'd done last night. After a bit of that, he wrapped his arms around me,
and rolled so I was lying underneath him, and started kissing me on the lips. I wrapped my arms around
him, returning those kisses with the same enthusiasm.

Unlike last night though, Otis didn't try to talk to me. No questions about former lovers, or the games I'd
played with them. Instead, we were both quiet, letting our hands, mouths, and fingers do the talking. And
yes, I did my fair share of intimate exploring, figuring that if I didn't start returning the favors being
granted to me, he'd start getting upset. And, if I must be truthful, I wanted to. Up until last night,
everything about Otis had been harsh and cold. Whether it was morbid curiosity, or starvation for
affection, I wanted to touch this body that had brought me so much pain, yet could bring me so much
pleasure. It was like having a rabid dog that was going for your throat suddenly climb up on the sofa next
to you, and allow you to pet him. I was worried, but I was also curious and fascinated. I had to touch him,
I had to explore him as he explored me.
No words were spoken until again, he had me gasping and almost crying for the want of him, and he was
above me poised, and able, but again teasing me. Then he whispered into my ear, "Who are you, and what
do you want?"

I knew what he wanted to hear and this time I didn't hesitate. "I'm your whore, fuck me."

My words pleased him and he rewarded me.

*****

For the next few days, I could almost believe I wasn't a victim. Almost, but never quite. I didn't know
what game Otis was playing and I didn't dare ask him. I just knew that at least for now, he seemed more
interested in having me crave his touch, rather than fear it. We spent most of the time in bed and
surprisingly little of that time sleeping. By the time it ended, I was pretty sure that there wasn't a
whole lot about sex I hadn't done, at least two-person heterosexual sex. If I dared to allow myself to feel
hope about my future, I might have speculated that if I ever got out of this place and got married, my
husband wouldn't have to worry that there was anything I didn't know how to do. I could have been the
poster woman for the sexual revolution. "I've seen it all, I've done it all."

At the end of the third day of these fun and games, we were lying in bed together, arms wrapped around
each other. He was nuzzling my neck, biting on my ear, when he whispered, "What's your name?"

I had to think for a moment. Since I'd been brought to this room, I'd tried to forget my name. That may
sound strange, but it was my unique way of coping. As Karen, I'd had such a low-key, uneventful life, I
believed as long as I thought of myself as her, I never could have coped with what was happening. If I
forced myself to believe I was some nameless girl, someone who'd never known a normal life, it was
easier. You can't miss what you never had. "I-I," I began, then stopped. "Does it matter?"

"Yeah, it does," he said, still kissing, still whispering, which tickled, but felt strangely good too. "C'mon, tell
Otis who you are."
I realized then that he could care less what the name I'd been given at birth was. He wanted to know who
I was now. I snuggled further into him. "I'm your whore."

He kissed the top of my head, then whispered, "And who am I?"

Well, that was easy. "Otis."

His hand was rubbing my back in slow, lazy, circles. "So, who are you?"

I was confused for a moment, then realized what he wanted from me. "I'm Otis's whore," I murmured.

"Yeah, that's right." He sat up, pulling me up with him. He shifted me, so I was in his arms, looking up at
him. "You're my little whore for as long as you live, right?"

I nodded.

"And I'm the one that decides how long you live and when you die, right?" His eyes were starting to take
on that glint that I never would trust, because it usually indicated Otis's mind was starting to work in a
direction I wouldn't like. I forced myself not to stiffen, least I push him further down this path and
instead nodded. This pleased him and he nodded. One of his hands was curled around me, holding me. The
other he began to run up my stomach, between my breasts and up to my throat. His fingers wrapped
around my throat, not squeezing, but just lightly resting. If he'd wanted to choke me, he could do it before
I'd even know what was happening.

It took everything I had not to raise my hand to try to stop him. I forced myself to at least pretend I
was calm.
He leaned over, fingers still on my throat, and whispered in my ear. "Who are you?"

"Otis's whore," I said.

He sat up and moved away from me, so I was no longer in his arms, but fell onto the bed instead. He rose
off the bed, to his feet and looked down at me. "Prove it," he said.

"How?" I asked. I really was beginning to strongly dislike where this was going, but I knew I couldn't
panic, that would only make things worse.

He put on a pair of jeans that were lying on the floor by the bed, then disappeared behind the curtain to
his studio. When he returned, he was holding a long, sharp, wicked looking knife. He came over and sat
down on the edge of the bed.

I stared at the knife, unable to take my eyes off of it. Was this it? A few days of orgasmic bliss and now
he was going to cut me up? Was this all a little game? Give me something that almost resembled
happiness for a bit, so that my death would seem all the more bitter to me?

"Who are you?" he asked me again, those eyes of his staring at me, as if their gaze would burn my skin.

"Otis's whore," I said, fighting as hard as I could to keep the tremble out of my voice and to not stare at
that knife.

"Do you really believe that?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Do you really believe that?" he repeated, sounding angry.

Clearly nodding wasn't enough. "I do," I said, "With all that I am."

I got a smile from him with the last part, although I'm not sure I was glad about that. "Will you prove
it?" he asked me.

"How?"

He pressed the knife handle into my hand. "Mark yourself."

My fingers curled around the knife handle, but I shook my head at his words. "Mark myself?"

He had slipped his hand over my hand, so we were both holding the knife. "Mark yourself," he repeated and
moved my hand until the tip of the knife was touching the outer part of my right thigh. "Carve your
name.. right here."

I couldn't believe what he was asking. "What?"

"Carve your name here," he said again, firmer this time, as if he was making a perfectly reasonable
request of me. "If you are really my whore, as you say you are, you shouldn't mind labeling yourself as
such."
"I-I can't do that!" I said, my throat suddenly feeling as if someone poured a bucket of sand into it.

"Why not?"

"B-because it's just-" I began, then stopped. I didn't think telling him that carving my skin would be sick
and disgusting would make him happy. "I-I don't know how," I said instead.

"It's easy." His hand was still over mine, still holding the knife with me. "You just press in.. " he paused and
pushed the tip of the knife into my thigh, slowly. I gasped as it split the skin and started sliding in. ".. and
you start cutting," his voice was soft, almost seductive. He moved the blade down, slicing my skin. ".. and
before you know it, it's done. Skin peals off easier than you might think."

I was already gasping at the little bit of cutting that already had happened. "I-I don't think I can do
this," I whimpered

"Then I guess you're just a liar," he said, bringing his other hand up and wrapping the fingers around my
neck. "And I don't like liars. Especially liars that work their way into my bed." He spoke as if our
relationship was a voluntary one on both of our parts, as if I were his girlfriend or something.

I did something desperate, I begged. "Please, Otis, no." It didn't help, it only made him push the knife
deeper and further into my skin and tighten his fingers around his throat. Blood was trickling down my
thigh, onto the somewhat clean comforter and sheets.

"It's up to you, bitch." His lips curled into a sneer. "You can live for now, as my whore, or you can die my
bitch. And trust me, I won't just snap your neck. I'll make sure your death is very slow, very painful. And
before you go off to Hell? You'll have whoever you are, carved into your skin. What's it gonna be? My
whore, or my bitch?"
He was deadly serious and I knew it. Either way, I was going to be carved up, it was just with one way, I
had a chance of living a bit longer. "I-I'll do it," I whispered.

He removed his hand from my throat, and leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. "Good girl." He
removed his hand from around mine and around the knife handle. Then, he reached around behind him
and pulled a gun out of the waistband of his jeans. "Sorry 'bout this," he said, as he aimed it at my head.
"I'm not too sure I can trust you with a sharp knife like that and all, so I'm just going to take some
precautions."

Ironically, until he spoke, I had never considered trying to overpower him with the knife. His dominance
over me was total; by this point, I believed that no matter what, I was helpless.

He sat down on the bed again, and moved the gun so it was behind me, pressed into the neck at the base of
my skull, angled slightly upward. "If I pull this trigger, your brains are going to come crashing out of
your forehead," he murmured, leaning over to kiss the top of my head. "Now, get to work. Sooner it's over,
sooner it's done."

I looked down at my hand and the knife. Gritting my teeth, I started sliding the knife down my thigh,
cutting through the skin and into the muscle. Blood was flowing freely as I cut.. and cut..

Keeping the gun in my neck, he leaned over and dabbed some blood on his finger. He used it to draw a line
above where he'd started me cutting, and then dabbed more and did the same across the bottom. "Make it
that big," he whispered.

It wasn't as bad at first. The knife was very sharp, so it cut so easily at first, that I would barely feel it.
Then, as I trailed it downward, the stinging began as the nerve endings realized what I was doing. I bit
my lip and kept cutting, getting the first cut down to where he wanted it, then curving it around to form
the bottom of the O.

"That's my girl," Otis whispered, staring down at what I was doing. "See? It's not so bad, is it?"
I wanted to yell at him, scream at him, throw the knife across the room and pound on his chest with my
fists, Yes it is, you motherfucker, it fucking hurts! Instead, I started to cry. "I don't think I can do this," I
sobbed.

"Yes you can," he said, leaning close to me and nuzzling my hair. "I know you can do it,and I know that in
truth, you love this and want it. You want everyone to know who you are, right?"

I didn't answer, I was too busy mutilating myself. I made the curve, then carved up, completing the O as
the blood kept flowing from the wound, running down my leg, soaking the bedclothes under me.

I hoped he might be satisfied with just a single cut for each letter, but Otis wanted to make sure this was
something that would last forever. "Now like this," he murmured, putting his free hand over mine to
guide the knife. He wanted me to make sure the letters were a good quarter inch wide. "Yeah, my little
whore, you're doing good," he said, as I worked on making that O.

As I started in on the "T", I could feel the blood starting to spread over the bed, down to my knees, up
under my ass. "I-I'm gonna-" I paused to gasp. "-ruin the mattress."

"It'll be okay," he assured me. He still had the gun to my neck, but he was leaning over me again, kissing
my hair in encouragement as if I were a beloved child being forced for her own good, to do something she
found distasteful. He was watching me cut myself too, completely fascinated with what I was doing.

By the time I got through his name, I was starting to feel lightheaded. "I-I don't know if I can finish," I
gasped. "Don't. .feel.. "

"Shh, you can do it," he said. He leaned over and ran his finger over my leg, smearing blood on it. "You're
stronger than you think." He drew a line from the top of my forehead, down to the end of my nose.
Gasping, shaking, fighting not to pass out, I kept cutting. W-H-O-R-E. Five letters left. Five letters that
suddenly seemed huge and menacing. I began working on the W.

He helped himself to another smear of my blood and brought it up to my face. This time he drew a line
across my eyelids and nose, effectively making a bloody cross on my face. When he was done, he brought
his bloodstained fingertip to his lips and licked it clean. "Yeah, that's it, keep going."

I had stopped crying by now, because I just didn't have the strength. I was starting to feel cold, colder
than I had ever felt in my life. "Please," I whispered, as I started on the H. "Please, don't make me do
anymore.. I-I can't."

"Sure you can," he disagreed. "C'mon, keep going."

I made it half way through the H and my fingers just stopped working. I felt the knife slip out of them. If
Otis hadn't had the gun to the back of my head, I would have fallen back onto the bed. As it was, I started
to crumple, but he caught me. "You did real good, my little whore," he said. He helped so I was lying down
on the bed. I could feel wet blood, my blood, on my back, where it had soaked into the mattress "Do you
want me to finish it for you? I will."

At that moment, it was like something in my brain just shut down completely and I couldn't remember
why I'd been carving into my leg, or how this had all started. All I could remember was that I had to do
it, that if my new name wasn't carved into my thigh completely, something really bad would happen. I
looked at Otis and nodded, wanting to weep in gratitude. "Would you mind?"

"Nah." He stroked my hair and then picked up the knife. "I'll do it as quick as I can too."

He was as good as his word. He grabbed my leg and started cutting into my thigh with swift, sure moves. I
tried my best not to shake or tremble.

I was passed out by the time he finished.

End of Chapter Eleven

==========================================

Author's Notes: Again, thank you to all of you who are reading this and letting me know. I really
appreciate it, it keeps me going.

Again, this story is in raw format. I'm sorry if that makes it difficult / impossible to read. I just don't
know when my beta readers are going to get this stuff back to me. *sigh*

The downward Spiral Begins

Note.. I don't know if this will work or not. I do know that if I make a mistake, I won't be able to fix it
until they get the edit story feature up again.
LEGAL DISCLAIMER: I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil's
Rejects. I do not own most of these characters. They are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate films, and
whoever else holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan fiction, intended for the sole
purpose of entertainment. No one has been paid to write or host this story. No one is paid or will have to
pay to read it.

THE STORY ITSELF DISCLAIMER: This story is rated NC-17, for disturbing images and excessive violence
as much if not more than sexual contents. If stories involving murder, rape, extreme violence,
cannibalism, humiliation, and so on, are not your cup of tea, DO NOT READ IT. If you are under the age of
18 don't read it either.

Specific Chapter Warning: Violence, language, nothing too gruesome. (Saving that for the next chapter.)

Chapter Twelve
The Downward Spiral Begins

I know I lost a lot of blood labeling myself to Otis's satisfaction and top of that, infection set in as well. I
probably should have died after that, so I guess it's a weird sort-of miracle I lived. I don't know how long
it took me to recover, because I wasn't grounded in reality at that time. I remember being weak, I
remember feeling like I was on fire, or else I was freezing cold. I remember strange things that I know
now didn't happen, they were most likely hallucinations Since no one would ever bother to explain
anything to me, I was left to figure it out myself, what was real and what were fever dreams.

I think Otis was really annoyed by my failure to instantly recover from carving upon my flesh and I'd
also bet he toyed at times with just killing me, but he didn't. I believe that I had become part of a game
he was playing, a game he wasn't tired of yet, which meant he was willing to make a minimal effort to
assist in my survival.

I have vague memories of being shoved in a bathtub full of cold water, probably when I was running a
fever. I remember being fed water and soup too. Not always by him though, in fact I don't think he ever
helped me with that. I remember Mama and even Baby helping me instead. Clearer memories are painful
ones of having whiskey poured on my wounds. I remember begging and crying a few times when I saw Otis
coming near me with the bottle. He was never affected by my tears, he just did what he had to. He'd pour
the booze on my injury, wipe it off, and sometimes bandage it. "Oh, shut up, whore, it ain't that bad."

Despite all this home nursing being done to me, I never made the mistake of thinking Otis cared about me.
Otis was still Otis, even if he was making some simple attempts to keep me alive. He didn't beat me up
while I was sick, but I know he had sex with me at least once. I might have even instigated it, but I don't
think so. I know I didn't fight him, but I doubt I was very responsive. Maybe he liked that way, maybe I
reminded him of someone who had only recently died and was still warm. His own, personal, living-dead
girl.

I remember being kept either his bed, or in my box, or lying on the floor. When I was in my box, I think
Otis was beating, raping, and killing other girls. I know there were times where he had me lie on the
floor, because he needed the bed for those activities, so I figured he did the same while I was in my box. I
was too sick to care.
Eventually though, I recovered, but I wasn't the same. I hadn't been in wonderful shape to start with, the
cutting, the bleeding, the infection drained most of what was left out of me. Getting downstairs became a
hugely difficult task, one that required me to rest several times. This made it harder to get food, which I
needed more than ever. I was reduced to begging Otis, which was a carried about a 40% success rate.
Failure sometimes led to being yelled at, whacked, or cut. Even though no one could even think of me as
"fat" anymore, he still felt I (along with the rest of the human race) spent way too much time eating. I
think the man was able to draw energy from the air around him, or from other people, like some type of
mental vampire. Yeah, it certainly wouldn't have hurt him to put on 10-20 pounds, but I really believe the
way he ate, he should have starved to death. I remember during one of his lectures to me about how
great he was and how wrong the rest of the world was, he had said that he was different, he was more
human than human. The more time I spent with him, the more I believed that. Maybe that gave him the
right to be the murderous person he was? Maybe he really was superior to the rest of us humans and
therefore, under no obligation to treat us any better than someone might treat an animal. Yes, you might
argue that most animals were treated better than I or others who walked into this trap were treated,
but not all animals had a much better life than we had.

Much to my surprise, I did gain an ally in part, and it was Tiny. Once when he came into Otis's room to
pick up a couple bodies that Otis had "enjoyed and destroyed," he saw me begging for food. Even though he
couldn't hear, he must have figure out from my gestures what I was asking for.

"For fuck's sake, is that all you fucking do is eat?" Otis snapped. He was writing in one of his notebooks.
Normally, I tried my hardest not to ask him for anything if he was busy, but he'd been writing in his
notebook for over an hour, showing no sign of stopping and I hadn't eaten in about two days, my guts were
starting to feel like they were twisting upon themselves. "Leave me alone, bitch!" I'd been sitting on the
floor to the side and behind him when I asked. Without even looking he reached behind him, smacking me
in the jaw. For Otis, it was really a light tap, but lately, even the mildest of hits felt bone jarring lately.

Tiny grabbed one of the bodies, hefted it over his shoulder, and left the room. I didn't even think twice
about it, although there was no reason why he couldn't have grabbed both of the bodies. I thought about
sneaking down to the bathroom and getting water, but I'd already done that trick last night and it wasn't
going to work. I crawled over to the pile of dirty clothing Otis had started acquiring lately and curled
up on that.

A few minutes later, Tiny came in for the second body. Otis was still writing. I noticed Tiny wasn't taking
a direct path to the body, but going around the room, so he'd have to pass me. When he did, he dropped
something into the pile of dirty clothing, where Otis wouldn't be able to hear it land. He never even
looked at me, just continued over to the second body. I watched as he scooped up the second body and
carried it out of the room, not even looking at me. I was almost ready to believe what he'd dropped had
been a figment of my imagination, until I reached to where the item had fallen and felt something there.
I pulled it over to take a look, it was a brown paper bag. I didn't know why Tiny had brought me a paper
bag and I wasn't sure what I'd find inside, but I slowly opened it.
Inside was a scooter pie, a box of raisins, a package of strawberry pop tarts, and can of soda called "Big
Red." Okay, it wasn't going to win any awards for being a balanced meal, but I jumped on it. After that,
whenever he took bodies from the room, Tiny would usually bring me something to eat. Had he not done
that, taken pity on me like that, I would surely have starved.

There were times when I wondered why fate, God, or whoever is in charge of destiny was keeping me
alive. I served no real purpose; I certainly wasn't able to change Otis or anyone else in the family and
make them better people. All I was living for was for just another day. I have to wonder now, why those
days were so important to me. I seriously believed I was going to end up dead, why did I keep trying to
hang on? What was this new life offering me that was worth staying alive for? The occasional mind
blowing, multi orgasmic sex?

Being too thin and too weak wasn't the only things different about me. There were a couple times when
I'd catch my reflection in the mirror in the bathroom, and I couldn't believe who I had become, that I'd
been born out of a normal person who had lived a normal, relatively happy life. My eyes were sunk in my
head, my lips were a bluish color all the time. Bruises took so long to heal that I ended up with new
bruises on top of the old ones, so parts of me were always a blackish color. My knee never healed right
and was always a yellowish-green color. Wrapping it up and tying it off was the only way to keep it from
swelling up like a balloon. My nose had been broken so many times, that I had perpetual black eyes. I'd
lost a few teeth and had a cheekbone fractured more than once. I had regular bloody noses too.

My "label" though, healed up pretty good. Considering it was the only injury I had that had been taken
care of at all, that wasn't too surprising.

The fantastic sex didn't change anything really, it just added another element to our relationship and
maybe made me a little easier to control. I still spent a lot of time in my box, once I was healed. Otis still
yelled or lectured me at times. He still beat me, he still would rape me. Sometimes though, instead of
raping me, he'd start with the kissing the caressing, and it would become mutual sex instead. I never
instigated it, because I was terrified of what would happen to me if he wasn't in the "right mood." But if
he started it, I enthusiastically joined in. I suppose there are people out there who would lose all respect
for me, if they knew how often I craved the sex instead of the rape. Surely someone of decent moral fiber
should never find anything pleasant in the touch of a sadistic, murderous madman like Otis but that no
longer mattered to me at all. When things were good, and he was trying to make me tremble with desire
rather than fear, I didn't care who I was with. For awhile, I wasn't just the poor, pathetic, future murder
victim, I wasn't someone who only knew she was alive by the pain and fear, I was someone who was
feeling good, both physically and mentally. We did things to each other I never would have dreamed of
doing with Danny, but this was entirely different.

After the carving, when I started recovering, at least enough so I was coherent, Otis stopped hiding me
as much when he played his sick little murder games. Before then, most of the time he was with his
victims, I was hidden in the box. I don't think any of these girls even knew I was right underneath them,
sleeping or trying to pretend I didn't hear their struggles. After I was labeled as Otis's Whore, Otis
didn't worry as much about if I saw or not. In fact, I think he deliberately wanted me to see.

He'd bring up his victims, mostly females. He'd beat them, rape them, carve them up, and kill them.
Sometimes it was pretty quick, other times he made a game out of it. He'd bring two women up and make
them perform every sexual act he could think of, both with each other and him, making them think their
"reward" for a good job would be their lives. They never did a good enough job to win their lives, of
course. Sometimes he'd yell at them, claiming he didn't want to bring them here, but he had to, because he
had to try to show them the truth. Or, that he had brought them here for a great purpose, instead of just
to kill them. That he was going to teach them the "way and the truth." There were times that turned into
a horrible game too, as he would give them the impression that if they just could understand him, they'd
be saved. The difference though, was in the cases of trying to make them "understand the truth," Otis
wasn't playing this game deliberately. I really believe that he was always looking for someone who
would truly understand him, beside his family. The problem being, of course, that no one could understand
him. And, being tied up, attacked, and raped didn't exactly make for a receptive audience.

When his victims could see me, they would always cry out to me for help. "Please, help me! please, go get
help!"

Otis would laugh. "She ain't gonna help you, bitch! She's mine all the way, and she knows better! Hey,
Whore, show 'em who you are!"

I'd turn so they could read my name on my thigh. Sometimes this would shut them up as it would dawn on
them that I wasn't likely to be any type of help to them. Other times, they'd still beg. "Please, get help!
You're not tied up, stop him! How can you let him do this to me?" That was the worst, because I always
felt in some ways they were right. What type of person was I to witness this and do nothing? Why didn't
I at least try to help? Sure, I would have likely died, but again, what purpose was I serving by being
alive? Wouldn't it redeem me somewhat, to at least try to save someone?

I'd try to get out of there when this was happening. If I could leave the room I would. If I couldn't make
it downstairs, I'd hide in the bathroom or even just sit in the hall. If I couldn't escape from the room, I'd
try to slip behind the curtain into the studio, or crawl into my box.

Otis didn't mess with guys as much, at least not in the same way. If he brought a guy to his room it was
most likely because he was hoping this guy would provide him with inspiration for his art. Unfortunately,
these guys weren't able to provide any inspiration, which didn't make Otis happy, so he'd end up beating on
them, and then messing with them. He might try to see if he could force some inspiration to come to him,
by hanging this poor soul in his studio and just playing around. Like throwing knives at them, scalping
them, or maybe even drilling a hole or two in their heads with the same drill used to make the air hole
in my coffin-box. But, mostly, Otis left the boys to Mama and Baby.

A restlessness began to take Otis over. It was hard to see with him, what with him being the person he
was, but I guess I'd been his whore and in a sense, his companion long enough that I could tell he was
more edgy than usual. His temper flared up easier with me. Even when he was trying to have sex with me,
not just rape me, he would get impatient at times, his attitude would shift, and it would turn into
something brutal. Times when he'd beat me took on an interesting twist as he started cutting me. Never
bad, never like my thigh had been, but he would drag one of his razors or knives down my skin, watching
as the little red beads of blood would ooze up. "Yeah, that's it," he'd murmur. "Blood is forever."

He started going out at night too. At first I just thought he was leaving the room and going elsewhere in
the house, but I noticed when he returned he would stink of cigarette smoke. Mama smoked, and Baby had
the occasional cigarette, but those were not enough to explain the strong scent that clung to him upon
returning late at night. He was going someplace where smokers gathered, I guessed it was most likely a
bar.

Sometimes he'd lock me in my box before he left, sometimes he didn't. If he didn't, and I got tired, I'd
usually crawl into my box, which wasn't as bad as you might think when the door was open. I didn't want
to risk falling asleep on the bed, because it might annoy Otis. Sometimes he'd come in, fall on the bed and
go to sleep. Other times, he'd drag me out and use me one way or another.

One night after he'd gone out, I was surprised when I was woken up by Baby. "C'mon, get up, get up," she
said, kicking the end of the box.

I crawled out and looked up at her. "What's up?"

"Otis is bringin' someone up," she explained. "He don't want you naked and all such." As I was slowly trying
to rise to my feet, she went over to Otis' closet and rummaged through until she found an almost
threadbare brown and tan flannel shirt. "Put this on," she ordered me, tossing it over.

I stared at it for a bit, almost not recognizing what it was and what I should do with it. I hadn't worn
clothing since Otis had ripped off the t-shirt and jeans I'd been wearing when Rufus brought me here. The
only coverings I wore on a regular basis, was the denim brace Otis had made for my knee and another
makeshift bandage on my ankle from another injury inflicted on me. I'd worn a bandage when I'd labeled
myself, but since that had healed up enough, Otis didn't want me to keep it covered.

"What, are you stupid?" Baby snapped, rolling her eyes in disgust. "Put on the shirt. It'll cover enough of
you. Hurry."

I slipped the shirt on, fumbling with the buttons. Since that one day Baby and I had played dress up in her
room, I'd run into her a few times and I learned she could switch moods just as fast as Otis could, so I was
cautious around her. Maybe even more so than I was with Otis. Baby was so used to acting and being the
spoiled baby, I knew if I pissed her off too much, she'd kill me. Maybe I was serving some purpose to Otis,
but if Baby got pissed off at me and wanted me dead, she'd do it and worry about the consequences later.

Once she had attacked me because I'd been in the bathroom when she wanted to use it. I always tried my
best to be quick in the bathroom so I wouldn't interfere with anyone, but sometimes it couldn't be
avoided. When she yelled in for me to hurry up, I rushed to finished up what I was doing as fast as
possible and hurried out. I couldn't have kept her waiting even a full minute.

"Who the fuck you think you are, bitch?" she snapped, kicking me as I tried to pass. "What fucking dumb
little bitch hogs up the bathroom all fucking day when real fucking people need to use it? Huh? What the
fuck is your fucking problem?"

"I'm sorry," I said, gasping, because her foot had managed to connect onto my bad knee, of course.

"Oh, fat fucking good that does." She kicked me again, and started smacking me as well. She even pulled out
a knife and cut my arm. I tried to get away, but that only pissed her off more and she jumped on me,
kicking and punching me, and we both fell to the floor.

After a bit of this, the door to Mama's room opened and Mama came out. "Baby girl, what are you doing?"
she asked.
"Showing this bitch who's boss," Baby said. "She was in the fucking bathroom when I needed it. Who the
fuck she think she is?"

"Well, that wasn't very polite of her and I'm sure she's very sorry," Mama said, her voice gentle but with
a hint of admonishment in it, "but Baby, you know Otis doesn't like it when you kill his playthings. And
she's not really much of a challenge to you right now, is she? Is this really quite fair?"

Baby rolled off me, stood up and looked down at me. I was curled up, blood pouring out of my nose, mouth,
and from the cuts on my arms. My knee was throbbing and the rest of me felt as if I'd been put through a
meat grinder. "Hm.. you're right Mama, she's not really a challenge." She gave me one last kick. "That'll
teach you to hog up the bathroom, fucking bitch!" Without missing a beat, she stepped over my body and
hugged her mother. "I love you Mama!"

"I love you too, my Angel Baby." Mama had hugged her back, as if this was some special "women of the
family" bonding moments. They walked off together, leaving me to crawl back to Otis's room.

The very next day, Baby bounced into Otis' room while Otis was out. She tossed me an orange and a can of
Big Red soda, then sat down next to me. She pulled one of those Hollywood Scandal sheets out of her back
pocket and opened it up so both of us could read from it. She read articles to me and made comments
about the various stars the articles talked about. Meanwhile, I could barely see out of my swollen, black,
eyes, and cuts in my arms were still oozing blood, all because of her. Yet she acted as if we were old pals.

If Baby did want to kill me, even if Otis was unhappy about it, he'd forgive her. While there were times
when Baby's immature attitude got on Otis's nerves and the nerves of most of the rest of the family, they
also loved her, adored her, and couldn't stay mad at her. Baby was the baby and allowed to do whatever
she wanted.

I got a couple of the buttons on the shirt fastened, trying my best to hurry, but of course, having trouble.
It's never easy to go fast when someone is watching you. Making it worse lately was my fine motor skills
were starting to lack. As I struggled, I started hearing noise from downstairs. A man was singing, drunk
and off key. I heard what sounded like another guy snickering occasionally Then, I heard what sounded
like Grandpa yelling, "Otis, you'd better be teaching these boys how to play the shut the fuck up game, or
I'm gonna come out and kick their asses!"
"Oh yeah? How 'bout you go fucking first, you old fuck!" The voice sounded like Otis.

Baby looked me over, none too pleased with my efforts. "Gesh, okay, you'll do. Too bad your hair sucks." She
bounced from the room as if heading off to a party, leaving me to wonder what exactly was up.

====================

Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone who's reading this and taking the time to comment. I really
appreciate it.

Party Time
Again, not sure if this will work. If I make any mistakes, I won't be able to correct them until they allow
edit/addition of new stories, which they're saying might not be until March 1st.

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil's
Rejects. I do not own most of these characters. They are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate films, and
whoever else holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan fiction, intended for the sole
purpose of entertainment. No one has been paid to write or host this story. No one is paid or will have to
pay to read it.

THE STORY ITSELF DISCLAIMER: This story is rated NC-17, for disturbing images and excessive violence
as much if not more than sexual contents. If stories involving murder, rape, extreme violence,
cannibalism, humiliation, and so on, are not your cup of tea, DO NOT READ IT. If you are under the age of
18 don't read it either.

Specific Chapter Warning: Oral, extreme violence, language and other totally unwholesome things.

Chapter
Party Time

I sat on Otis's bed, trying to button the last of the buttons on the shirt and chewing my lower lip,
nervously. Even though Baby had pulled the shirt from the closet, it had been worn a few times by Otis
and not washed, so it smelled like him. I brought the sleeve up to my nose and took a deep sniff. The first
time in ages, I had clothing on, and it felt almost weird. Strange as it may seem, being able to smell Otis
helped calm me down, as if it was a way to reassure me that I was allowed to be wearing this.

I started hearing people coming up the stairs. The person who I'd heard singing downstairs apparently
decided that he should serenade the house some more:

*"We started in the morning, carryin' well into the night

Throwin' dirty dishes lalalalal blah lala

I'm a drunken mother fucker who needs to get some tail.

I'm at HOME getting' HAMMERED

While she's out getting' NAILED!"

I heard Otis laugh, as if he couldn't stop himself, and then say, "Shh, buddy, people are sleeping!"

The singing stopped and I heard the same voice going, "Where's the chick?"
"Upstairs, c'mon asshole." That was Otis again, and it was scaring me. He sounded so close to normal, like a
guy who's been out with the boys and was coming home to continue the party. I didn't believe Otis had
any friends except for his family.

"Whoo!" the singer cheered.

"Jesh, David, can't you learn to shut up?" an unfamiliar male voice asked. "These people are gonna kick our
asses out of here."

I heard Baby's giggle. "Don't you worry 'bout him, sugar pie We're gonna have a little party of our own!
My room is juuust down the hall, c'mon." I could picture her, leading this guy off, one of her breathtaking
smiles on her face. Poor sucker was probably thinking this was the luckiest night of his life.

Otis and the other guy were right outside my door, I knew it. I wrapped my arms tighter around myself
watching as the door opened and Otis and the mysterious singing stranger came in. "Hi honey," Otis called
out in an extremely over done 50's sitcom husband voice, "I'm home!"

I said nothing, instead looking at the stranger. He was the same height as Otis, with brown hair and eyes.
He wasn't as thin as Otis, but he had the build of someone who might enjoy running or swimming. My
stomach did a sickening, lurching, twist, suspecting something I really didn't want to think about.

The stranger looked around the room, not even seeing me yet. He was weaving a bit and even from across
the room, I could smell the whiskey on him. "Whew! stinks in this room," he remarked.

"Dead squirrel got caught between the walls," Otis said casually. "We only tracked down the body today.
You'll get used to it. Danny, this is my lady." He pointed to me.

"David," the guy corrected.

"Gee, I'm sorry, I'm just so bad with names." Otis looked over at me. "C'mon over honey, and say hello Dan-
Oops, I mean David."

I didn't want to rise from the bed, but I forced myself. My bad knee almost buckled underneath me.

"Christ, she's skinny," David remarked when I stood up. "She looks like one of those starving kids you see on
the Tee-Vee late at night, one of them, 'send us ten bucks and we'll give this kid three squares a day for
the rest of her life.' Fucking her must be like screwing a bag of bones."

"Hey, I told you, she's been sick," Otis said. I marveled at how damned normal he sounded, like he could
have been any average guy. "But she's getting better. " He looked over at me and when he did, I saw that
pure Otis B. Driftwood gleam in his eye. "C'mon over, say hello." Only Otis could say that in such a way
that it sounded fine, but I knew there was an order and a threat in there.

I moved towards them, slowly. Not just because I was reluctant, but also because I didn't want David to
realize that with my bad knee and messed up ankle, walking wasn't an easy task for me. Otis was able to
dismiss a lot of my lousy appearance on this claim that I'd been sick, but I didn't want to push the
envelope.

"Aw, don't be shy, now," Otis said, reaching out his hand to me. I took it, and he pulled me towards him. Not
too hard though; he didn't yank, but just gave a little pull, like an eager boyfriend might. When I was
close enough, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into him, and kissed me.

I returned the kiss. I wasn't quite sure what was going on here, but I knew whatever Otis had planned, I
wasn't going to like it. I also knew there was damned little I could do about it, so I might as well play
along. Besides, as sick as it sounds, I liked it when Otis kissed me with something akin to affection.

"Aw, I'm not sure of this anymore," David said, getting that depressed, whine in his voice that drunk
people could get.
Otis broke off our kiss, and moved so he was standing beside me, slipping his arm around me. I was grateful
for this, because it helped take some of the weight off my knee. "Nah, it's cool man, I told you, she's not
like these stupid women nowadays, with all this 'I'm just as good as any man' bullshit. She knows her place.
Don'tcha, Whore?" For this last part, he looked over and down at me, squeezing his arm tighter around me.

"Aw, that ain't nice!" David said. "Callin' your woman a whore."

"But she is!" Otis said, with a good natured chuckle. "It ain't like you think, though, she likes bein' my
whore." Again, he turned his attentions to me, "Show him what you did for me."

I turned and lifted the shirt enough so he could see the writing on my thigh. David stared at it. "Holy
shit, that musta hurt like a motherfucker!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, I was shocked that she did it, but she wanted to show the world how much she cared," Otis said. He
reached over and grabbed the desk chair which was behind him, pulled it around and shoved it towards
David. "Have a seat, Danny."

"David," he said, sounding annoyed as he sat down. "Why is it so hard to remember, my name is David, not
Danny."
"God, you keep telling me that, and I am sorry, I guess the booze has just gone to my head. I'll try to
remember," Otis said. Then he turned to me. "Poor Dan-er, I mean David just got into town and he's just
having shit lousy luck."

"Uh huh," I said, not really wanting to know, but figuring I needed to at least fake interest.

"Well, his friend, he caught Baby's eye, so he's gonna be just fine. But that leaves poor Dan-Oops, again,
sorry, David, in a bit of a bind." He alternated between looking at David or myself. Every time he started
to call him "Danny" he made sure to be looking at me, just in case I hadn't noticed yet that he'd found
himself a strange copycat of my former lover.
"Okay," I said, again, feeling that a response was needed from me.

"So, I was telling Dan-- oh gesh, I'm so sorry, I mean David, that you wouldn't mind giving him head.
Right?"

I stared at him in disbelief. Oddly, this was probably the last game I had expected. "Me?" I said, as if I
were stupid.

"Well, yes, dear," Otis said, nodding and smiling as if he was so amused at my little 'let's play stupid' game
I was trying to pull. "You know I'm not going to give Dan-er, David, head. I don't swing that way."

"Hey, uh, Otis here told me you'd be cool with it," David said. I guess even in his drunken bliss he was
getting a slight inkling that I wasn't comfortable with this. "If you're not, that's like, uh, cool, I guess."

"Nah, she's fine with it," Otis said. "You won't be the first guy she's blown besides me. We have a rule, no
fucking anyone but each other, but head, eh, that's another story. She just loves the taste so much, and I
can't provide her all the time, you know how that goes."

Otis had moved behind me, and had his arms around my waist, leaning over so he could keep an eye on
David and be able to whisper in my ear. "Do it, whore," he whispered.

"Well, if she really don't mind.. " David shrugged.

"Nope, she don't." He nuzzled my ear so he could whisper. "If you don't do it, I'm going to stick him to the
wall and start cutting pieces out of him every five minutes until he's dead. Then, I'll do the same to you.
So, if you want to save the both of you from that, you'd better do it." He alternated his whispering with
kissing my ear, so it would look as if we were just having a little "couple" moment.

I knew he was telling me the truth about David's and my fate, should I refuse. I didn't know why he was
doing this though, what point it had for him to watch me pleasuring someone else. If that sort of thing
was a turn-on for him, he could have had me do the same thing to Rufus or even Tiny, any time he
wanted. He went and picked this man for me, just for this. Why? Yes, there was the obvious resembalance
to Danny, but there had to be something more too.

I also knew I was going to do it. Even as I was horrified, I knew I was going to do it. Why? Because I
never refused to do anything Otis wanted me to do. I was his whore after all, and the only reason I was
alive was because of him.

David's drunken state was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, it kept him from noticing that things weren't
quite normal in this room, On the other hand, it might make the unpleasant task ahead take a whole lot
longer. I started over to him, trying to look casual, as if I had no problems with this and might actually
enjoy it. "Hey, uh, David," I said. "Why don't you make this a little easier and take your pants off."

"Sure thing babe, you're calling the shots." He leered at me as he stood up, undid his pants, and let them
drop to the floor. "Heh, I don't wear any underwear, cause I like to be ready at all times."

"My, isn't Danny here a clever boy?" Otis couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice.

David though, was too drunk to hear the sarcasm, just the words. "David, my name is DAVID."

"God, again, I'm sorry," Otis said. "I must have left my brain at the bar tonight."

"It's cool, man, I just don't get why you're having so much trouble with this." David sat back down.
I lowered myself down to the floor, half kneeling, half sitting, to spare my bad knee. I drew in a deep
breath, then set to work doing what I'd been told to do.

"Holy fuckin' shit!" David exclaimed as I began. "Whoa, I can't believe, I'm getting a BJ from some guy's
lady and he's fuckin' watching!"

"Hey, Danny, just shut the fuck up and enjoy," Otis suggested.

"David!"

"Whatever." Otis's voice was sounding less and less jovial and more like the Otis I saw most of the time.

As I worked on David, Otis began walking around the room, watching. I tried closing my eyes to block his
intense gaze out, but in a sense that made me even more nervous. I didn't like being stared at, but I liked
the idea of being unable to see him even less.

I really hated doing this and I'm sure Otis knew it and that was most of the reason he wanted me to do
it. I thought at first he was watching me, seeing what I was doing, but he wasn't, he was watching David,
Watching his face intently.

David was one of those people who thought sex was a sport and he should give a play by play
announcement "Whoa, that's it, baby, that's it. Yeah, yeah, use that tongue.. yeah, feels so good, baby, use
that mouth. Goddamn, baby, you sure know how to please a man, shit yeah!" I tried not to cringe at his
love of calling me "Baby."

When Otis was behind David, I saw him do a mocking, yet almost deadly accurate imitation of David's
reactions to what I was doing. Despite everything going on, the imitation was really funny, and I had to
choke back a burst of laughter.
David, being the brilliant specimen of human intelligence he was, thought the stifled laugh was done to
please him. "Oh yeah, do that again, it's like you turned your fucking throat into a god damned vibrator.
Yeah, do it, do it, do it!"

His drunk state did slow him down, but it didn't make him impotent. About the time my jaw started
feeling like it was going to lock up on me, his body started jerking and his eyes started rolling back in his
head. "Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh fuckin' yeah! I'm gonna, I'm gonna..."

As he stiffened in the chair, grabbing me by the hair and forcing my head deeper into his crotch, Otis
sneaked up behind him and slit his throat. He did it so quickly, that I'm not sure if David really
understood what was happening. His eyes widened, and a gurgling noise came from his throat. His face
was frozen in a weird mixture of both pain and ecstasy

Blood sprayed from the wound, soaking me. His body slumped forward, falling onto me. This all happened
so fast, I still had him in my mouth when he started falling. I barely managed to pull my mouth off him
and I couldn't stop his body from landing on me, covering me with his blood. His fingers were still
wrapped in my hair.

And what did Otis do? He stood there, laughing as if this was the funniest thing he'd ever seen.

David's body was covering me. I went into a full panic mode. I tried to push him off me, but for a few
seconds it seemed like the more I pushed away, the more he stayed on top of me. I started making noise,
not exactly screaming, but making gasping, frightened noises. I finally managed to get his body off of me
and his fingers out of my hair. As he fell to the floor, I scrambled and crawled backwards as fast as I
could, until my back hit the wall.

"How could you make me do that?" I yelled, as loud as I was able, tears streaming down my face. Even as
the words were coming out of my mouth, I knew it was the wrong thing to say, but I couldn't stop it. "How
could you? How could you kill him? You promised!"

Otis's expression changed from one of amusement, to pure, fury. "What?"

"You said you wouldn't kill him if I did what you asked!" I said, sobbing out each word. "And I did what
you asked, and you still killed him! Why did you lie?"

"Fuck you, I lied!" Otis said, his voice dangerously angry as he headed towards me. "I said how he'd die if
you didn't do it. I never said how he'd die if you did."

As he advanced towards me, I realized what a mistake I'd made by crying and expressing my distaste. I
looked around and realized there was no place I could go. He kept coming closer and closer.

"And who the FUCK gave you the right to EVER tell me ANYTHING, Bitch?" He reached out, grabbed me
by the bloody flannel shirt and hauled me to my feet, shaking me. "I told you from day one, this is MY
FUCKING WORLD. I CALL THE GODDAMNED SHOTS. And you are NEVER to question ANYTHING I do, you
GOT THAT, WHORE?"

As he shook me with one hand, yelling into my face, he brought the other hand up to my throat, wrapped
it around and started squeezing, hard. I gasped, feeling my air supply getting cut off. I struggled, reaching
for his hands. My pitiful attempts to pull his hand off my throat did absolutely no good.

"I thought you just might be FUCKING DIFFERENT!" He alternated between sneering and shouting, as he
kept his fingers on my throat, pressing just a little bit every few seconds. "But you're not, you're just like
EVERYONE ELSE. I NEVER should have let you LIVE. Fuck you, bitch! FUCK EVERYONE WHO EVER KNEW
YOU TOO!"

Then, as he squeezed he went back to shaking me as well. It took longer than I expected, but eventually,
my body had enough and I passed out cold. I figured I was never going to wake up.

====================
*Banjo and Sullivan "I'm At Home Getting Hammered (While She's Out Getting Nailed)" Words have been
altered for this story. Original words go:

"We started in the mornin', Carried well into the night

Throwin' dirty dishes with all our might
It's a sad commentary on a marriage that's failed
I'm at home getting hammer while she's out getting nailed."

OtherAuthor Notes: We're in the home stretch now. Two more chapters after ths. *G* Thank you to
everyone who's been reading this and taking the time to let me know. I really do appreciate it.

One Sharp Pain, Then Nothing.

If there are any mistakes made in this chapter? I won't be able to fix them until AFF is fully operational
again.

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil's
Rejects. I do not own most of these characters. They are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate films, and
whoever else holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan fiction, intended for the sole
purpose of entertainment. No one has been paid to write or host this story. No one is paid or will have to
pay to read it.

THE STORY ITSELF DISCLAIMER: This story is rated NC-17, for disturbing images and excessive violence
as much if not more than sexual contents. If stories involving murder, rape, extreme violence,
cannibalism, humiliation, and so on, are not your cup of tea, DO NOT READ IT. If you are under the age of
18 don't read it either.

Specific Chapter Warning: Nothing you ain't seen already. Violence, bad language, etc.

Chapter Fourteen
One Sharp Pain, then Nothing.

Another useless miracle happened and I lived through Otis's assault. When I woke up, I was locked up in
my box. My neck and throat felt as if someone had squeezed them in a vice grip for a few hours. The rest
of me wasn't feeling much better. Well, maybe it wasn't a useless miracle, maybe Otis was more clever
than anyone gave him credit for, and maybe he knew the exact amount of abuse he could pile on me and
just manage to not kill me.

What woke me up were the sounds of Otis doing his "thing" with his latest victim. And from the sounds of
it, his thing was getting pretty rough. I could hear the muffled cries of someone trying to scream
through a gag. I could hear Otis laughing as he worked the poor girl, whoever she was, over. Part of me
felt bad, because I wondered if he was being rougher with her, because he was disappointed in me.
Another part of me was just relieved it was her and not me, taking the abuse.

I closed my eyes, trying to sleep, but not sure I would with the noise going on. The bed started moving,
Otis was getting down to business. He was either doing some serious beating or some serious fucking.
Maybe both. Poor woman would never know how good he could be in the sack, if he felt like it. Or, maybe
she was the lucky one. Knowing how good he could be hadn't done me a damned bit of good.

I knew now that my reaction to the death of David was probably the worst thing I could have done. I'd
disappointed Otis, and the worst part was that apparently, I'd been doing something "right" up until then,
and I blew it with that. The problem was that I had no clue what "right" I'd been doing, or how to
continue doing it, if I ever had the chance. My luck was going to run out real soon, if it hadn't already.

Lying in my box, I wept. Not just for me, but for the girl above me getting killed. For David who's sins
were sharing similar features to Danny, being a horny bastard, and running into Otis. For all the people
Otis had killed and all the ones he would kill. I cried for Karen too, the woman I once was. Yeah, Otis had
managed to kill me, he just hadn't left a body for anyone to find. I was Otis's Whore, all right, even if I
didn't have a lable to prove it, that's who I was.

Soon enough I'd join all the other victims and I'd be dead too. What surprised me was that I still didn't
want to die. After all of this, I still clung to life. It wasn't like I had any hope of surviving, there was
none. I would never get away. Now that I'd pissed off Otis, I doubted I'd even have the occasional fuck
fest to at least bring a little brightness into a pretty much all black life. All I had was my stubborn
insistence on fighting to survive. A part of me hated myself for that. Everything would be a whole lot
easier, if I'd just give up and die.

*****

My first punishment, after the initial beating, was being kept in the box for about two days, as I was best
able to estimate. No food, no water. When Otis finally opened the box to let me out, I nearly cried for joy
at the sight of him. Not necessarily that it was him, but that I was seeing another human being. He said
nothing though, just opened the box and stormed away, out of the room.

The first thing I did was crawl, yes crawl to the bathroom. Just like that night so long ago, I realized
that my only source of water was going to be the toilet until I had enough fluid to gain some of my
strength back. Unlike that first night, I didn't hesitate, I just did it.

When I felt enough of my strength coming back, I turned on the tub and drank from that instead. I
thought about climbing into the tub and taking a bath; I was still covered in blood, mostly David's, but
some of mine as well. I decided against it, knowing that if anyone, particularly Baby, decided she needed
the bathroom, I'd never be able to get out fast enough and I couldn't take one of her "temper tantrums." I
settled for splashing water on me to get the worst of it out, then crawled back to Otis's room.

I went over to the pile of dirty clothes and poked around. Tiny hadn't forgotten about me, there was a
bag with another can of that bubblegum and vanilla tasting "Big Red" soda, and a peach. I devoured the
peach, hiding the pit in with the dirty laundry. When I was done with that, I felt almost human. I curled
up on the dirty laundry and fell asleep.

*****

The second punishment was Otis's refusal to acknowledge me, which went on for quite a bit longer than
two days. during that time, he just totally pretended I didn't exist. If I tried to talk to him, he would act
as if he didn't hear me. That was as bad as being shoved in the box for two days. Maybe worse. At least
when I was in the box, I figured if I wasn't in the box, he'd acknowledge me. Now that I wasn't, and he
could pretend I wasn't there, it sometimes made me feel that maybe I had died and didn't know it. Maybe
Tiny had already dragged my corpse out of the room and taken it wherever he took the dead bodies Otis
and the others had finished with.
Just as I was beginning to believe that yeah, maybe I was a ghost, Tiny came in the room to take care of
the latest body problem and Otis handed him a note that told him to take me to the cages. Tiny read the
note looking confused, then picked me up and lugged me back to the basement.

None of the people who had been there when I arrived were there, but there were plenty of new people.
As Tiny walked down the isle, probably trying to figure out what cage I should go into, the others were
all staring at me suspiciously I was naked and had "Otis's Whore" carved on my thigh, I'm sure they didn't
know who I was, or who's side I was on.

Poor Tiny didn't know what to do with me. I wasn't a typical victim anymore. He'd seen me around the
house for quite awhile. Longer than any other prisoner of the place. I wasn't family, of course, but I
wasn't one of the others either. So, what was he to do with me?

He finally put me all alone in the smallest cage down there, a cage that was set a bit apart from the
others and very close to his bed. I stayed there for awhile, but Tiny still had trouble seeing me as an
ordinary prisoner. He made sure to give me some water every day and most days some food too. This had
its advantages for the other people down there, because giving me water every day, reminded Tiny that
maybe he should give the others water too. But, I think I was really hated by all the others and if the
had their chance, they would have ripped me to pieces. I didn't care. I was cold, lonely, and miserable. I
spent most of my time curled up, trying to sleep.

I didn't see Otis for a long time, not even to come down and select a new playmate. I would find out later
that the reason why, was because he, Rufus, and Baby had kidnapped five cheerleaders from the local high
school, and Otis was really fascinated by them. Apparently, these were the ones who would finally
understand him, at least that's what he believed. Praise be to the devil himself, five cheerleaders would
be the ones. Yes, even the bogeyman was still, deep down, a man after all, and able to fall for the butt
twitching skirt and sexual appeal of the oldest fantasy material around, god-damned cheerleaders.

Of course he was wrong and they weren't the miracle disciples he'd been hoping for all his life. So, they
had to die. But, they lasted a fair bit. Not as long as me, but then again, they probably weren't willing to
sell their souls to Otis take a sacrimental drink from the fucking toilet, and then carve their eternal
devotion into their thigh to prove it.
While the whole hip-hip-hurray over the cheerleaders was going on, Halloween also came. And,
naturally, the Firefly gang looked at Halloween as most people might look at Christmas or the sacred
coming of the next messiah.

There was a big fuss that went down on Halloween, involving a group of kids that had been kidnapped by
the family. Why this group was so special and different from all the others, I didn't know, but they
caused quite the stir around the place. One of the girls was tied up on Tiny's bed. When she asked if she
could leave, Tiny untied her. She started to run, but Otis ended up catching her and throwing her in
another cage. Otis never even noticed I was there and this was the first time I'd seen him in awhile.

Something very serious happened over Halloween, something that couldn't be overlooked as easily as all
the previous kidnappings and murders. I had no idea what it was, but when Halloween was over, I sensed
something in the air and that something wasn't good. Even Tiny seemed preoccupied and a bit sad, as if he
sensed something was going to happen that would change things forever.

When Otis came down to get fresh victims to play with, I noticed physical changes in him. The most
obvious was that he was growing a beard. Beyond that, I think he was starting to go outside more in the
daylight and maybe even eating better, because he was starting to look less pale. This combination of sun
and proper diet seemed to be helping with that infection that made his eyes always look red and runny.
He still looked dangerous, but he didn't look as crazy anymore. In fact, had I only run into him on the
streets, I would have thought he was probably just a grubby biker or something. Beyond that, I wouldn't
have given him a second look.

Now that I think about it, that's exactly what he wanted, exactly why he was doing all that. So he would
be less noticeable, so he could fit into the "real world" easier.

Me? I spent most of my time in my cage, wondering why I hadn't died yet, wondering why I was still
fighting to stay alive. Clinging to life seemed so stupid now, a stubborn habit I just couldn't let go.

Then, one day he came down to the basement and noticed me. I don't know if he thought I had died down
here, but it seemed by his actions, that this was the first time he'd seen me down in the basement. He
came over, opened the cage door, and motioned for me to come out.
I pulled myself to my feet and walked over to him. He shut the cage behind us, and directed me to walk in
front of him. He hadn't said a word to me. I didn't say any to him as he lead me up the stairs, through the
house and to his room.

When we got to his room, he still didn't say anything, just wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. Not
in the mean way, but in the good way. I wrapped my arms around him and returned that kiss with all the
enthusiasm I could muster. Tiny might have been making sure I had just enough food and water to
survive, but he wasn't spending his time talking to me. The other prisoners hated me. I was missing the
human contact. I think even if Otis had started yelling at me, I would have been thrilled, just to have
another person paying some attention to me. His kissing me, and doing it in the "nice way," was enough to
make me want to cry. Neither of us spoke for awhile, we just got down to some serious exchange of body
fluids.

It wasn't until round two of the mattress mambo, when I was on top, moving as best I could, that Otis
started playing his games with me. "Who are you?"

"Your whore" I responded. The days had long past where I had to even think about that question.

"Forever?"

"Until the day you kill me," I answered in a completely matter-of-fact voice.

I could tell my words pleased him, even if he didn't tell me in so many words. At times like this, Otis was
more of a man of action.

*****

There were times when I speculated that the only reason I might have been allowed to live after David's
death, was only because Otis had devoted enough time and energy to me that I sort-of knew him. I didn't
understand him, no one did. I wasn't his friend, he didn't have any of those. The only people Otis cared
about, besides Otis, were his family. But, I had learned enough about him, that in most cases I was at least
predictable. I could say the things he wanted to hear without too much, or in some cases, any prompting.
He could still rape me if he wanted, and on those occasions where he preferred sex over rape? Well, I
knew how to handle that too. Not only did I know what to do, but he never had to worry about
hesitation. "Sorry dear, but I just don't feel like doing that tonight," were words he'd never hear from me,
and it wasn't just because I was afraid of him either. He knew I liked it when the sex was good and I think
he got a big kick out of that.

Despite the fact that I was so messed up, that thinking was becoming a rather difficult process and it was
becoming easier to just blank out, I'm sure I spent a whole lot more time thinking about Otis than he spent
thinking about me. Then again, in a twisted way, he'd become God to me, and why should God concern
himself with me? He held power over life and death. He certainly wasn't anything like the God I'd grown
up to believe in, but even that God had started out as a rather vengeful, bloodthirsty, bastard until he
saw a pretty virgin and decided it was time to have a kid. Maybe, if given half the chance, Otis would
evolve into someone who would learn to suffer the inferiors. It wouldn't wouldn't happen in my lifetime
though.

I was back in the room, and for awhile, life was like I'd come to know and different at the same time. I
spent time in his room and in my box, which was the same, but leaving became harder. I was told by Otis
and later Baby, that if I ever went downstairs, I would be killed. I wondered why and the conclusion I
came up with fit in with everything else going on. The Firefly clan was expecting visitors. Not welcome
ones either, but visitors they wouldn't be able to deny. They weren't sure if their arrival would be bold
or casual, but they couldn't have a filthy, half starved, naked woman running around the place. How do
you explain that to the Avon Lady?

Losing the right to go downstairs didn't bother me all that much, because my walking hadn't improved
any and was in fact, getting worse. Tiny was still in my corner too, and bringing me food, so really, I had
very little reason to go downstairs. Sometimes I was escorted to the bathroom, sometimes I had to drag
my way there alone, but at least I could get there.

After Halloween, Thanksgiving came. I knew that because Tiny brought me leftover turkey a couple
times. One time he brought me a turkey sandwich with stuffing and cranberry sauce, on a roll. I stared at
it, almost afraid of it, then I realized what it was and I almost cried. I wonder if Tiny knew he'd made
one of my, or should I say, Karen's favorite sandwiches growing up. We in New England called it a "Cape
Codder." It was one of the biggest meals he ever brought me, and I was able to get over my nostalgia so I
could eat it.

I knew when it was the Christmas season, because Mama came into the room and put one of those plastic
"candles" with the red and yellow flame shaped light bulbs in the window. Yeah, a family who lived in the
middle of nowhere, but Mama decorated the windows as if she expected neighbors and carolers to stop by.
My family had grown up with lights just like that. I think every child of the '70s remembers those lights.
If your family didn't use them, your neighbors most likely did. The first night Mama put it up, Otis was
out of the room. She plugged it in, turned it on, and left without a word.

When Mama left, I moved so I was across from the window and just stared at the light. When Otis came
back, he looked at the light for a moment, then shook his head, rolling his eyes. Obviously he didn't see the
point. But, he didn't remove it either. He turned it off every night before he went to bed, but wouldn't
turn it on in the evening. Mama or I did that. If Otis was leaving me alone, but not locking me in the box, I
would just sit and stare at that light. I was really sorry when Christmas ended and that light was
removed.

After the Holiday season was over, I started losing track of the days again. Otis continued with his
raping/killing games. He also continued raping, beating, and having sex with me. What he stopped doing
was ranting as much. He stopped talking about being leader of the rebellion, or about how no one could
understand him. It was like he was becoming more - sane. Yes, killing people, raping people, all his little
games were signs of an unbalanced mind, but some of his insanity was the type that would make it really
difficult to slide under the radar if forced to leave this house. Being grubby doesn't attract a lot of
attention. Ranting and raving about the human subject as being processes through a vehicle or other
things along that vein were likely to get you a trip to the loony bin at least for evaluation. It was that
sort of stuff he stopped doing.

After the Holiday Season, I believe in February, Grandpa died. No one came in and told me, but Baby came
to Otis's room and cried on his shoulder a few times and that's how I found out. Oddly enough, I was
rather sad to hear it. Grandpa had been a nut job, and probably in his day, he could murder, rape, torture
and mutilate with the best of them, but I knew him as the eccentric guy who told me stupid jokes. Yeah,
he also tried to feel me up and down, but the jokes he told, well, at least he made me feel as if I were
almost human.

After Grandpa died, things began to get even more tense around the house. Someone was visiting a lot
too, because I could hear a strange voice in the house. A male voice that was deep and carried really
well. I heard Baby referring to him as "Daddy." I heard Otis refer to him as many things, "Daisy" and
"Numb nuts" being two favorites, so I gathered the two of them shared no blood and liked it that way.
From what I could gather, everyone in the house were making plans for the day "Things happened."

I started to get really scared by this talk. It was clear the family was sensing their days were numbered,
which left me to wonder what would they do with me and the people in the basement when they felt the
noose really tighten? Would they kill everyone and leave no witnesses? Would they use us for hostages
in hopes of getting free?
Otis became more and more tense. This tension lead to him ignoring me a lot, as he became too busy to
bother. But, on the times he did decide to make me the focus of his anger, he became even more vicious.

He started sending me to the cages more and more too. One time when I was brought up, I saw my box had
been removed. I knew then that my days of having any freedom to go anywhere, to be able to use the
bathroom at least, were over. If I wasn't being used by Otis, I would be in the cage.

My times in the cage without being brought upstairs became longer and longer. Things in the basement
weren't so great either. Tiny was becoming affected by the worry the family was suffering and he would
forget to bring any of us any food or water for longer periods of time.

One night as I was curled up in my tiny cage, trying to sleep, Tiny came down, opened the door and
scooped me up. I wondered what was up, but said nothing. It had been so long since Otis had come down
and taken me, I was convinced he had forgotten about me. When Tiny brought me to Otis's room and put
me down, I had no clue how to react.

Otis was standing in his room, looking as if he was waiting for me. The moment Tiny left, he came over to
me, grabbed my arms and looked at me. "Who are you?"

I opened my mouth to tell him, but instead of words, a raspy, gasping sound came out. I closed my mouth,
swallowed and tried again. Again, my mouth tried to form words, but no sound was coming out.

"Answer me!" Otis demanded, shaking me.

I did nothing, just let him shake me.

"ANSWER ME!" Otis yelled now, shaking me harder. "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?"
I tried again to tell him my name and was completely unsuccessful My mouth opened and I tried and
tried to tell him. Gasping noises came from my throat, strange gurgling sounds, but no words. I felt as if I
were one of those talking dolls, but I was the one with the broken string. I'm never going to talk again, I
thought, my voice is broken and I won't live long enough for it to heal. That thought should have made
me sad, but it didn't. It didn't make me happy either, instead it was more of a calm, acceptance. Fate was
catching up to me, it was about time.

He gripped me harder, looking ready to kill me, then, just as fast his expression changed and he began to
laugh. "You're trying!" he said, between bouts of laughter, "I can see yer mouth moving. Okay, I'll cut you
some slack tonight, bitch but if you don't die before the next time I take you, you'd better be ready to say
it."

I silently hoped and prayed he was going to be nice to me, since he was cutting me some slack on my
inability to speak. Of course, he wasn't. He didn't beat me, but he threw me on the bed and raped me, being
hard and mean about it.

When he was finished using me as a sperm receptacle and recovered, he rolled on top of me, straddling
my waist. Normally, when he did that, he would sit on my stomach/hips, which was really painful, but
today he was raised slightly, putting his weight on his knees instead. He wrapped his hands around my
throat, but didn't squeeze, just rested them there. "Do you want to die?"

Part of me felt this was it, this was the moment everything had lead up to. Otis was going to kill me, just
as he promised. My luck had finally run out. Still, I shook my head, no.

"Are you sure?" His voice didn't sound as cold as it normally did when he was talking about my death. I
know I was reading things into it, that weren't true, because I would have sworn I he sounded almost sad.
"I could do it so quick, you'd barely know what happened. One sharp pain and then nothing."

The way he was speaking, he made death sound almost sexy. Still, I shook my head no. I wouldn't give him
permission to kill me. When the time came to end my life, he'd have to murder me like he'd done with
everyone else. I'd let him manipulate me so I'd ended up doing all the work the first time he raped me. I
had let him tell me to do a lot of things and done them all. I gave a guy a blow job, just so he could slit his
throat at the moment of death for some twisted purpose I still didn't understand, but I would not give
him this victory. I would not turn his murder of me into an assisted suicide instead. I was owed that
much.
"Fine, have it your way." He rolled off me and off the bed and put his jeans on. He half carried, half
dragged me down to the basement and locked me back into my tiny cage.

That was the last time I'd see his face.

The next time I saw him, he would be running through the basement with Baby, heading for the
emergency exit. He never even looked in my direction. I'd heard the gunfire upstairs earlier, we all had.
Most of the other prisoners were hopeful. I just waited to see what would happen.

The next people to come down the stairs were the police. Those in the cages who were able to, began
begging, weeping, and crying. They were convinced they were saved from death.

None of them seemed to remember that two of the worst ones in the family had escaped. And I was sure
I would never forget.

**********

Author's Notes: No, it's not over yet. There is an epilogue to this too.

Seeds of Memory (Epilogue)

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil's
Rejects. I do not own most of these characters. They are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate films, and
whoever else holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan fiction, intended for the sole
purpose of entertainment. No one has been paid to write or host this story. No one is paid or will have to
pay to read it.
THE STORY ITSELF DISCLAIMER: This story is rated NC-17, for disturbing images and excessive violence
as much if not more than sexual contents. If stories involving murder, rape, extreme violence,
cannibalism, humiliation, and so on, are not your cup of tea, DO NOT READ IT. If you are under the age of
18 don't read it either.

Specific Chapter Warning: None but the language.

Epilogue

Seeds of Memory

It's been six months since I was found in the basement by Deputy Coggs and the rest of the Ruggsville
police department. Six very long, very strange months, but, the doctors, the psychiatrists, the therapists,
they all tell me I'm going to be fine. And I'm actually starting to believe them.

I had everyone really worried the first few days, when I wouldn't talk or cry, or do much of anything.
The words "Post traumatic shock syndrome" and other bits of jargon were passed around. Doctors, shrinks,
everyone but the good fairy were coming in and out of my room, trying to get me to talk, laugh, maybe
even sing a little song or perform a little dance, to show some type of reaction other than to stare into
space. I stubbornly refused. I'd spent too much damned time being a performing dog for Otis, I didn't owe
these assholes anything. The only thing I would do is point to my thigh and the words "Otis's Whore"
letters carved into them, whenever they would ask my name. I think I did it in part, just to watch them
flinch.

Then, Coggs came in one day to visit. Coggs actually came every single day to visit me, sometimes even
bringing his wife. But on this particular day, he was alone and he had some news for me. Otis, Baby, and
Spaulding had been gunned down on the highway. They were dead.

I stared at him in total disbelief. There was no way Otis could be dead, Baby either. You can't kill the
devil. Spaulding, well, I didn't know him, so I couldn't say. But Otis and Baby were both the devil. Otis in
particular. He was immortal.
Coggs kept assuring me, they were dead, giving me some details, not all of them. I was sure at first he was
just saying this so I'd feel safe. Finally, he showed me photos of the three of them. They weren't pretty
photos either and Coggs would tell me later he really didn't want to show them to me, but was afraid
he'd have to, which was why he brought them.

He handed the pile to me. Freshly developed, 8 x 10 colored glossy photographs. Otis in the front seat of a
car, Baby and her father in the back seat. Blood was everywhere, along with a fair amount of guts and
other inner workings. I stared at the pictures for the longest time.

"I'm sorry I had to show those to you, honey," Coggs said. "But you have to believe me. They're dead and
they won't ever bother you again."

I started to shake like I was freezing, but I wasn't. Coggs' expression changed to one of alarm. "Honey,
what's wrong? Should I get the doctor?" He still called me "Honey" even though my hair had been washed
so he could see it was brown.

I shook my head to the suggestion of the doctor. I drew in a huge, gulp of air, then started sobbing. I had
enough fluids in me now. Tears streamed down my face and I didn't care, I just kept sobbing.

I was still hooked up to a few million dollars worth of machines that set off alarms every time anything
about me changed dramatically. So, when I started crying, nurses came to see what was up.

They found Coggs sitting on the bed, his arms around me, as I poured gallons of tears and buckets of snot
all over the front of his uniform. I was hugging him back, crying like a lost child who finally managed to
find her way home.

*****
I wish I could say that after crying, I soon became my old self and everyone was happy, but I'd be lying. I
was a wreck, emotionally and physically and we all had to work with that. I ended up staying in the
hospital for four months, not just because of physical problems, either. A good amount of that time was
spent having my brain unscrambled.

When word got out that there was someone who had lived almost a full year with The Devil's Rejects, as
the media had nicknamed Otis, Baby, and Spaulding, and was still alive to tell the tale, the media almost
fell over themselves to be the first to exploit me. Deputy Coggs, Sheriff Dobson, and the entire Ruggsville
police department worked their asses off to make sure I wasn't turned into some media freak. For a long
time, there were always two officers either in my room or right outside the door. I found out later a lot
of them were unpaid volunteers, doing this in their spare time. There were a lot of officers on the police
force that had children, many with daughters close to my age and I think they all looked at me as what
could have happened to their daughters.

Coggs was the most devoted to me though. He didn't come up to guard me, he came up to visit me. He
brought his wife, Mary Lou, a lot too. They fussed over me as if I were their daughter. As it turns out,
they didn't have a daughter, but they did have two sons, both grown up and living on their own. When
the doctors finally lifted my eating restrictions, Mary Lou made it her mission to bring in every food she
could think of to tempt me. When I was more free with my speech, I kidded her that she was going to
make me fat.

"Oh, I'll bet you've never worried about bein' fat your whole life, girl!" she said, laughing.

"You a little piggy girl? Can't keep her face out of the cake and ice cream?" I heard Otis's voice so clearly,
I would have sworn, he was in the room. I looked around for him, instantly panic stricken.

"Honey, you all right?" Mary Lou asked, seeing my fearful expression.

I took a deep breath and realized the voice came from inside my head. I was safe, Otis was still dead.
"Yeah, I'm okay," I finally managed to say. "I-I just was remembering something."

*****
Dr. Samuel Winston was my primary psychiatrist. He was an older gentleman who reminded me of Colonel
Sander's right down to his love of wearing white suits and string ties. It was his job to get me to talk
about what happened while I was staying with the Firefly's. And it wasn't an easy job at first.

The words "Stockholm Syndrome" came up in my treatment a fair bit, especially when the entire team of
headshrinkers were clucking over me. Dr. Winston dismissed Stockholm Syndrome the first private
session we had.

"Everyone, every situation is different," he explained to me. "You can't give a convenient tag to every
single kidnapping in which the victim is forced to deal with her kidnapper, forced to even learn to get
along with him. I dislike easy labels" I almost respected him just for saying this. All the other doctors
seemed to get off on finding a neat label to pin on me. When I couldn't talk, it was "Post Traumatic Shock
Syndrome." Now that I could talk and didn't spend all my time screaming how much I hated Otis and the
Firefly family, I was suffering from "Stockholm Syndrome."

I wasn't a model patient at first, I admit it. Deep down, I was certain if everything that happened,
everything I did while being Otis's Whore, got out, I'd be loathed by the world. And it was Dr. Winston's
job to get me to tell everything, so for a long time, our sessions were difficult as he tried to get me to
talk and I refused to tell him a lot about what happened. I'd stick to the basics so it ended up that any
information had to be pried out of me so our sessions almost ended up looking like a black comedy.

"How did that writing get into your thigh?" He'd ask.

"Knife," I'd say.

"Did you put it there yourself?"

"Sorta."
"Did you do it of your own free will?"

"Hm.. well, yes. And no."

"Would you care to elaborate?"

"No."

Then, one afternoon in the hospital, when it was just the two of us, he very casually asked me if there
was anything about being a captive I enjoyed.

Before I could think, I just blurted out with, "Yeah, having sex with a man who understood the female
orgasm was pretty fucking nifty." I leaned back in the bed, trying to gage his reaction. Enough was
enough, if the doctor wanted to continue to chat it up in my face, continue to be the man who treated the
girl who survived The Devil's Rejects, then yeah, he was going to have to deal with exactly who I was,
exactly who I had become.

"I would imagine," was all he said.

"Don't get me wrong, Doc," I continued, determined to shock him. "There was a lot of stuff having to do
with sex I'd rather forget." A vision of David, his dick spurting seed as his neck spurted blood filled my
vision for a moment, and I had to push it away before the tears started. "But, when Otis was in the right
mood. Well, he could really fuck. I mean really really fuck. Like a pro. I don't think I'll ever meet anyone
in my life who's as good in the sack as he could be."

"I hope for your sake that isn't true," Dr. Winston said, with of all things, a smile on his face.
My tough ass attitude faded with that smile. "Go ahead, say it."

"Say what?"

"That I'm some sicko pervert," I suggested, "that I had a lot of nerve enjoying sex with this necrophiliac
murderer, that I should be sentenced to the ninth level of Hell for having orgasms with the most
depraved maniac in the world. Go on, say it!"

"Would it make you feel better if I said that?" he asked.

"I-" I began, then shrugged. "I don't know. Part of me thinks it would."

"Well, I'm not going to," he said. "Because that's not the way I feel. You were in a terrible situation. You
were dealing with a man who was going to murder you. He wouldn't tell you when, but it was assumed
that it would happen someday. A lot of the time, you had no one but him. Of course if he was going to
offer you any type of comfort, any type of pleasure, you were going to grab for it. That doesn't make you
evil, that makes you human."

I stared at him in disbelief. Finally, someone was offering me a solution, a way to be able to face what I'd
done and not to feel guilty. Our session was supposed to be an hour that day. It ended up being five hours
as I told him everything I could remember.

*****
Eventually, my name was discovered, and everyone started calling me Karen. Eventually too, learned to
respond to that name. Once it was known who I was, and people were notified that I was alive, my
parents, Terry, and almost every friend I ever had came rushing to the Ruggsville hospital to visit me.

Terry cried bitterly that this was all her fault, because this happened when I was going to visit her. My
parents cried bitterly that it was all their fault for giving me a car that would be able to make the trip
to Texas to visit Terry. Other friends cried bitterly that I was forced to go through so much. I cried
bitterly because I hated seeing all of them in such pain. And I cried bitterly, because everyone seemed to
think this was the thing to do. Every time I bawled like a baby, everyone would nod and cry with me and
tell me how tears were so cleansing. I agreed to a certain point, but after awhile, tears stop being
cleansing and start just being a force of habit

Danny even came to visit me, when he found out. He offered to marry me, but instead of weeping, I
laughed. "You're such a goober," I said. "You don't want to marry me any more than I want to marry you.
You're just saying that because you feel guilty that I was held hostage for so long. You want to show me
I'm still desirable to men, that I can still lead a normal life after all of this."

"Well, maybe," he admitted, looking a little relieved that I wasn't taking him up on his offer of marriage
Then he got this almost guilty look on his face and asked, "Uh, is it true?"

"What?" I suspected I knew what was coming, but I figured I'd let him come out and ask me.

"Were you, uh, like, uh, raped and stuff?" Yes, that was the question I'd been expecting.

Why did everyone ask that question? Nobody ever said, "How did he beat you?" or "Did he ever whack you
with a dead trout?" or even, "Did he get pissed off at you when you farted?" It was always, "were you
raped?" I was getting so tired of that question. Still, I nodded. "Yeah, Danny, I was raped and stuff."

"I'm sorry."
That was another thing I'd noticed. Every time a guy found out I was raped, he would immediately say,
"I'm sorry" as if he was personally responsible for it happening. As if by being born with a penis, he was
automatically responsible, not just for his own penis, but for the actions of every other penis in the world
and idiot that happened to be attached to those penises.

"It's okay," I said, finding it amusing that I was the one offering comfort to him, rather than him to me. I
didn't add the real truth which was, 'if you really want to be sorry , be sorry that the lunatic was a
better fuck than you were.'

*****

My parents wanted me to come home when I was released, but I refused. I loved them, and eventually I
did want to come back home while I figured out what to do with my life. But I wasn't ready to go home
now. Jed and Mary Lou Coggs offered to let me stay with them, and I accepted. My parents started to
kick up a big fuss about this, until Dr. Winston told them in his opinion, staying in Ruggsville for awhile
was the best thing I could do.

"I want to be able to continue treating her," he said. "She's responding beautifully to our sessions. Also,
this gives her a chance to confront her demons. She'll be living in the same town where she was
kidnapped. She'll be forced to deal with it. Once she deals with it, she can move on past it.

My parents finally relented and returned home, with promises to visit whenever they could and to call
me at least three times a week. Since I was over the age of eighteen, I found their "willingness" to let me
stay in Texas rather amusing, but I didn't say so. Instead, I thanked them for their love and concern and
promised them that when I felt ready, I would return home.

I moved in with the Coggs. Mary Lou fixed up the guest room with a colorful bedspread and lots of fresh
flowers. Both Jed and Mary Lou immediately made me feel like family. Their two sons were on their own,
but still came over often for cookouts and other family activities. The older one was married with kids of
his own, so brought the family over. I was included in all these family events from day one, without
question. The older one, Jesse, and his wife Faye, even started referring to me as "Sis," and their kids
called me "Auntie Karen."
I continued to see Dr. Winston once a day and medical doctors at least once a week. There were still a
lot of procedures I'd need before I was 100% better. My knee was going to have to be operated on, and the
orthopedic surgeon was betting I'd have to have an artificial kneecap put in. I had other bones that
would need to be re broken and reset to make sure I'd heal right. But, they were waiting until I'd gained
back more of my strength and more of my weight. Yeah, no one was going to call me fat now. In the
meantime, I had a special brace that helped me walk on my bad knee, and crutches if it got really bad.

I made Jed drive me to where the house had been. He explained to me how Wydell had brought Otis, Baby,
and Spaulding there, for purposes no one really wanted to discuss. Now Wydell was dead, and where the
house once stood, was just a charred pile of rubble. But I insisted I wanted to see it. I told Jed that I
needed to see it was gone, burned, and that I'd never have to worry about going back.

I walked around the property, poking at some of the rubble that hadn't been cleaned up. I found a dirty
white tank top that must have been blown from the wreckage, so it never burned. Ironically, it had a flag
on it and the words "Burn This Flag," yet it had managed to be saved from the fire. I'd seen Otis wear it a
million times. I picked it up and studied it.

"You don't understand!" Again, I could hear Otis speaking so clearly in my head, the place where Otis
stayed alive forever. "The rest of the world, they're all dead. I'm not really killing anyone, I'm only
bringing them to the state they have already chosen. You, my whore, might be one of the few people in
this world that are still alive. But you'll be dead soon. At least once you die, you'll know you lived. Most
people never know that."

I held the shirt tighter in my hands, hearing that voice. "Most people, never get beyond the entrapments
of their own minds! Stuck, in the boring routines of their own makings! As the leader, it's my job to show
them what they were meant to be, what they picked for themselves, years before they ever met me."

Jed watched me, looking worried. "Did you want to keep that?" he asked me, pointing to the shirt.

I blinked, suddenly back in reality. I wasn't upstairs, I wasn't in the house, there was no house for me to
be in. I saw the shirt in my hands and flung it away from me, as if it were dead and crawling with
maggots. "Hell no! I just wanted to see if his fucking stench still clung to it, and yeah, it does."

Relief flooded into Cogg's expression, and he rubbed the top of my head affectionately. "You're going to be
okay, Karen. May not seem like it now, but you will be. Everyone is so proud of how well you're doing."
The irony of all this "pride" in me, never escaped me. I was the hero of Ruggsville, the hero of all my
friends and family, simply for surviving. I'd done nothing good for anyone, in fact, was costing the town a
lot of money (they were taking care of my medical bills, out of some misplaced feeling of guilt, I guess)
and other people a lot of pain as they had to deal with what I'd become. Yet, I was a hero, just because I
never forgot, "It's in with the good air, out with the bad." All because I stubbornly clung to life, when I
should have just rolled over and died.

The other place I made Jed take me was the spot where it all ended, where The Devil's Rejects were
killed. He really didn't want to do that and even called Dr. Winston to make sure it was all right. Dr.
Winston told him it would actually be good for me to see the spot, it would re-enforce to me that they
were dead and apparently, I could not have that reinforced to me too much. So, reluctantly, both Jed and
Mary Lou drove up there with me in the car.

We parked by the side of the road and I got out of the car to look. It had all been cleaned up nice and
neat, of course, but I imagined I could see the blood for a moment. The car still moving as the passengers
were fired upon, their bodies jerking with the impact of the bullets.

I waited to hear Otis's voice in my head, waited to see if he'd yell at me, or insult me, but my mental
version of Otis stayed quiet. I guess being confronted with his real counterparts death spot, shut him up.
I was grateful for that; he spent way too much time talking to me as it was.

After a bit, I nodded and said we could leave. Jed and Mary Lou seemed really happy I didn't want to
stick around any longer. They ended up taking me to a diner in town for lunch. We ate burgers and talked
about life, about their grandchildren, about the next church rummage sale. We talked about everything
but what had happened to me. I felt almost normal.

My insurance company came through, believe it or not, and gave me money for the loss of my Chevette. It
was considered "Stolen" and that was that. I used the money to buy a used Jeep. Mary Lou's brother
owned the dealership and he gave me a really good deal on it. I figured if I took decent care of it, I'd be
able to drive it back to New England when the time came to go home.

Everyone considered my progress fantastic. Dr. Winston told me every time I saw him, that I was doing
better than many doctors thought I would. Jed and Mary Lou told me all the time how wonderful it was
that I was recovering from so much. My parents in every one of their many phone calls to me, told me
how much they loved me, how proud of me they were.

Yup, I was quite the girl. I had been through hell and back, and I was going to be all the stronger for it. I
was told that honesty was the best way to get through this, so I was honest with everyone on how I felt
about things. When I was in town one day with Mary Lou and started having a panic attack because of
seeing a blonde woman from the back, I told Mary Lou that it was because she reminded me of Baby. I told
Jed that I refused to drive by where Spaulding's Fried Chicken and Gasoline stand was, even though it
had been sold and converted into a regular gas station, no museum, no fried Chicken, just gasoline, oil
changes, and clean restrooms.

I told Dr. Winston of the the times when I'd wake up in a cold sweat, thinking I was in the box, then
getting into a panic because I wasn't in the box, so I was afraid Otis would come in and start hurting me. I
told him about the nightmares where David got to die over and over again, in the same gruesome fashion.
I told him how sometimes, instead of David, it was Danny who died. I told him about how I'd hear Otis in
my head a lot, especially when confronted with something that he'd commented on, like when my weight
was brought into the discussion. I told him I was paranoid about eating enough to be full, afraid of
becoming that "little piggy girl" again.

I was the god damned perfect patient. I was honest with everyone, I was straightforward with everyone.
I kept no secrets from anyone who should know.

Except..

There was one thing I did that I told no one about. Almost every day, if the weather allowed, I would
drive out to where the end had come for Otis. I'd pull off to the side of the road, get out of my jeep, and
climb up the ridge, so I was right above the spot where I could best figure he died.

And for hours, I'd pick wildflowers, and one by one, toss them on the road.

The End
Hard Candy - The Real Story
 Hayley awoke from a haze. Last thing she had remembered was she had slipped Jeff a roofie and
had lured him into the other room by starting to strip, hoping to give her time till he passed out. Then as
she was dancing everything started to go fuzzy, then black.
"Shit!" she said. Somehow she must have gotten the drinks mixed up and drugged herself. She tried
to reach up and rub her eyes but her hands were bound behind her back. She opened her eyes to see Jeff
standing over her smiling.
"Wake up sleepy head. That was a nice trick you tried with the drinks, just to bad I noticed and
switched them. The one good thing though was it made my job so much easier."
"Let me go asshole." she yelled at him. He could hear the fear in her voice and it was starting to
make him hard. "No, I think we should have a little fun first." Haley struggled with her bonds as reached
for her. He leaned down and looked her right in the eyes. "You're going to do exactly what I tell you to,
or else.. . . well, let's just say it won't be fun for you." She spit in his face. He slapped her, hard enough for
her to get the point. She meekly nodded yes, fear in her eyes. His dick twitched, straining against his
pants. He reached for her head, running his hands through her soft pixie cut. He then grabbed it and
pulled her to her knees. Tears started to run down her cheeks because she knew what would come next.
Jeff unzipped his trousers and pulled out his cock. He rubbed it softly over her lips.
"Lick it." he demanded.
Hayley's tongue slowly slid up the shaft. She wanted to bite it but she knew that would be bad
for her. As her tongue worked his cock he reached down to her little gray sports bra, yanking it up and
exposing her little, pert breasts. The chilly air caused her nipples to harden. Feeling her tongue starting
to tire, Jeff grabbed the back of her head and slowly started to fuck her mouth. After a few minutes she
started to get used to the size so he picked up the pace. Both hands on her head he pulled her down
further, making her deep throat him. She started coughing, the vibrations of her throat bringing him
close. He looked down at her, her big, tear stained eyes looking up at him and that set him off. He buried
himself in her throat, blasting his load right to her stomach. He released her head, causing her to pull
away coughing, trying to catch her breath.
"Please, you got what you want, can I go now?" she asked between gasps.
"Oh, I want more than that sweetie."
He lifted her to her feet ripped her sports bra right off. He grabbed her breast and moved his he
to it, running his tongue over it. He gave it a quick peck and then slowly ran his tongue down Haley's
chest, over her toned abs, to her belly button. He felt her shiver, his dick twitched again. He slowly lifted
her striped skirt up to her waist. He then grabbed the crotch of her leggings and ripped them away,
getting a startled shriek for Haley in the process. She was wearing a cute little pink underwear with
white polka-dots. He slowly traced his finger along them, feeling her slit through the material. He then
yanked those off and put them in his pocket, a trophy of this conquest. He removed his pants and got
behind Haley, grinding his cock along her ass. Within minutes he was hard again and ready to go. He
grabbed Haley by the wrists and brought her to the couch. She resumed crying, knowing what happens
next.
"Please, please, I'll blow you as many times as you want, just please don't do this."
Jeff had come too far now. He was going to fuck her no matter what.
He sat down on the couch and pulled her down. Haley struggled but she was easily overpowered.
Jeff lined up with her pussy and slowly pushed in till he hit the barrier. "Ready to be a woman?" With
that he pulled her down, filling her up. Haley screamed, tears pouring from her eyes, her innocence
stolen. She had hoped it would be with someone special, not with a man raping her. Jeff gave her a few
seconds to get used to him then he began fucking her. "Damn it honey, your pussy is like a vice grip." he
said. Haley really didn't hear him, her mind in a daze. "It wasn't supposed to be like this." she thought. "I
was going to drug him and make him pay for what he did. It went so simple for his last buddy." Soon Jeff
switched positions turning her away into a reverse cowgirl. Haley couldn't help but start to moan, her
body betraying her to this new feeling. Jeff noticing this, reached around her and started tweaking her
clit, sending waves of pleasure through her body. He started driving into her harder, causing her to
scream every time he went to the hilt. He got up while still fucking her and lowered her to the ground,
ass up. He could feel her pussy quivering, knowing she was about to cum. Right as she was about to go he
shoved his thumb up her ass. Haley's body quaked as she was rocked with her first orgasm and passed out.
Her pussy clenched down on Jeff's dick, causing him to unload inside her. After a minute he got up and
had a cigarette.
Haley opened her eyes, having recovered from her orgasm. "Can I please go now?" she weakly
asked.
"Not yet." said Jeff, reaching for the phone. "I have a few friends I want you to meet."
Haley's eyes go wide.
I've Heard Stories About You
1981-
Her pale, slender fingers squeezed tighter. The throat beneath them convulsed as he tried to call for
help.. or mercy. The only response is her fingers twitching to grasp tighter around the reddened column
of flesh. 'Never again you son of a bitch, you hear me? Never again!' She says, in a raspy voice. This man
deserved this. To lose his life slowly by her hands. His dirty fingernails scratched at her upper arms, the
only parts of him that he had the energy left to move. Finally, his struggling ended and his body fell
limp. His eyes remained open and staring, his mouth left open in the act of gasping for his last breaths.
'Never again,' she whispers, keeping her grip around his neck tight. Under her body, she can feel the last
twitches of his nervous system taking hold and leaving in short bursts of random convulsions.

She takes a deep breath and releases her fingers, sure that there's no possible way that he could be alive
any longer. Her muscles cramp as she moves off of him and kneels in the mud next to the now lifeless body
of her father. He was never her father, really. A man that happened to married to her mother for a
decade and provided half of the genes she, herself, is now cursed with. Thankfully, most people remarked
how like her mother she looked, rather than any similarities between her and this man. He'd taken to
beating both her and her mother until either of them passed out, unsure when or even -if- they'd ever
wake again. Soon, the beatings turned to more intimate touches when she was still barely the age of most
kindergarteners, and by the fourth grade it was all out rape. The mental and verbal abuse were a
constant even before she'd been born. This man had gotten what he'd deserved.. for both her's and her
mother's sakes.

She felt nothing as she forcibly removed life from the man's body. Her body, mind, emotions.. all of it,
completely numb. Whether by terror or relief, she can't say. Still, as she stared down at the man, nothing.
No tears in her eyes, no clensh in her stomach or lump in her throat. Only the rapid rise and fall of her
breathing and the sound of blood rushing in her ears. Her dark red hair clings to her face, wet with rain
and mud. The rage she felt causes her nearly nude body to tremble as she stands and looks around for a
place to drag the body. The lake. Of course. Her eyes roam over the thick green bushes before catching a
glimpse of the reflected moon beyond some thinning trees, on the lake's edge.

With the last bit of strength, fuelled purely by determination, she drags the lifeless body of her father;
using his own belt as a dragging noose around his neck, to do so. She doesn't feel the sharp pebbles in the
mud, on the naked soles of her feet. Or the rain pelting the rest of her naked skin, aside from a bra and
pair of panties. None of it matters to her, right now. She wades through the murky water of Crystal Lake
and allows the body to float behind her, as she does so. The lake seems eerily still, aside from her
movements, causing the splashing water and rain to sound even louder in the darkness. She wallows back
to the bank to find a heavy rock, then drags it out to where the body floats silently. She hauls the rock
up and sets it roughly on the dead man's stomach, ensuring that he'll remain on the bottom of the lake
forever...or, until someone discovers it. By which time, she'll hardly be around.

She doesn't bother to look back at the water as she wallows out of it. Her breathing regulates itself as
she walks, zombie-like, toward a rotting dock. Some of the planks of wood hung down into the water, but
she stepped over them as if they were a natural part of how it had been made. A shiver wracks her body
and she lowers herself to sit on the edge of the dock. Her legs hang over the edge, but not quite long
enough to reach into the water. This lake is surrounded in legends and horror stories. She's added to
them, now. But, was she trully a murderer? Or a vindicator? The hero or the villain? Whatever it made
her, the act she'd committed, she didn't care. It was done and couldn't be undone. She has no regrets.
Would never have them, even if she were found and laid to rot in a jail cell somewhere. It would be
better than life with that man. That man and his horrible hands and mouth. The thought sends another
shiver along her spine and she brings her knees up to rest her chin on them.

Where would she go, now?

((Firstly! Let me warn anyone that reads this...I know my writing rather sucks. I'm posting this raw;
uneditted. And, I have a bad habit of not finishing stories in a quick manner. I'm sorry if some of my
chapters are short.. I will only be able to write bits and pieces as they come to me. This was just sort of a
plot bunny that nagged me. I haven't pre written anything for it. So, if I write myself into a
corner..well..fuck me. :) I will do my best not to. This story will take place in 1981, when Jason still has his
original body and hasn't been.. er.. resurrected into a...well..whatever he is, now. So, I don't consider it
Necrophilia when my character and Jason end up together (which will be happening.) Also, my character
is loosely based on myself.. with the abuse and background story. So, don't think I'm poking fun at forced
incest, abuse, or any of that. I take it VERY seriously.. and this story is sort of a way for me to release
some of my pent up frustration in dealing with it, myself. So..anyways.. this is the beginning bit.))

2
Jason's fingers tensed around the long, slim piece of wood in his hand. A makeshift club of sorts. He'd
found it while foraging in the old camp, and with the dangerously rusty nails spiking the very edge of it,
he could hardly pass up the opportunity to take it. He watches as the girl, stripped down to her
underwear, drags the body of a man he'd seen her kill into the water. Jason could easily enough help her
with the mediocre task, but something in the determined grunts and shoves she kept dealing her victim
told him that it would be far more entertaining to watch. Her resourcefulness surprised him; the use of
the belt and the rock to keep the man pinned to the bottom of the lake. Resourcefulness that, if allowed
to develop, could very well match his own.

He keeps himself still, hardly daring to breathe during the entire thing. Occasionally, his fingers tensed
on the piece of wood out of reflex to the excitement of the violence. As she moves toward the small pier,
he follows her keeping behind the darkness of the bushes. She sat there. On the dock, in her underwear, in
the rain. What a strange creature. He'd seen other girls and women sit on the pier in their flashy bathing
suits, but never in the rain. They would bathe in the sun, leaving themselves open to whatever means of
attack he chose. Her shoulders didn't shudder and she didn't seem to be hiding her face, as if sobbing. She
barely moved, once she rested her chin on her knees, her back toward him. Now was the perfect time.

He takes carefully measured and nearly silent steps toward her. The voice of his mother seemed oddly
silent now. Not encouraging her special boy, or discouraging him from this task. Usually, she would act as
his mental cheerleader or scolder, depending on the nature of the task. But, now? The only sound he could
hear was rain and his own sloshy footsteps as they landed in the mud. Perhaps, his mother hadn't decided
what to do either? This is, undoubtedly, a first; someone being murdered at this lake by someone other
than himself. But, the rage that had been so clear on the girl's face just before she'd managed to pin the
man down and choke the life from him, told of a story behind it. Perhaps, like Jason, she was protecting
something of her own? Like Jason, doing away with someone guilty? Would Mother permit him to kill
someone doing as he did? It was too much to think about.

His footsteps pause at the very edge of the dock, before taking one step onto the creaky old wood. The
noise didn't seem to startle her, if she even heard it. He resumes his carefully spaced steps toward her
and still, she doesn't move. As he raises the piece of wood above his head, the rain causes the material of
his soaked shirt to rub against itself, loudly. At the sound, she raises her head, slightl and closes her eyes.
'I've heard stories about you,' she says, just loud enough to be heard over the rain. He pauses and tilts his
head to the side in confusion. She'd known he was there? For how long? Did she know that he'd watched
her kill that man? 'There's a lot of stories to be heard about this place,' she continues, as if unaware of the
danger she presently sits in. 'There's noone here but me, now, Jason. You can kill me, if you like. If that's
what it'll take for you. But, let me have this night before you do so. This is a night of justice.' Her voice
was strangely even. Eerily so. Emotionless, almost callous sounding even. The type of voice that the
counsellors used on him, to get him out of their way when he needed help with something as a child.

He lowers his arm slowly and allows the wood to slip through his fingers and land with a wet clunk on
the dock. Curius, how unafraid she seemed. Not afraid to kill someone and not afraid to be killed by
someone. Could such a person exist without being dangerous? Another person that seemed as unafraid as
he, himself, was?

3
Fear? It wasn't something she could even feel anymore, she supposed. The very last thing she -could-
remember feeling was rage. Rage and hysteria. At the age of 23, she is more than old enough to be on her
own. But the fear of her father held her prisoner in his home. It had never been, nor would ever be
considered 'home' by her. It was prison. A special little torture cell in the furthest corner of the pits of
Hell, to her. She'd managed to make a break for it, packed a backpack of clothes and a few snacks and ran
as hard as she could manage in any direction that felt easiest to travel. It didn't take long for her father
to find her. There were trees, trees and more trees with few roads to follow. Noone dared to wander into
the woods around Crystal Lake. While trying to chase her down and grabbing her through the driver's
side window of the car, her father had completely torn her shirt to shreds. Her pants would soon follow
in the scuffle to get him on the ground and choke him. Her backpack had fallen to the ground along the
road he'd chased her down and could probably still be recovered.. assumming she survived the night long
enough to -need- clothing.

'Share this night with me, Jason Vorhees. A man was killed tonight because he was guilty. He, too,
allowed bad things.. horrible things to happen to people he was responsible for,' she says, solemnly. For a
moment, there was nothing. Silence was the only response. She doesn't expect a verbal response from him.
She'd never heard of a time in any of the legends and stories, that Jason Vorhees had ever spoken a word.
Jason tilted his head. Join her? He'd never contemplated having someone join him after he'd killed
various guilty people around the lake. Slowly, he moved toward her, stopping a mere half a meter away.
She tilts her head back and closes her eyes, letting her legs fall back over the edge of the dock, toes
toward the water.

'Does it feel like this for you, too? Like nothing? Everytime?' She asks. 'I didn't feel anything at all. It
feels.. I don't know.. as if I've just taken someone's life with the same casual ease as pouring a cup of tea. Is
that what it feels like for you, too?' This time, she does turn to look at him. Her gaze travels upward from
his muddy boots, to his worn workpants, and finally to his raggedy shirt and wet pillowcase-covered face.
Just beyond his boots, behind him, lies the could-be weapon against her. He simply stares back at her, in a
way trying to force a telepathic type of link between the two of him, if he had the power. He felt nothing
when he killed. It wasn't a sense of accomplishment, relief, horror.. .there was simply nothing. Swinging
his machete, axes, picks.. it was all just a part of his nature by now. Like breathing.
She lies back on the wet wood of the dock and stares up at him. He stares carefully back down at her. 'I
think it must be the same for you. Do you think it means that you and I are the same?' His good eye made
a quick assessment of her new position and he took a step back. Someone like him? His mother had always
called him her 'Special Boy.' What if this woman was another mother's 'Special Girl?' Would Mother want
another special child killed? She hadn't really been guilty of anything, aside from trespassing into -his-
camp and -his- lake. But, it was to dispose of another guilty person. Someone Jason, himself, would have
killed but now didn't have to.

With that thought, he turned on his heel and picked up his makeshift weapon. She closed her eyes. So, he
wouldn't give her this night, afterall. Fine. Surely, she could enjoy it in Hell. It would probably be a lot
warmer and dryer there. He leaned over without a sound and wrapped his fingers around the middle bit
of fabric on her bra and hauled her underweight body up from the rain soaked wood. Her eyes pop open
and her legs scrabble as she tries to comply with the forced movement, her feet slipping and sliding on
the old dock. 'What? What're you-?' Before she can finish, he withdraws his hold on her bra's middle and
grabs her roughly by her upper arm. He pulled her over the rough pebbles, tree limbs, and even a bit of
concrete until the bottoms of her feet hurt so badly they went numb, through the darkness. She felt
blind. But the fear was still absent. She wondered, briefly, if she'd ever experience such an emotion, again.

((I don't imagine Jason Vorhees to be be the 'affectionate' and 'soft' type.. being away from that sort of
human contact for -so- long wuld sort of do that to a person, I'd imagine. So, I'm trying not to make him
too soft a character. Jason Vorhees is a serial killer.. and, a rather violent one. Makes war, not love.
However, because I really dislike BDSM types of relationships.. this story will not contain that.. so, when
it comes to that, between these two characters, he will gain a 'softer side.' Until then.. he hurts
people..even without realising what he's doing. He doesn't know any better. Rawr!))

4
Since Mother had chosen to remain silent, he would keep her. Keep her for later judgement to be
passed.He couldn't risk her running back to where she'd come from and warning others of his existence. It
would only create more noise and 'work' for him to take on. Until Mother passed her judgement on the
girl, she would remain with him. She didn't seem to be afraid of him grabbing her and pulling her along
after him. Surprised? Certainly. Her legs annoyingly stumbled under her and caused him to grip her arm
tighter and tighter, until crescent-shaped impressions of his fingernails began to fill with blood. She
made no motion or noise to indicate that the injury was hurting her and he wouldn't have cared if she
had anyway.

He led her to the basement of the main building of the camp. He'd converted it the best he could with the
rubbish he had to work with, into his own space. The space was too short for his own abnormally tall
stature, but perfect for someone of this girl's size to stand up correctly. Once inside, her breathing began
to pick up. She, suddenly, seemed on the verge of hyperventillating. Good, she should be frightened of him.
Everyone else was. He could do anything to her at any moment. She should be more than aware of it, in
his opinion.

And, finally, she fell limp. Whether she'd finally hyperventillated or not didn't much concern him. She -
was- still breathing which only meant on thing to Jason; she was still alive. He held her up, dragging her
toward his bed. It wasn't much of a bed to speak of; a mattress he'd drug from the cabin next door and all
of the blankets and pillows he could salvage. He dropped her gracelessly atop the disshevelled covers and
threw a thin sheet over her, not bothering to make sure that it covered her entirely, before stalking off
to find one of his thinner chains. She'd not be escaping while he wasn't available to give her his full
attention. Using a chain that had come from a door and a pair of handcuffs that he'd salvaged from the
few lawmen that had crossed his path, he made a perfect manacle to keep her restrained to this spot. It
had a window, if she needed fresh air and he would ensure that she ate once a day, at the very least.
She'd remain alive.

For now.

He locked one side of the handcuffs to her thin ankle and the other end into one of the links of the chain.
Perfect. Another set of handcuffs were used to keep the device secured around the railing beside the bed.
He gave the girl one last look and with a final shrug, left her to sleep off whatever she needed to.
Something about this girl told him that tomorrow, when she woke, it wouldn't be a quiet day. For now, he
had things that needed to be done to accommodate for his new guest. Newer food rations, for one. His
salvaged canned goods would still work well enough, but his foraged meat would have to be replaced.
People were far more trouble than they were worth.

5
She opened her eyes slowly. It seemed surreal to her that she'd be able to open them at all. But if she
were dead, who was to say that she couldn't? She stared up at an unfamiliar dark ceiling trying to make a
mental note of deciding whether or not she was still in her own body. Her fingers twitched and she felt
rough material below her fingertips. There was something cold and hard around one ankle and not the
other. Apparently, everything from her fingertips to her ankles seemed to be there still. With a great
effort, she sat up, her head throbbing in protest of any movement at all. There was a window beside her
but the outside of it showed only that it was light outside. A sheet barely covered her still nearly naked
body and parts of her underwear were still uncomfortably wet.

She was lying on a mattress that felt old and lumpy and surrounded by old, lumpy pillows mixed with
newer-looking versions. Same for the sheets surrounding her, older mixed with newer ones. She frowned
at the discovery of the makeshift manacle. That bastard. She fingered the latch on the handcuffs and
then every link of the chain. She was to be his prisoner if not his victim? What sort of sense would it
make to keep her? Unless.. unless all of the stories about Jason Vorhees weren't completely true and he
was a pervert as well as a serial killer. She shuddered at that thought. She tugged, futiley, at the chain
knowing full well that it wouldn't give, but it would make enough noisey clanking to attract his
attention in a more discreet way than her shouting.

At first, there was no response. No noise from any part of this.. well whatever it was. She gave the chain
a last jerk against the railing and she could hear slow, heavy footsteps coming finally. She hadn't taken in
much of his appearance the night before and it seemed that she was staring at a complete stranger, now.
He seemed taller, now, than she remembered. And, had he been wearing that pillowcase over his head,
last night? She couldn't remember if she'd seen his face or not. His one brown eye glared down at her as if
she'd just called him at the most inconvenient time imaginable.

'You're keeping me locked up?' She asked, raising her leg to show off the chain. He gave one small nod.
'What the hell for? Why not just kill me, Vorhees? Why keep me here?' She lowered her leg and rose to
kneel up on her knees. She'd be damned if she was going to be a quiet prisoner. He simply tilted his head to
one side and turned his back to her as if to leave. 'Don't you walk away, you prick! What the hell are you
keeping me for?! Are you some sort of pervert that gets off on watching women struggling or something?'
He still didn't answer, but only gave her a dismissive gesture with his hand as he left the room.

She scowled at his retreating figure. 'Can I, at least have my stuff? I dropped it along one of the roads,
maybe you picked it up?' He still didn't reply, and this time, didn't even acknowledge that she'd spoken to
him. 'Bastard,' she said and sat back on her heels. She unhooked her bra and laid it over the railing next to
the bed. Fine, if he wouldn't give her her things, she'd dry out what she -did- have. Her underwear
followed and she kept herself wrapped tightly, protectively, in one of the sheets. He hadn't seemed
anxious at all when he saw her, which told her that he, most likely, wasn't a pervert. But she wouldn't
drop it, completely, that easily.

She sat, poutily, against the wall and threw little pebbles or bits of wood across the room, listening to
them tick and clink as they hit.. whatever.

6
At first the endless varied tapping of things hitting other things didn't bother him. Until it lasted hours
upong hours and was accompanied by different variations of his name. Right now, it was the old 'Batman'
theme song with his name in place of the 'Batman!' exclamation. She'd sung his name to every imaginable
TV show she could think of, by now. Quite honestly, he had come to the point where he was cursing his
own name, mentally. His own machete through his one good eye seemed more merciful. He wondered,
briefly, what mother would do if he killed this girl anyway, without passing judgement on her; guilty for
being purely annoying. Every now and again she would break her routine and ask if she could have her
things, yet. All of this for one's things to be returned to them? Couldn't he just.. m ake her something else
to replace them?

Finally, he could take no more. One or both of them would be dead if this continued. He stood from his
rickety chair and grabbed his machete from the equally worn table. Night had fallen only an hour ago, he
could move freely now. It would probably do him some good to hunt and kill.. .something.. anything. He
stalked towards the room he'd confined her in looking as menacing and irritated as possible. It didn't take
much effort. She was standing on the mattress with a half folded sheet in her hands; a pile of completely
folded sheets on the end of the bed, already. As soon as she saw him, her song stopped. 'Hello, asshole!' she
called out, cheerily.

Before he could stop himself, he raised the machete above his head and brought it down quickly, striking
the very edge of the mattress and sticking in the wooden floor beneath it. She gasped and backed up flat
against the wall behind her. A-ha! That shut her up! Her blue eyes were wide with panic and she held her
breath. He yanked the blade up and continued stalking toward the door of the basement. He would have
grinned in victory if she hadn't annoyed his face into a permanent scowl for the night. 'Jerk!' she called
after him and sunk down to the mattress, holding the sheet wrapped around her and in her hand tighter.

He slammed the door down behind him, causing her to jump and gasp one last time. That should teach her
to be loud and annoyingly persistent. He would find her damn pack and give it to her, if anything only to
shut her up. He silently prayed to Mother for strength and maybe a bit of patience. Or, permission to end
the girl. 'Now, Jason, she's good for you. She's a strong girl. Not like those other, weak, whores that let my
baby drown,' the voice of his mother replied. Jason sighed. He had to agree, the girl wasn't weak, but
there -was- such a thing as -too- much fire in one person. He knew she could kill and she'd described what
it felt like to her on that rainy night. It felt like nothing. Just as it did for Jason.

'She just likes to test you, baby. That's all. You're strong, too. And, together the two of you can punish the
ones guilty of not being responsible,' she continued. Jason huffed at that. Like Hell he could cooperate
with that...that.. just the thought of the girl infuriated him! 'Now, now, Jason, you'll be a good boy and do
as your mother says,' she said in a firm warning tone. If he were a lesser man he might have whimpered
at the horror of it. Instead it only served to give him more desire to kill something. Stalking along the
road he'd seen the girl running from the night before, her father chasing her, he found her backpack
rather quickly. It looked completely stuffed, the stitches stretching to their limits. Now, dinner.

((So, I've decided that this won't be one of those WAFF types of romances.. if you can even call it such a
thing. So, if you're looking for that sort of thing.. you'll be disappointed with this story. Aaaaand! Sorry
that my chapters are super duper short. I can't help it...I have short-lasting braingasms. :( ))

7
She leaned against the wall, tired of folding, organising and refolding the many salvaged covers around
her. She needed something to distract her.. something to keep her mind off of the emptiness this new
place seemed to crowd her with, even when Vorhees was in the other room before. She frowned at the
very thought of his name. It had taken her hours to get a reaction of any kind out of him. Her thoughts
wandered to what it might actually take to break a man like Jason Vorhees. To get him to react to
anything she wanted him to. Even though she'd never heard of him speaking in any of the stories, maybe
he still could. What would it take to make him speak if it were possible? Over the next few hours, she
thought of endless reactions a person could produce and ways of making them happen. She thought of
them til her eyes finally closed and sleep claimed her.

She was jolted awake by the sound of her backpack being thrown to the ground at the edge of the
mattress. She gasped and sat up out of pure reflex, even though she knew it could only be because of one
other person than herself. He'd returned. With her backpack. She stared at it in shock and he stared at
her, expectantly. She was speechless. She'd all but given up hope that her things would be returned to her
and she'd be left to suffer in nothing but her underwear. She wondered if he'd rifled through it before
giving it to her. Or went through it just to see what was so important that she had to have and would
torture him for hours to get to, again. She slowly crawled to it and pulled it up to the mattress and
opened it. It looked the same as she'd packed it. 'Thank you,' she said, reluctantly. He said nothing, only
walked away into the other room.

Again, she was hit with the desire to make him react. She'd catagorised his irritation just before leaving
as a victory on her part. What other things could -she- make him do? What would it be like to be the one
in control of that sort of thing for once? Of course, it would all be purely instinctual and emotional on
his part, as she couldn't hurt him, chained to the bed as she was. He could certainly hurt her, but what did
it matter? She hadn't expected to be brought here and to die was something she'd expected hours.. or even
a day ago, now. Being chained to a bed with a captor that all but ignored her presence wasn't a much
better solution and certainly nothing to -live- for.

She leaned up against the rail and stared at the open door he'd gone through. The sound of bones being
broken and the smell of some sort of meat cooking wafted through to her nose. Her stomach growled in
response. How was it that he could be in another room and cause -her- body to react, but she had to work
for hours for the smallest bit of it? It didn't seem fair. She sat back against the wall and after an hour or
so, he returned, bringing whatever meat he'd been cooking on a cracked plate and water in a dirty glass.
Well, he certainly meant to keep her alive at the very least. That meant that she'd have plenty of time
to think up reactions to get out of him. He hadn't given her any utensils and she snickered at having to
eat with her hands, but she did it. He watched her, carefully, as she ate. She ate quickly, like someone
that had to fight for their right to food, previously. The chewing and swallowing a methodical procedure
to ingest the most amount of food in the least amount of time.

When she finished, she placed the glass and plate on the floor at the end of the bed and studied him
carefully as he picked it up. The way he moved suggested that he was used to stalking. Very slow and
calculated. Very aware of things around him. 'I need to pee,' she said quickly. It wasn't a lie. She really
needed to since becoming aware of her body's needs again. He looked up at her, the one uncovered eye
narrowing. Had he expected her to simply piss on the mattress she slept on? She tried not to shudder, if
that's what he did. Just simply peed wherever he was. He put the dishes on a shelf that was too dark for
her to accurately make out and she heard him open and rifle through a few drawers. he returned to her
with a small metal key and unlocked the cuff around her ankle, careful not to touch a spot of her skin as
he did so. Another bit of information logged itself away in her mind, for her assault.

8
He paced along the hallway in front of the bathroom door, waiting.. impatiently. Everything about her
irritated him still. Even her normal, human bodily functions irritated him. How many times would he
have to stop and pace while she pissed, before Mother told him what to do. As he moved from one end of
the hallway to the other, he sent silent mental prayers to Mother, begging for the merciful instruction
to kill the girl. His fingers itched with the want. Finally, he heard the telling flush of the commode.

Then, there was silence.

. . Followed by the sharp moan of another set of pipes as the shower was turned on. Was she seriously
expecting him to wait while she showered? Brazen little beast! Jason decided, then and there, that the
only thing worse than rowdy teens taking over the camp for a weekend, was an obnoxious woman with no
fear of death. Pure murderous instinct drove him to kick in the wooden door, and he was gifted with a
startled squeak from beyond the fogged shower curtain. Another victory, if only one of a long line of
small ones to come. With more force than necessary, he tore the shower curtain back, popping four of the
plastic rings clean off as he did so.

She pressed herself against the cold tile wall, a scowl etched into her face. Streaks of mixed dirt, water
and sweat trailed in quickly moving droplets from her head to her feet and down the drain. 'What the
hell is wrong with you?!' she yelped and grabbed the curtain closed again. He stood there, a shred of the
thin fabric still in his hand. The filthy water moving over skin, making it clean again had fascinated him,
had given him pause. 'I only need a few minutes, I promise!' she called out, but he didn't hear a word of it.
In his mind, the very basis of his world, he could only see the repeating image of water droplets over
skin. 'Are you just going to stand there and watch or what?' She didn't expect an answer. He'd not spoken a
word to her yet. But, he didn't budge either.
Surely, Mother should have said something about this? He'd killed women in showers before. But, it was
usually just after they'd done other things. The things Mother didn't like. The sound of the water
shutting off, the pipes quivering with the force of stopped water and a distinctly loud, dramatic sigh,
drew his attention. When she drew the curtain back, he simply stared. There were new droplets of water
on her skin, but none of them were accompanied with strands of dirt lining their trail. The new drops
seemed so much less interesting, now. The water blended into the colour of her skin and became less
prominent than before. Less different.

He unclenched his fist, letting the crap of shower curtain fall to the floor and stormed out of the cabin,
pacing on the porch. As he left the bathroom, she peeled herself away from the tile and stuck her tongue
out at his retreating form. 'Pervert,' she whispered again. Something about him felt odd, now, though.
Something was off. He appeared to be a lot less angry after pulling the curtain back on her. Definitely not
aroused by any means, to her disappointment. Something more along the lines of distracted or confused.-
Something- had caught his attention, but she didn't dare think that it had been her naked body that had
done it.

She hadn't planned for her shower to play a part in her forthcoming game. Things might have been
started without her intending to do so just yet. With a quick grin, she redressed without drying off and
found him pacing on the porch. Moodier than usual, he forced her back into the dank cellar the two of
them 'shared.'

When they returned, he didn't chain her back to the railing. Instead, he followed her in and made sure
she returned to her paddock on her own. He sat on a decrepit looking chair and started the whetstone
wheel to sharpen his machete. His awareness of her presence was as sharp as ever, but his mind replayed
that single droplet of water over and over. It was hardly the first time he'd ever seen water on skin
before. In retrospect, he'd probably seen more water on naked skin than any other man alive. It'd never
stopped Mother from speaking to him in her harsh whispers, nor had it ever given his machete pause
before. So, it must have been the dirt alongside it that made it so interesting.

(( The-Shady-Lady - Thank you for being my first review! I have a thing against 'Mary Sue' type
characters. I really dig fiery, unafraid, and still intelligent characters. I'm a sucker for them, because I
see myself the same way, with most things.. because of the hard past I've had. It's easier to like a
character you more relate to.. and not to put down other fanfics.. but it seemed like others favoured the
girly 'oh no, there's a murderer out there, whatever will I do?' types of girls. I haven't been a fan of
Jason for very long..but, he doesn't strike me as the type of character that would base a decision on a
female, based solely on looks. In my mind, she would have to outsmart him to get his attention.))

9
She sat, legs folded, against the railing. The cold unforgiving stones of the wall seemed to sparkle in the
dim combination of electric bulbs and candles. The switch in Voorhees's mood seemed to change even the
appearance of the room. It was now a game board and the pieces were lining up. The sparkling light on the
wall seemed to mimic the game board in her head. She could envision the moves she would make. The ones
she would make tonight, tomorrow, the next day, assuming she was still alive by then.
Inside, she'd felt a lot of things. Pain, betrayal, disgust, anger, pity, on a rare occasion, happiness. Jason
Voorhees might be the stuff of legends and ghost stories, but he was still a man. Under the cloth covering
his face, there was still skin and bone. He could still bleed. Surely, if she were locked up and still feeling
so much, this man with his pseudo-freedom could still feel. No man was a statue. The thoughts propelled
her into a more concrete determination to play the game being constructed in her head. She'd managed
to advance a spot, with inciting anger and frustration, before. He'd physically unleashed it, but hadn't
killed her.

Officially, the game was on.

Carefully, she stood up and peeled the soaked shirt off of her torso. As she did, the chair on the other
side creaked with movement, but the sound of grinding metal continued. He was readying to strike if she
attempted to leave, but kept his head down. She chanced a glance at him over her shoulder and was
slightly put off by his inattentiveness. 'Jason,' she said, keeping her back to him. She could feel his eyes on
her now and the grind of metal ceased slowly. 'Why do you never talk? I would imagine that it might be
more effective to keep this place to yourself if you said something, you know.' As she talked, she slowly,
casually removed the clinging bottoms, leaving her completely naked, back to him. Of course, he didn't
answer, but she imagined hiseyes narrowing.

'I know you must have been able to speak when you were a kid, here.' With that, she turned around and
made a small show of hanging the wet clothes over the railing to dry. Jason tilted his head to the side,
pondering the question before him. 'Surely, you called for help, when you drowned didn't you? Help
mommy! Save me! Something like that?' He flinched at the softly imitated pleas. Ah, so it was a touchy
subject then. Definitely not conducive to tonight's move. Biting her bottom lip, she took a step closer to
him. He didn't even blink.

'Do you like girls, Jason? When you came here, did you have a crush on any of them? Too shy to speak to
any of them, maybe? Wouldn't surprise me, as silent as you are.' She took another brave step, and then
another, slowly closing in on him. Only his eyes moved, following her face coming closer to his own and
nothing else. He could hear her heartbeat racing and imagine the blood making a rushing sound in her
ears, being so close to him. 'You were still young then, weren't you? That's what the stories about you
claim. Imagine, a full grown man, never known the touch of a woman.' She reached out a shaky hand and
barely traced a line of the pillow case wrapped around his head. A second crawled by, then two, and he
flinched backward, the chair screeching in protest as he did so. She squelched the urge to snicker, but
didn't move away from him.

'Well, with that sort of reaction, I can't believe that I'm too far off.' She took a step closer. Fear? Was
this reaction fear? She held out her hand, palm up, inviting. 'Why don't you touch me, then? Go on, I don't
bite. I'm not the one with the reputation for death.' He glanced down at her hand and his fingers
tightened around the handle of the machete, forgotten in his hand. His eyes remained cold and distant,
but he raised his calloused hand. He seemed to be considering the offer.

Before she could mentally whoop in victory, that hand was around her neck, pinning her against the hard
stone wall. His fingers dug into her skin, the nails drawing up little droplets of blood. She gasped and
struggled against the wall, the stones abrading her back and the backs of her legs. After the initial
surprise, her struggling ceased. He guided her, roughly, by the neck back to her makeshift bed and shoved
her down onto it. She didn't struggle against the movement and remained on the bed after he removed
his hand from her neck. He locked the chain around her ankle once again and extinguished all of the light
in the room, retreating into the adjoining room.
She lay on her back, her toes digging into the sheets under her in reflexive anxiety.

10
For some reason, she felt victory.. and disappointment at the same time. Not the reaction she had been
working for, but definitely a reaction all the same. But, what exactly had it been, that drove him to that
particular choice of reaction? Any other man would have allowed it to continue into whatever it
would've become. Any man with baser sexual instincts anyway. Maybe Voorhees didn't have any sexual
instincts? That wouldn't be possible.. would it? Suddenly, the pieces on her imaginary game board moved
themselves around into another attack formation. A different game was afoot. A different goal to be
had. She had nothing to lose. Her innocence had been stolen from her, years ago. She'd never been in love.
Never even had the chance to know what it was. Her father had stolen all of that from her along with
the hope for anything in the future. She was broken. Broken and vengeful. Like Jason, himself was. Lives
ripped away before they'd even had the chance to discover what they could have been. Before either of
them had had the chance to even know they could've been anything.

As the anxiety melted away, it gave way to something more primal. The air around her, in the dark,
seemed a lot colder than it had been only moments ago. The endorphins had kicked in and made her feel
light headed and extra sensitive all at the same time.The roughness of the old sheets beneath her and the
sound of her own breathing.. all of it seemed to culminate in the pit of her belly. She rested a still lightly
trembling hand on her stomach. What, exactly, would she have done if he had succumbed to what she was
shooting for? She wasn't even sure. He was probably the biggest man she'd ever come across. He could
crush her under his mere weight, of that she had no doubt. He wasn't fat by any means, a pure wall of
primal muscle. But the thought of all of that hardness and muscle pressed against her own smaller frame,
sent a shiver down her spine, adding to the tightness in her lower belly.

In the next room, Jason flung his machete at the wood-paneled wall. It struck with enough force to keep
it lodged in the wood. What was the girl playing at? He was used to seeing the same actions and tones in
words from the ones he'd killed before. When they were playing in the woods, thinking there wasn't
anyone to see them. The ones that Mother was determined to have him kill. The bad ones. But, this girl
wasn't with someone else. She was with him. Her tone had changed for him and she had reached out to
touch him. He didn't know what to make of it. Maybe Mother didn't know what to make of it either, the
reason for her silence. If the touch was truly bad, Mother would have made her demands upon him. So,
the touch wasn't a bad thing? Or, was it and Mother wasn't sure what to make of it? What if.. what if
Mother wanted this for him? What if this girl was Mother's gift to him? But, what use was a girl? She
didn't look strong. She looked fierce a few times, when angered. But what skills could she possibly have,
coming from somewhere other than here? Hunting? Helping to kill the bad people? She had killed, before.
Cleaning wasn't exactly something Jason had ever put much stock in, so that would be a useless
contribution on her part.

What would Mother say if he were to accidentally shove his machete or some other sharp object directly
into the girl's throat? As the thought crossed his mind, he reached for the weapon and pulled it, roughly,
free from the wood. As he did so, a sound from the next room caught his attention. A noise between a
whimper and a moan. Maybe the girl had found a way to kill herself? Mother couldn't blame him for that,
could she? He leaned the machete against the wall, to keep himself from using it on her.
Without a sound, he leaned against the door frame and peered in to the darkened room. Another moan
greeted him from the makeshift bed. With his one good eye, he could make out the silhouette of the girl
in the darkness. Her knees were bent and spread apart. The tiny bit of light allowed in through her small
window, reflected off the tops of her thigh and her forearms, which seemed to reach toward the apex of
her legs. Her head was tilted back and her body squirmed amongst the old sheets.He narrowed his eye.
The movements became familiar, as did the sounds. However, there was no boy with her. She was alone,
aside from him watching her from the doorway. It was the one thing unfamiliar about it. Another
whimpering moan escaped her lips and he pressed himself against the hard wood even more. The noise was
more enchanting to him than with the usual accompaniment of a boy, without the voice of Mother in his
head and without the girl's fearless attitude. Enchanted him in the way the contrasting water drops on
her skin had been, just a mere hour or so earlier.

He watched and listened intently, paying special attention to the bits of light playing over her skin as
she moved. A hitch in her breath caused him to press even closer to the door frame, actually feeling the
pressure of it, now. Feeling the pressure of the thin line of wood down his chest and between his legs,
causing a friction that he suddenly needed. Causing a friction he'd never needed before. Ever. He didn't
move, except to press himself harder against the wood, aligning it just right to the spot requiring
attention, between his legs. There was a distant memory of the same sort of reaction in the days before
he'd drowned. It was random, showing up in the morning as he woke up or at night, just before he'd fall
asleep. He wasn't quite sure what to do with it then, either. Right now, though, the only thing that felt
right was the friction and pressure against his hard cock, not that he understood it any better now.

Her breathing became more laboured and her squirming all the more enticing. He had the urge to bite
those legs til they bled, til they were marked by him and him alone. Those legs with their strange
contrasting light called to him, but he didn't obey it. He remained where he was. Suddenly, her back
arched and the only sound he could make out was a whispered 'oh my God!' before his own body began to
throb and quiver with the need to release. He pressed himself against the wood one last time and he
finally came. Not one sound escaped him as the hot, sticky fluid spewed from him, and eventually made it
down to his thigh. The feeling was exquisite. Almost as exquisite as the look of terror in a victim's eyes,
or the feeling of the machete slicing through flesh and bone.

He silently gulped down a breath, before lifting himself, silently, from the door frame and caught his
breath. Whatever just happened, he wanted it, again.

11
For nearly a week, Jason kept his distance from her. He couldn't be found within a ten foot distance of
her, if it wasn't necessary. At first, it didn't bother her, thinking it might be a good thing after that
shameful display. But, rounding the fourth day of the nonsense, it grated on her nerves. Despite the
distance during the 'normal' daily life, there was one thing he -had- moved closer. He'd moved his own
bedding into the same room he kept her in. He had removed the chain a few days in, but kept himself clear
across the room, maintaining that distance. At night, she could almost feel his eyes burning into her
flesh.. staring at her.. daring her to make a move. In the morning, he was usually gone before she woke,
replacing the chain everytime he left. He allowed her a brief shower every other day and to use the
bathroom everytime she nagged him into insanity about having to go. He kept her fed at least once a day.
Twice, if he'd stormed out in frustration and with a dire need to kill something.

She sat with her back against the wall in the dark. The moonlight was nonexistent through the rain
clouds. There wasn't even lightning or a stray candle still lit. Her eyes narrowed in the direction she
knew he was lying in. Probably huddled as far against the wall as he possibly could be. It was stupid, to
her, for him to move his bed into the same room when he so obviously despised her mere presence. He did
everything in his wordless power to let her know it, too. His breathing was slow, deep and even.. b ut, he
was still awake. She could sense it in the air.. in the stare that continued to burn her.

'So, are you just going to hate me forever now, or what?' she said to the blank, breathing darkness. She
heard a louder, less controlled release of breath. 'If you hate me so much, why do you keep me alive, hm?
I've definitely earned it by now, haven't I?' There was a slight shuffle.

For a moment, she stayed silent, waiting for any other response to come.

'Maybe, you don't hate me as much as you'd like me to believe. That must be it. Maybe, you actually like
me quite a bit,' she said moving as silently as possible to stand up. 'I think you, Mr. Voorhees, might've
actually liked what happened a week ago, hm?' A rush of bravery.. or stupidity came over her. She could
all but feel it make it's way down her spine, one vertebrae at a time. She took the few long strides across
the room until her toes found the very edge of his paddock. As she'd moved, he did. He'd backed himself
against the nearest wall, as if she'd come to him, bearing some disease. She could hear the quick shuffling
and the loud 'thump!' as he hit the wall and froze. A smirk graced her lips. Not so brave without the blade
then, huh?

She sank to her knees on the very edge of the bedding. 'I think you did,' she whispered. She reached a hand
out, blindly, in front of her and felt around for he his face. She heard a sharp intake of breath and heard
the sharp movement of him turning his deformed, uncovered face away from her questing hand. She
leaned forward slightly, until the tips of her fingers pressed into a fleshy cheek. His breathing stopped.
Her breathing, on the other hand, had sped up in anticipation. None of this had been pre-planned and
there was a million and one ways that it could go wrong without such planning.

Using her arm as the measurement of distance, she moved closer. Her thigh came into contact with the
fabric of his pants and she could feel the muscular leg beneath tense up, reflexively. He was cornered. She
had him. That excitement she'd felt a week ago was back. Reckless abandonment tinged with singing
nerves.

Her fingertips glided over his cheek. She'd never seen him without his face covered and in the back of her
mind, was relieved that he at least removed it to sleep. The skin beneath her fingertips felt grimy.
Almost like a sheen of old sweat. Other than that, it felt normal. 'So, which is it, Jason Voorhees? Love
me? Hate me?' she asked, quietly. She leaned forward, closer to his face. He exhaled, the sound magnified
in the surrounding silence. Her fingertips traveled down that grimy cheek, to his thick, muscular neck.
His pulse was erratic beneath his skin and his muscles incredibly tense.. he was incredibly uncomfortable.
His fingers dug into his own old sheets, his jagged, dirty nails tearing small holes in them, as she lifted
one bare leg over his. 'Love to hate me?' she asked, moving so close to his face now, that she could feel the
heat from his breath on her own. 'Hate to love me, Jason?' Playing with fire, now. He moved downward, to
escape, pressing his groin against her thigh.

She quickly jerked her head up, pressing her lips hard on his own. Still, he made no sound aside from the
harsh tear of a sheet below the both of them.
His lips were deformed below her own dry, chapped ones. It was the furthest thing from a storybook kiss
anyone could get. He remained unresponsive, even as she applied more force, probably just enough to
bruise both sets of lips. Even in it's perfect imperfection, it had the desired effect on Jason's body. The
foreign feeling of blood rushing to his groin returned and he instinctively pressed himself harder against
her thigh. She responded by pressing her thigh harder against him and dropping her hand to the center of
his chest. 'That's it, Jason. Take what you need,' she whispered, rough against his twisted lips. As she said
it, her other hand searched out one of his own and pried it from the sheet it clung to. She placed his
balled fist on her hip and he reflexively opened his hand to grip her tight. The force of his grip would
leave bruises on her by morning if he didn't kill her for this by then.

He gave an experimental thrust against her thigh, and she hummed encouragement. For a moment, he
feared that if Mother did choose this particular time to speak, he wouldn't be able to hear over the sound
of the ringing in his ears. But, the need for more pressure and friction overruled everything else. He
roughly shoved her down onto her back. Pure animal instinct to take, was in play. Her legs remained half
folded under her, as he held her down and climbed over her, positioning his fully erect cock over her
thigh. He made an experimental thrust, once again and quickly picked up a strange rhythm that only
seemed to make sense to him. The fingernails of one of his hands dug crescent shaped marks into her
shoulder, while his other hand dug a twin set into her hip. She hissed at the stinging pain, but met every
thrust she could manage to. 'That's right, take what you need,' she moaned up to him and closed her eyes.
His hardness against her was alluring and sexy, despite the filth surrounding them and clinging to him.
The fabric of his pants rubbed her thigh raw, drawing blood in some places, but neither cared. After only
a few moments of his ill-patterned and inexperienced thrusting, he stiffened and began a pattern of short
thrusts until he could barely catch his breath. He, once again, came in his pants.. the feeling of it, no
longer a welcome one. Something seemed to be missing from it, this time and he had an urge to remove all
of his clothing and be in the lake. The feeling of his come being pressed against his thigh was an
annoyance.

On shaky legs, he stood up and pulled her by her arm back to her own bed. He shoved her into it and left
the cellar, locking the door behind himself. She watched him in a mixture of disappointment and
accomplishment as he left. 'Ha. I have you now, bastard,' she whispered to herself before settling into her
own sheets.

A/N: Sorry it took me a bit to get this one up. I accidentally sliced open the tip of my index finger, at
work. Ya, I'm a winner like that. But, it makes typing a bitch. Also! I was pleasantly surprised by reviews!
:)

Fire Phoenix - Thank you, muchly.. and..um.. here, you go? LOL

LadyVoorhees - It's good to know that I'm not the only one with this sort of idea, actually. At first, I
was a bit shy to even try to type it out..cause..well..it's not a conventional romance, by any means. And,
it's not a conventional category for romance. ^^;I'm a rebel, with no Beta...spell check is good enough for
me.

On a side note, if anyone cares:

MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/nettarded
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/a_voorhees
There I am on a daily basis. I'm out of here like a fart in the wind! Til next chapter, lovies!

12
What was happening here? The girl had managed to make him the most incensed being on Earth and turn
around to make him feel . .well, he didn't know what he felt. It felt good, yes. But, better than that. Better
than the feeling of accomplishment he got when he killed for Mother. Better than 'good' and that
combined, even. Did they even have a name for it? For that sort of feeling? He walked toward the lake,
stopping only when the water's edge touched the very tips of his boots. He stared out over the water, the
moon's light barely reflected on it. The constant cloud cover of New Jersey made the moon almost a
rarity, even in the summer. It made his job of patrolling the success that it was, no doubt.

He removed his boots, worn and holey socks, pants and shirt. His movements were methodical. The
movements of one who didn't have the opportunity to see new clothes very often and was trained to care
for the current set with a slightly higher priority than normal. He waded into the water only til it came
to his knees. Coming here had always been his 'safe place.' The lake, in a way, was his home. Almost a
mother, in it's own right, having created him as he was today. He didn't care much to go any deeper into
the water than he was now, unless there was imminent danger. It wasn't that he feared the water. The
water was simply an uncomfortable place to be once it reached a certain level of depth.

Crouching down, he cupped some of the water and splashed it over one leg. Then the other, cleaning off
the run of come on his thighs. He splashed the water on his groin, next. The feeling of the cold water
was...less than comfortable, to be sure. He ran one of his hands over his now flaccid and satisfied cock, and
hissed in a breath at the odd sort of pain it caused, touching the over-sensitive tip. He continued to
splash water over the rest of his body, cleaning the weeks of grime that had accumulated since his last
bath. As he splashed water onto his face, he caught sight of his own reflection in the water. His deformed
face didn't really bother him as much as it had when he was younger. Now, it was simply another weapon
in his armory, to use against trespassers. But, even now, his face seemed different. The girl had put her
lips to his own. His face hadn't frightened her in the dark and pressed to her own. It wasn't a weapon
against her. His good eye narrowed as it caught sight of a dark, thin stream of blood making it's way from
his lip toward his chin.

He swiped at it with a watery hand. 'She'll make you stronger, Jason.' Mother's voice startled him. It'd
been so long since she'd voiced her opinion on anything. 'She'll give you more reason to protect home.' He
took another look at his reflection in the water, before giving his face a final splash and wading out of
the water and back to his clothes.

Inside the cellar, the girl was asleep. Or, at least, pretending to be asleep. He gave a brief pause to look
over her, in the fetal position, tangled in the old sheets and back to his own pallet. How any person
sleeping in a fetal position could convince Mother they would make him stronger, was beyond him.

The next night the moon actually broke through the clouds every few minutes. Jason had kept himself
busy outside of the cellar, stockpiling whatever food he could salvage and rummaging the cabins for
anything that seemed useful for a small place that now housed two people. As he passed the shower
curtain he'd torn before, he thought of bringing it back and setting up a boundary between the two
sleeping areas. But, he didn't like the idea of not being able to see her precisely when he wanted to.
Come to think of it, as he laid on his side, he didn't like that she was across the room anymore. She was
still awake, he could tell by her breathing. She'd been quiet since he'd come in. In the candle light, the
bruises in the shape of his hands on her hips and shoulder were a dark red-purple contrast to her pale
skin. His eyes had been drawn to them just as they'd been drawn to the water droplets, before. Would he
still be able to see them in the moonlight? Without thinking too much about it, he got up and stalked
toward her bed. He was careful to keep his face out of the light from the floor-level window, as he leaned
down and grabbed her arm and yank her up to her feet. 'Ow, hey, what the hell?!' she yelped, as he all but
dragged her toward his own bed. He pushed her down onto the sheets and laid down next to her, against
the wall. There. That seemed better.

She huffed once and he prepared himself for the irritating onslaught of words. 'You want me to sleep
over here now, or what?' Not quite what he expected. Her voice was soft and confused. He didn't answer
her. Didn't even bat an eyelash. 'Hm, maybe you want something else?' The lilt in her voice gave away her
meaning clearly. Yes, he did want that, too. But he knew, now, that she would give him what he wanted.

He searched the darkness for the bruises he knew to be present, but couldn't see them. The knowledge of
their existence was enough for now. 'How about something different, then?' She smoothed her fingers
down one of his arms, and over the waist of his pants. His fingers twitched in reflex but he didn't push her
away. Already, his blood was rushing to his cock, readying for whatever was coming. She shoved him,
roughly onto his back and worked his pants over his hips and down to half way along his thighs. Just
enough to expose what she was after. His cock stood tall, proud and slightly curved with the unbearable
hardness. She wrapped her fingers around it and gave it a gentle squeeze. His hips twitched but he
remained still. She leaned down, keeping her eyes trained on where she estimated his face to be by the
sound of his breathing, and ran the flat of her tongue along the underside of him. Root to tip. He caught
his breath when she pulled away and he reached out, blindly, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling
her down again. She obeyed, willingly, and took the head into her mouth, flicking the tip of her tongue
along the hole at the top and along the ridged crown of it.

He sucked in a very audible breath that time. The stimulation was almost unbearable to his brain, but his
body arched upward, forcing himself more into her mouth. Unprepared, she backed away when the head of
his cock touched the back of her throat and she gagged. 'Hey!' she yelped and pressed his hips back down to
the sheets and holding them there. Most likely, causing bruises that would nearly mirror her own on her
hips, from him. 'Settle it down, Voorhees, or I'll stop, you hear me?' she demanded. Of course, he didn't
respond. But he relaxed himself back into his sheets and waited impatiently, breathing heavily.Reflexive
tears ran down her cheeks as she returned to her previous task. She started the torture over, from the
very beginning, taking him in slowly and working her way to taking him deeper. Eventually she set a
steady, slow rhythm, not wanting him to come just yet. Just feel. Just feel what was to be had. She kept
the flat of her tongue pressed against the underside, and paid special attention to the sensitive
underside of the head, as she moved up.

Jason couldn't maintain control over the movement of his body for long. His hips rose and fell to match
her rhythm. His breathing was erratic, completely uncontrolled, almost sounding as if he were being
drowned again. It would catch, speed up, slow down. The sound of it was hypnotic and sent shivers to the
right places in her. With one hand, she worked her panties off and lifted herself into a position where she
could continue to suck him and pleasure herself while she did so.

She reached a hand between her legs, stroking the once shaven hairs that were now growing out to a
normal length. She was wet already, that wasn't a surprise to her. However, the sensitivity of her clit -
was- a surprise. She rubbed her index finger over it, circling it a few times and she pulled her mouth off
of him to moan. She leaned down and took him into her mouth with a new fervor.

Oh. She was making those noises, again. The noises he'd first heard and watched her. The noises had a more
direct effect on him this time. As she moaned around his cock, it sent small vibrations. The extra
stimulation felt so good it was nearly painful. He wanted to crawl out of his skin to get away, and crawl
into her mouth to stay forever. He released her hair and gripped the sheets below him, tearing them
even more with the force of it. Just when he thought he couldn't possibly take anymore.. she pulled her
mouth away from him. He laid there, thinking she couldn't possibly be so cruel. He wasn't even sure that -
he- was that cruel. It would be a completely new and unexplored level of cruelty, to him. But, no, she was
moving. Crawling over him and covering what she could of his body, with her own.

She placed herself directly over his hips, over his cock. She didn't bother to remove the tank top she
wore, or try to remove anymore of his own clothes. She sat up straight and moved her hips back and
forth, sliding her wetness along the length of his cock. She rocked in a way that allowed her to stimulate
her clit with the head and she gasped. God, it felt so good. Jason wasn't huge or small. He was a big man,
and had a proportionate cock to his size. A perfect one to slide along. Perfect and as hard as steel against
her hot, wet, softness. 'Jason,' she half moaned and half whispered. He tried to watch her, tried to see her,
but the moonlight was gone. That wet heat felt so intensely delicious. He would kill for this feeling. But,
she wasn't done with him, not just yet.

After a few long, slow strokes, she held him at the base and lifted herself over him. Without any
stretching it would have to be slow, but she didn't care. She wanted, needed him inside of her. She
lowered herself just enough to press the head in, and Jason was lost in sensation. His most sensitive
nerves were being bombarded by addictive wet heat. He gripped her hips and thrust himself up, in a sharp
motion. Oh. Oh, he'd never felt something so intense. It was tight, God, so tight. Tight and hot..and wet. She
yelped in pain, in response. 'Voorhees, dammit!' He couldn't even hear it. He didn't care, he had to move.
She wriggled on top of him, trying to force herself to adjust to the rough intrusion. 'Alright, you little
bastard, just for that, you get to work, too,' she whispered and settled herself down on him. She worked
one of his hands loose, from her hip and forced him to settle it further inside of her leg. She placed his
thumb on her clit, and let him feel the little nub. 'You keep your finger there. It'll feel better for you, I
promise.' He could barely comprehend her words in his own haze. Keep his finger on that, feels better.
Okay.

She lifted herself up and came back down slowly. Ah, yes. That was nice. But he wanted something harder.
He arched up, unable to communicate what he wanted in any other way. She obliged him with rising up
and coming back down on him with more force. The first few thrusts were simply experimental. But soon,
she started up a rhythm the both of them could manage. His thumb slid over her clit and she voiced her
own pleasure. She moaned, arched and whispered his name, while all he could manage was a few select
soft grunts. More like the sound of air being forced out of his lungs. It only took a minute or two of her
riding him for him to grip her hips with both hands and hold her still while thrust himself as deep as he
could manage. The feeling of coming in that heat was.. indescribable. Instinctively, he pulled her down. He
clung to her body as if it were a lifeline, crushing her to himself, til his breath returned to him.

His arms fell, limply, to the bed and he gave one last sigh. 'Oh no, you aren't getting off that easy.. ' she
said and brought his hand back up to her body. She lifted herself, allowing him to slip out of her. She
placed his hand on her upper thigh, positioning his finger over her clit once again. She brought up his
other hand and singled out two of his fingers; the ring and middle fingers. She lifted herself and
carefully placed his fingers where his cock had been. At this point, he didn't particularly care where she
put his fingers, or if she even wanted to chop them off. He was tired. For the first time he could ever
remember, he was well and truly spent. She slid his fingers into her, slowly. A small gasp passed her lips
as she set out to continue the thrusting from before, on his fingers. He moved them, lazily, in and out of
her. 'Rub. Rub that spot, Jason, please,' she whimpered. He gave the small nub a few rough, experimental
rubs, but that's all it took. He felt her inner muscles contract around his fingers and her moans became
louder. Almost screams, and his interest was captured again, and he would give anything for the ability
to see in the dark clearly. He kept rubbing, until she squeaked and backed away from him and his fingers.
'God, Jason.. ' she said, breathing hard and resting her head on his half clothed thigh. He let her rest a
moment, before awkwardly pulling his pants back on, ignoring the stickiness of both of them lingering. She
didn't bother to put her own panties back on. She curled up beside his legs and her breathing leveled itself
out, for sleep. He couldn't bring himself to care, too relaxed and tired to drag her back to her own bed or
to clean himself off in the lake, again.

A/N:

Aaaaaw, there ya go. Some good not-so-clean action for you. Sorry, LadyVoorhees, It took me so long to
finish it. XD

13
A/N: Sorry, kiddies, no sexy time in this chapter. It's mostly a transitional tool, really. But, a bit of
violence, for you? Yes? Okay!

For the next few days, he contemplated what had happened that night. He mentally worked out the
mechanics and was left puzzled on how to communicate to the girl that he was interested in repeating
the experience. Would she shove him away if he tried dragging her to his bed again? She didn't seem too
thrilled about it that night, at first. He'd seen how the boys had seduced the girls over the years of
summer trespassing here. But, he knew nothing of alcohol or weed or enticement of any other kind. He
stared across the room at her. She was lying back against the wall, long legs crossed, reading a book he'd
seen her read a few times before. His gaze traveled up her leg, to the fading bruises on her hip. They were
still a dark purple, with a fading yellowish tint around them. -His- marks on her. And, he liked them
there. If only they were a bit more permanent. From his old chair by the sharpening wheel, he could tell
she was humming, but couldn't hear it. Thank whatever Gods there were. He hated her humming. But not
half as much as he hated her outright singing.. especially, of his name.

His staring was disrupted by the tinkling of a bell. His head snapped up in reflex to the sound. The girl
didn't even seem to notice. A few seconds later, a closer bell clinked. This time, she did hear it and ceased
her humming in curiosity. He stood up quickly and tightened his hold on his machete. Another bell, this
time just above her bed, rang. 'What's that fo-' she was cut off by the sound of two people running on the
ground overhead. Ah, so that's how he knew when someone was there. She reacted by standing up and
looking at Jason for a clue of what to do next. Should she hide? Help? Definitely not scream. She glanced
down at herself. She was only clothed in a bra, tattered and dirty tank top and a pair of panties. She was
trying to space her available clothing out for as long as possible, only wearing what she had to for as
long as it would still hang on her body. She looked around for her bag, but there wasn't time to grab a
pair of bottoms. Jason was already stomping toward the door. He wasn't going to leave her alone with
people out there, was he? What if they came into the cellar?
She scrambled to keep up with him and follow him out of the cellar.

Jason had lost the fear of her escaping at some point before. Sometimes, he wished she would make an
attempt at it just so he could kill her and not disappoint Mother. Well, not recently, as much. But, before,
it would have been so perfect. He allowed her to follow him out, thinking she was going to split off and
hide somewhere in the woods. But, she tailed him as he moved through the woods, matching his silence
with her own. The girl -had- killed with her bare hands, before. Perhaps, she thought she could accomplish
the task again. Maybe she could.

She tailed him until they reached one of the cabins on the furthest end of the camp. She'd never been as
far from the cellar, since she'd been there. There was banging around and laughter coming from inside the
cabin. It was smaller than the others on the property, possibly a head counselor's cabin. The laughter
occasionally gave way to shouts of the names 'Phillip' and 'Josh,' as the pair discovered something new.
Jason made no effort to remain silent or hidden as he simply barreled through the front door, surprising
both occupants. One was a tall, rail-thin boy, with cropped dark hair and dark eyes. He wasn't, by any
means, handsome or significant in any physically attractive way. His partner was, also, rail-thin but
shorter and with obviously dyed, sandy blonde hair and dark eyes. Neither of them looked more than 20
years old, but one of that mattered. They were on Jason's land. Without Jason's permission.

'Kill them, Jason. Kill them. They're trying to take things that are your's. That's stealing! Stealing is bad,
Jason!' Mother's voice rang in his ears, in his mind until it saturated every nerve ending in his body. The
girl followed him into the cabin, stumbling over the splintered wood.

'The hell?!' the tall one shouted. The shorter one yelped and pressed himself against the wall across the
room, directly opposite of Jason. The taller one glanced between Jason's sack-covered face and the girl
climbing in behind him. 'Are-are you guys like some fucked up cannibal, wood people or something?' the
shorter one asked, trembling.

The girl couldn't help but smile at that. 'No, we're far worse than that,' she said, softly. Taking her words
as a cue, Jason brought his machete down like lightning, through the shorter one's shoulder and dragged
it downward through his chest. The cutting of bone made a sickening crack that was accentuated by the
squelching noise of blood being forced through the enormous wound. He dropped to the floor with a heavy
thump. The entire thing seemed to move in slow motion, to her. And, she felt.. .nothing. Absolutely
nothing. She wasn't horrified or excited. The feeling she could even name was simple disinterest. As if it
were an everyday sight and had grown boring to her. Just another dead person, again, today, Jason? Shall
I make you some coffee? Yeah, something like that. She stared at the widened eyes of the dead boy for a
moment, but was brought back to the situation at the sound of a yelp, followed by a 'holy shit!'

She looked up, to find the taller boy being pinned to the wall, by Jason holding his shirt. The boy wriggled
himself out of the shirt and toward temporary freedom. Instinctively, she grabbed a shard of the wood
and swung out, at the boy, striking him in the back of his thigh. He fell to the floor, Jason lumbering
menacingly toward him. The boy crawled a bit, picking up a piece of wood himself, before scrambling to his
legs to make a run for the door. She jumped in front of the door to block him and Jason jumped in front of
her, machete drawn.

The girl was -his-. If anyone got the pleasure of hurting, maiming, or killing her, it would be him and no
other. Cornered, the boy backed up, holding his own strip of wood threateningly. 'Let me go and take your
bitch with you,' he demanded, as if he had the upper hand in the fight. Jason simply stared at him, holding
his own weapon tightly, daring him to make a move. The boy did move, though. He swung the wood out,
throwing it awkwardly at the back of Jason's knee, causing him to buckle slightly with the force of it. In
the fraction of a second that Jason had moved, the boy made a bold lunge for the door, tackling the girl
backward as he did so. She landed on her back, knocking the wind out of her, but she wrapped her arms and
legs around him, holding him there, while he struggled desperately. Jason was there within seconds. He
pulled the boy up by his hair and gave a clean swipe through the boy's neck. Blood splattered onto her, but
the body tilted off to the side, away from her.

She scrambled backwards, away from it and looked up at Jason, out of breath. There was nothing but
silence, now. She wondered what he was thinking. Was this just an everyday thing for him and he didn't
care, like she had when seeing that first boy go down? Her gaze traveled down to his hand, still holding
the boy's head by his hair, a profuse amount of blood still draining from it. Now that she'd thought about
it, she hadn't seen any dead bodies when they walked the camp. Or, the woods. In the stories, Jason had
killed plenty more than just two people, here. But, what did he do with the bodies? Did he throw them in
the lake? The very lake they used to give themselves a quick rinse off? She shuddered at the thought.

'So, what do you do now? Where do you put the b-bodies?' she asked, still regaining her breath. He tilted
his head, as if contemplating whether he should tell her or not. He sheathed his machete and without
giving her any affirmative or negative reply, he turned and lifted the decapitated body over his
shoulder. He went inside the cabin and returned with the body of the other boy, dragging it by his shirt,
along the ground, over the front steps and through the dirt passing her. She scrambled up to follow him.
He stopped at a cabin closer to the shore of the lake. So, he did throw them in?

Outside of the tiny cabin, maybe it was just an office of some sort, there were racks where canoes were
hanging upside down. And one canoe had been placed on the ground in the same position. Jason dropped
the bodies and lifted the canoe on the ground, moving it off to the side. Under it was a deep, narrow pit.
As soon as it had been revealed, the smell of rotting bodies hit her. The smell was so powerful, she wasn't
so sure that it actually HADN'T physically hit her. Bile rose in her throat and she turned her head away
to vomit on the ground. Jason didn't pay any mind to it and proceeded to dump both bodies and
decapitated head into the pit. He felt around the inside of one of the hanging canoes for a box of old
matches that he kept for this very thing. He lit one and threw it in, letting the bodies catch fire and
burn.

She continued to spit on the ground until the taste of vomit was completely gone. He stood up and
walked, slowly, into the small cabin and she followed, not wanting to be left behind with that smell.
Inside the cabin didn't smell too much better, in her opinion. It wreaked of rotted wood and mildew.
Oddly, though, there was a hit of old candle wax, coming from the only other room in the place other
than the one they were standing in and a small bathroom. He walked toward the room and she followed
closely behind him. The room was empty, aside from a table sitting below a large hole in the far side wall.
The table was covered in old wax and mostly burned down candles.

But, inside the hole in the wall, was a wooden beam, made into a makeshift shelf to support what looked
like a rat's nest of hair. Jason stepped closer tot he table and knelt before it, keeping his eyes focused on
whatever the hairy mess was. She stepped closer to him, coming to the conclusion that this was a shrine
of importance to him. As she did so, the light seemed to shift and reveal the head of a woman. The flesh
sunk in around the bones with decay, and the hair forming a disastrous mane around it. She wrinkled her
nose and took a step back.
'Voorhees.. ' she said, with a sniff. 'That's completely fucking disgusting, I hope you know that.' She turned
on her bare heel and left the room. 'I'm going to take a shower, you should, too,' she called back as she left
the cabin, entirely. He took an experimental sniff of the air, and decided that she was right. He could use
a few splashes of water.

14
A/N: A little something for the lack of action in the last chapter.

Jason stared up at what remained of Mother. She thought Mother was disgusting? Didn't she realise that
Mother was still here? Still talked to him? Even kept the girl alive? 'She doesn't understand this, Jason.
She can't. It isn't for her to understand. This is only for you and mommy,' Mother said, softly. Yes,
something for only the two of them. 'She can help you, Jason. Help you take care of Mother and keep
people away. She's proven that to you, hasn't she? You don't have to do it alone, anymore. Help her, Jason.
Teach her how to protect this place.'

Jason looked down. He didn't know the first thing about teaching anyone anything. He taught himself the
very basics of survival, through a process of trial and error. But, there was something about his body, he
knew, that kept him alive. Something that normal people didn't have. Something that made him even more
'special' than anyone else. Mother didn't have it, obviously. He hadn't killed anyone trespassing that had
it, either. What if he accidentally killed the girl? He was sure she wouldn't have whatever his ability to
come back was. After a few moments, he gave his mother a slow nod and rose to his feet. He would try to
teach her. He couldn't tell Mother no, or disappoint her. That would mean that he'd have to be extra
careful with the girl.

Before making his way back to the cellar, he cleaned the blood from his body, clothing and machete.

He returned nearly an hour later, clothes sticking to his skin with the dampness of cleaning himself.
When he entered the cellar, he found her hanging up her own wet clothes, covering the window with
them. She stood with her back to him, in only a pair of dry panties, working the wet, torn tank top into
the cracks surrounding the window, followed by her underwear. Her skin, too, was still damp, though
marginally drier than his own. His eyes roamed over the shiny skin and lingered over the glances of
bruises still left on her hips. Her back had gotten pretty scratched up, but it didn't seem to bother her.
Beneath the new, red abrasions, was a thin network of old scars, creeping over her back like a spider's web.
He'd never really noticed it, before. But, she hadn't really taken to the habit of remaining nude during
the daylight hours for long enough for anyone to really notice. Had the man she'd killed when he found
her, done that to her? Come to think of it, he didn't even know the relationship of the man to her. An ex
lover? Family member? Ex friend? She never talked about it.

Something about the scars on her back pulled at him. Some had permanently marked her. She was his, now.
And, he only had fading marks. It wasn't fair. He wanted to cover those marks with his own. She wouldn't
be going anywhere else, with anyone else. She was his, truly. But, what if the scars did belong to that man
and she hated being marked? What if the marks were a bad thing? He could settle for his semi permanent
ones, then.
'Did you- oh, for God's sakes, Voorhees,' he heard her say and looked at her face, again. She was studying
him with an expression of exasperation. 'You didn't even bother to dry off, before putting the clothes back
on.' She sighed and reached out to take his machete from him and hang it on the makeshift holder on the
wall, behind the sharpening wheel. 'Alright, take 'em off,' she demanded, holding out her hand, again. He
looked at the palm of her hand, then back to her face. 'C'mon, I've seen it all before. Well.. kind of, anyway.'
His eyes moved down to her breasts, heaving with her breathing. Something about seeing them in the
daylight made them more attractive. But, seeing them outlined in the moonlight was good, too. He
wanted to touch.

'Get 'em off, or I'll take them off for you,' she said a bit more firmly, and raised her eyebrows. He stepped
away from her, afraid that he might grab her and cause injury at any moment. She followed, taking it as
a negative sign. She gave another heavy sigh and reached out, towards the cloth hiding his head. He
dodged her questing hand and took another step back. She followed, of course. 'Stop it. I'm guessing there
isn't a Prince Charming under it, already.' She paused, waiting for her words to sink in. So, she knew that
he was.. different, under the fabric? He supposed it really didn't matter. She wouldn't be able to leave
anyway. He wouldn't allow her to. Her hand moved toward him, again, but he didn't move. He allowed her
to untie the string holding it in place and gingerly pull it over his head.

Indeed, no Prince Charming. He stared at her, intently, waiting for the explosive reaction that was sure
to come. But, it never did. She stared at him, without any particular look. No surprise, no disgust, again
with the blankness. After a moment, she looked away, only to hang the mesh of fabric next to her own
clothes. She wasn't frightened. His face reminded her of her favourite book, 'The Hunchback of Notre
Dame.' She'd never found the character of Quasimodo sexually attractive, but she wasn't surprised by the
description of him, either.

'Now that we've crossed that bridge, off with the rest of it,' she said, moving to take off his shirt. He
allowed it, raising his arms, cooperatively. Next came the belt and pants. As her fingers worked on his
belt, that weird feeling returned. Blood rushed to his groin and he took a deep breath. His pants did
nothing to hide his erection, but she paid no mind to it as she removed his belt. She worked off his boots
and the beyond repair socks he wore. She laid the socks out over the sharpening wheel. Finally, her
fingers worked the button and zip of his pants open and she pushed them over his thighs and down to his
ankles. With her face so close to him, he could hear the blood rushing in his ears, again. His heartbeat
sped up in anticipation. Her apparent calmness irritated him. He was bothered and she seemed indifferent
to it.. after she was the one to start this fire in the first place!

He cooperatively lifted his feet, to help her with the removal of his pants, and she laid them out over the
rickety table. When she looked up, his one good eye was staring between the both of their beds. She
glanced further down. Ah, so, he associated the bed with sex. For some reason, it was interesting to her.
Sort of like training a dog to not jump on the furniture, they begin to associate the furniture, itself, with
negativity. He stared at her. Ah, she knew what he wanted, and he knew it. He could see it in the almost
mischievous smirk on her lips. Would she press her lips to his, again, able to see the deformed features of
his face in the, now, dim light? He hadn't much thought of it, when she'd done it in the dark. But, now, he
wanted her to do it again. Just to prove to him that she wasn't disgusted or afraid of him.

'Alright, come on, then,' she said, softly. This time would be different. It seemed as if the entire
environment around them had changed. Everything had changed. He, suddenly, wasn't alone anymore; she
wasn't his captive. She was here of her own free will; with his face, the blood, his Mother, all of it.
Acceptance from a stranger that he never had as a child. She touched him without any fear, talked to
him in what he assumed was a normal way, that she spoke to anyone else. It was, undoubtedly, the oddest
acceptance ever. What was between them could hardly be called anything near 'love.' But, simple, basic,
animal acceptance would do. Accepting members of a pack.

She knelt down on the blankets that made up his bed and reached out toward him. As he moved toward
her, she studied the movement of his muscles under the bared skin. There wasn't a lot of light in the
cellar, especially with the clothes covering the window. But, the few dim bulbs that were kept on all day,
gave just enough light to create a nice shadowing effect on him as he walked. His face didn't frighten her,
even as he brought it closer to her own, kneeling on the bed in front of her. Without the constant grime
covering his skin, he was actually quite pale and scarred in places. He moved awkwardly toward her, not
particularly sure of what to do or how to initiate anything. He didn't have to worry, she knew what she
was doing.

She leaned back, to lie on the bed and pulled him by the arm, over her. Now, this was familiar. He'd killed
a few people in this very position. But, now, it didn't even matter. His mind was focused on one single
thing. That one single feeling that was still new to him, but all the more desirable of late. She moved him
into position and lifted her hips to place a pillow beneath them, giving him a better angle to work with.
She stroked his cock a few times, and the herself, making sure both of them were well and ready. She used
her feet to push him forward, from the back of his thighs and he obeyed. He pressed the head of his cock
in, and her muscles automatically squeezed together to block his entrance. He thrust forward, causing her
to grunt. 'Okay, no, Jason, you can't do that. Don't push against me like that, it hurts.' He didn't back away,
but at least he held himself still. 'Just let me get used to your being there for a sec, ya?' she said,
wiggling herself around, under him. He let out a disappointed huff but kept himself still, watching her
carefully. She carefully guided him further in, until he was fully inside.

She let out a long breath and nodded up to him. 'Alright, you can move, again.' He wasted no time,
thrusting as far as he could, into her. He pulled back almost til only the head of his cock remained, and
thrust back in, quickly. The movement was so sharp, as he continued, she began being forced along the
blankets of the bed. She felt like he might eventually tear her in half, if he kept on as he was. But, it
didn't hurt. Not in the usual way. It was a good kind of hurt. The kind that she would feel for a few days
afterward, remember why, and like it. At some point, her eyes had closed, but when she looked up at him,
she figured out why they might have done so without her permission. Jason's already distorted face was
now even more so, in concentration and determination. Droplets of sweat were making their way down
the side of his face and his one good eye seemed to be tearing up, too. The image before her was alluring
but equally disgusting, as well. It didn't take away any desire, if anything, it inflamed it even more. But,
she didn't want to see his face anymore. Not while they were like this.

She gripped his arms tight and used her legs to hold his hips, preventing his movement. 'Trying something
new, now,' she said, before he could express any disappointment, or anger. She wriggled herself free of him
and flipped over on her hands and knees. She faced the wall and presented her backside to him. He had
seen the bad people do this one, too. But, again, it didn't matter. She wasn't bad. He wasn't bad. This
couldn't be bad. He moved closer, not entirely sure how to go about this position. She gave him a nod and
helped him into position. Once in position, he pressed himself back into her, quickly, almost afraid that
she'd take herself away again.

He pressed her against the cold, stone and wood wall and thrust himself in and out, barely giving her
time to catch her breath. Oh, he liked it this way a lot more. It, again, felt different. All of her smooth
skin to look at, the muscles of her back squeezing together with ever thrust. The wall was scratching her
breasts and belly as he moved, but neither of them cared. Her fingers dug into the wood beams, abrading
the tips of her fingers and she cried out, but not in pain. She reached a hand between her legs and
frantically rubbed at her clit. God, all of the sensations together, were simply fantastic. Something she
could get used to with the man behind her pounding away as if his life depended on it. He gripped her
sides tight enough to replace the bruises that were fading just below, on her hips. He was holding her hips
still, as he thrust erratically into her, and she responded with more intense rubbing. He leaned close, his
hot, equally erratic breathing in her ear, sending shivers and electric pulses down her spine and out to
all of the right places. She almost had the urge to turn her head just a bit further and kiss him, but he'd
bent his head, biting her shoulder. The pain was exquisite. He didn't bite hard enough to draw blood, but
definitely leave a bruise to mark his place. He gave a ragged grunt and thrust himself a few last times,
hard, into her. The warmth of his come sent her into her own orgasm, and this time, she did scream. The
scream startled him and he withdrew his mouth from her shoulder, thinking it had caused her too much
pain. He started to pull away and she quickly reached back to hold him in place. 'No. Don't move, yet,' she
whispered. Her inner muscles were still contracting around his softening cock. 'Feels too good,' she said,
trying to catch her breath and leaning harder against the wall.

He held perfectly still until he'd slipped fully out of her and she collapsed sideways, onto the bed. He sat
back, slowly, on his heels, his thighs still trembling. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, the smell of
clean sweat and sex still lingering in the blankets. He tilted his head. Did she plan to stay on his bed?
Should he sleep in her's? After a moment, she patted the blankets beside her, wordlessly telling him to lie
down next to her. He did so, keeping his eye on the mark he'd made on her shoulder. A perfect bruise
replica of his teeth. She reached for the pushed away blankets and haphazardly threw them over each of
them. He laid down on his side, facing her and she faced the wall. She didn't want to see his face anymore,
yet, but she was sleeping next to him. That was something, wasn't it?

15
A/N: I'm throwing out a big huge WARNING for this chapter. It's a bit touchy and maybe a bit too
intense for some people. It's got child molestation/abuse in it, somewhat graphic.. ish. You've been warned.
If you're sensitive to it, don't bother with this chapter, you won't be missing TOO much.

The nights turned into days, turning into weeks and even a few months went by the both of them. Aside
from the two boys, there wasn't much excitement. But, August was still approaching, which meant that
the camping season was hardly over. Their days were boring and mundane, almost to an excessive point.
He allowed her to accompany him during hunts for food and to completely move about the camp, freely.
The urge to simply destroy her and make life easier had long passed with only occasional relapses.
Particularly, when she received some odd 'gift from her aunt Flo,' usually somewhere in the middle of
every month. He'd never seen any 'gift,' an aunt Flo, nor could he fathom how such a person could sneak
into the place completely undetected to deliver -anything- to her. But, whatever the gift was, she sure
as Hell never enjoyed it. -That- was beyond apparent.

They'd pulled their makeshift beds together to form one larger one and on most nights, the sex would
cause sheets to be found in all sorts of places on the floor, away from the bed. She was vocal about what
she wanted during those times, teaching him where to touch her and how to make her cry out for more
when she knew she couldn't handle it. Sometimes, he didn't care if she came or not. On those nights, he
could feel her squirming and hear her laboured breathing as she brought herself off. She never
complained about it, though. When they fucked, it was hard, rough and good. Primal and animalistic.
Purely Jasonesque.

++
Her eyelids felt heavier than usual, but she managed to summon the strength to open them. She was small
child. 8 years old at the very most. The room she stood in was steamy and the colour was a bright sunny
yellow. Deceptively sunny. There weren't any windows here and the steam made it hard for her to
breathe. She hated being in hot, humid places. Hated it with a passion. She reached a tiny hand out in
front of her and it connected with a glass door. A shower door. She was in a bathroom. A very very
familiar bathroom, at that. As the realisation of where she was hit her, the steam seemed to clear. Not
necessarily disappearing or letting up, but her eyes more adjusting themselves, freakishly to it.

Her heart began to race and she backed away from the glass door. She'd had this dream before. More than
once. Yet, her subconscious demand to wake up went unheeded. She was trapped. Horrifyingly young,
helpless and trapped. She felt suffocated even more, now. Just beyond the shower door was a man.. and
another small child. Younger than she, herself was. It was her sister, two years younger. The two of them
were spitting images of each other with their only difference at that time, being the age and height
between them. Both girls looked more like their mother than their father, blessedly.

The man was their father. He stood, towering, naked over her sister in the shower. The two of them
playing in the water, going about a shower just like any other parent and their child might. Her sister
laughed and crawled about the floor of the shower, completely unaware of their spectator. But, her
father's eyes found her in the steam. He glared down at her for a moment, then held out his monstrous
hand. 'Get in the tub,' he commanded. Her voice unable to come to her at that exact moment, she shook her
head. She didn't want to get in the shower. Not with him. Anyone, but him. She hated showers with that
man. She hated them, dreaded them, and feared them. Her sister adored them, as the baby of the family.
She was never beaten, never molested, never abused.

Her father reached out, grabbing the girl's arm and pulled her toward the tub. The air seemed to get even
thicker around her and she shook her head more vehemently. No! She didn't want to go into the shower!
He lifts her by her arm and forces her, roughly, under the water, barely missing the younger girl playing
at the back of the tub, now. In her panic, she gulps down water, choking and sputtering until her eyes
water and she feels nearly ready to throw up. But she doesn't dare. Instead, she curls in on herself,
letting the water run over her, all of it feeling as if it were searing her skin and further sealing her
doom. She stares at her unaware sister, this time with hatred. The stupid girl wasn't even aware of what
was happening, only fun for herself. Selfish bitch that she was.

'You don't tell me no, you got that? You'll do what I say or I'll make you, and you know I will, you stupid
little whore.' Her father's voice rains down on her and she dares a glance upward.

'Yes, sir,' she replies, the water drowning out the weak voice.

Her father's face lost it's importance and the focus was on his hands. Those horrible monster hands. One of
them bore down on her, striking her hard across the side of her face, causing her nose to bleed. 'I didn't
hear you, whore.'

'Yes, sir!' she cried out, trying unsuccessfully to sniffle the blood back into her own nostril before he could
see.
'Now look.. you've made a mess. We can't have your sister playing around in that shit.' Then, there's a
jumble of noise, voices and the squeak of someone leaving the tub. They were alone, now. Just her and
father. She wished for death, even at that age, during these moments. She understood the finality of it.
The absolute nothingness of death, and she craved it. She didn't understand happiness and never craved
such a thing. She didn't understand what it was to crave happiness. Death was the only option of escape
from her father in her world. She tried to curl herself into a tighter ball, on the floor of the tub, but
there was no escape. Fat, ugly fingers moved over her back, tracing her protruding spine and up into her
dirty, wet, lanky hair. 'Stop.' she commanded, but no voice left her.

The fingers tightened in her hair and jerked her head backward, til her face was being fully sprayed by
the water. A second hand covered in soap moved quick and rough across her face, then the water rinsed
it off just as quick. The hand in her hair pulled, motioning her to get to her feet in a hurry. She obeyed
with another 'Stop,' dying on her lips. The hand in her hair didn't let up it's painful grip, but she'd learned
long ago to not cry out in pain. She stayed silent. Hopes for it ending died with her silence. She kept her
lips sealed, even as that second hand lathered soap on the rest of her body, those ugly fingers lingering in
her more intimate areas. She shuddered against both hands, hating herself for the inability to simply end.
She'd even once gone completely kamikaze, angering this man til he beat her within an inch of her life,
hoping that it would do the trick. But, he always stopped short of merciful death. Bones broken, left
bleeding on the kitchen floor and unable to move until well into the night. Her brother and sister knew
well enough to simply leave her there and not bother her, lest they anger him and receive their own
punishment. But, the times he touched her like this were the worst. It hurt when he forced his fingers
into her, taking no mercy on the small, undeveloped body. It hurt when he squeezed the sides of her jaw
so tight she was forced to open her mouth and he shoved his disgusting cock in. Her eyes burned with
silent tears and this time was no different. It was Hell everytime.

But this time, when he pulled her tiny mouth from him, she did cry out. One last 'STOP!'
++

'STOP!' she shouted and bolted upright in the bed, startling Jason. He backed up, slamming himself into the
wall behind him, and looked around for the immediate danger. It was pitch black and both of them were
naked and tangled in the sheets. Sweat poured over her skin and tears ran tracks down her dirty face.
Right now, she was never more glad to be filthy. A complete slap in the face to her father's constant
'clean' obsession with her. She paused, taking in the dark and the sound of quick breathing next to her. 'I
need to go to the lake,' she said, suddenly crawling out of the tangle of sheets and wrapping one around
herself. Before her words could even work their way into his brain, she was gone.

After a moment of hesitation, he pulled on a pair of pants and went after her. When he arrived at the
lake, he watched as she threw random stones into the water, shouting 'I hate you!' after casting each of
them. He simply watched her, until her fingertips began to bleed and she knelt at the end of the pier.
When she seemed done with throwing rocks, he moved closer, until he stood just behind her, his boots
nearly touching the sheet around her. 'He did this to me, Jason,' she said, softly. 'He made me crazy
enough to be here, with you.' She sniffled and lowered her face into the sheets. 'He made me a murderer.
He made me crazy enough to -want- to stay here, with a deformed, legendary serial killer. He fucked me
up in the head. I don't want kids or a husband. What good are they, hm? What good am I, for being a
woman and not wanting such things for myself?'

She hid her face even more and cried harder. When she finally looked up and turned her face toward
him, there was a sort of fire in her eyes. Her words meant nothing to him. But that fire did. Words, he
understood little of them, but body language was completely different. He understood body language
completely. He still didn't like to go without his face covered, but tonight had caught him off his guard.
There was only a sliver of moonlight to be shown, but what little light there was, outlined the distortion
of his face. Her eyes traced the lines of light, before whispering 'kiss me, Jason.' She'd uttered the words
to him before, but under more passionate circumstances. Her body suggested that she was broken in some
way. Or guilty of something, at the very least. He didn't understand, but the command was one of the few
that he -did- understand.

He knelt down and did as she commanded, pressing his deformed lips against her own, again. At first, it
was a light, almost timid pressing of lips, and then she pushed her tongue into his mouth. He understood,
suddenly, what she was truly asking him for and judging by his own bodily reaction, it wasn't much to ask
of him at all. With one hand, he pushed her down, til she lay on her back, the sheet covering the wood of
the pier below them. He made quick work of removing his pants and slowly opening the sheet enough to
cover the wood below both of them and expose her flesh to the moonlight. It was the best way he liked to
see her skin. The black and white contrast of darkness and moonlight. Her tears had stopped, but she still
cried out when he pushed into her. He moved slowly, this time, instinct telling him to do so. Her body
language didn't demand the usual roughness between them, but something softer for this time.

Once he was fully inside of her, she wriggled around until her muscles accustomed themselves to his size
and wrapped her legs tight around his waist. 'All of me, Jason.' This particular request was rare, between
the two of them. Rare, but not unfamiliar. He, obediently, moved one of his hands to her mouth and pushed
a finger between her lips. She swirled her tongue around it, tasting sweat and a bit of dirt, as she did so.
He pulled it from her mouth and massaged the entrance to her rear. He eased the finger inside of her,
painfully slow, until he had it fully enveloped. He positioned his body to sit up straighter, raising himself
more onto his knees, while she supported herself with her legs wrapped around his waist. He pressed two
fingers of his other hand, into her mouth and began to move his cock in and out of her, slow and hard. His
fingers mimicking the movement in their respective places in her body. She sucked and moaned around his
fingers, while his cock and finger thrust in and out of her body in a steady rhythm, moving faster as they
both felt the coil in their bellies begin to tighten. She wanted him in every part of her that he could be
in, protecting her, in away, from anyone else's intrusion.

Noone else could touch her with him there. Ever. It didn't take long for either of them to reach orgasm,
still moderately sensitive from sex earlier in the evening. But, when she did, her body shook hard and she
felt as if the dream had been shaken from her. This man wanted her in the most basic of ways. Nothing
evil or ill-intentioned. Nothing hurtful. Simple, uncontrollable want, sometimes. But, in the end, she
controlled him 100% of the time. If she said stop, he did. Harder, he did. Faster, he obeyed. It was almost
painful to realise that she trusted Jason more than she'd ever trusted her own blood.

A/N pt2: The dream in this chapter is actually a recurring night terror that I have, in detail. It horrifies
me, even to this day, even when I know what's going to happen. Just thought I'd share that.. it's not a
random thing that I just thought up.

16
A/N: Sorry it's been so long, guys. I've had a busy busy few months..and it's not over yet! However, this is
the beginning of the end of my story, here.

-----------------------------
Over the course of the next few months and throughout the winter season, Jason taught her to mimic
himself perfectly. When she hunted, she was quiet as death. The only difference between them and their
hunting styles, was that she proved more fruitful in the lake, itself. In all of the time he'd been cast out
into the lake, he'd never learned to swim. He, usually, walked along the bottom of it. But, she could swim
and quite well. She used it to her advantage, when it came to catching the meager fish that seemed to
thrive in the lake.They didn't feast but the meals were sufficient and frequent enough to keep the two of
them alive and strong. She still did the things that grated on his nerves, such as random singing of his
name, until eventually she came to the realization that he'd never talk back. Ever. He, himself, wasn't
even sure that he knew how. He knew that when he was a child, he did talk. To Mother. Who,
coincidentally, had been abnormally quiet. She wouldn't say anything for weeks at a time.

But with that oddness came another. He didn't mind the silence. Before, he'd have wondered and worried
himself over his mother's silence. But, now, there was a comfort in it. He knew she wasn't silent out of
anger. On the contrary. The few times he'd given serious thought to ending the girl, his mother would
suddenly chime in and demand that he keep her close still. He was still her good boy. He would always be
that.The girl was the closest thing he even had to a friend of any kind. She might even be considered a
best friend of some sort.He admitted to himself that there was a comfort in her presence, now, no matter
how much she managed to irritate him.

One of the far end bells tingled and Jason looked up from his table covered in chains and spare trapping
parts. The girl hadn't seemed to notice, sitting further away on the stairs, reading the same book she'd
read a thousand times since being with him. She'd even tried to read him some of it, but the language in
'The Hunchback of Notre Dame' was too difficult for him to piece together. He could barely understand it.
He waited, patiently, to hear if another bell, a closer one, would tingle. If it did, it meant there was
something intelligent out there and it wasn't simple an animal grazing.After a few minutes, he gave up
and returned to tinkering with the trap parts on the table. After a moment, the bell closest to them
sounded and both of them jumped up, silently. The tinkle was followed by heavy footsteps coming towards
them and then standing just above. Jason reached out, silently, grabbing his machete.

There was a pause and then a sound. A sound the girl hadn't heard in a long time and that Jason had
never heard. It was the sound of someone calling her name. A man's voice. She reflexively crouched down,
on the stairs and looked at Jason for instruction.As Jason took a step toward her, the sound of more
steps stormed towards them and rested above them. There had to be at least 10 people in the room just
above them, now. She shook her head desperately and held out her hand to signal him to stop. There were
too many of them together for him and her to take on all at once. There was a mumbled jumble of voices
then the footsteps all spread out to the different rooms of the cabin above them. She heard her name
called out a few more times, before the steps and voices completely disappeared.

She kept her eyes wide and trained on Jason, while he studied the floor above them, as if he had the
ability to actually see through it. When silence fell once again, he looked at her. Was she protecting
them? No. She feared them for some reason. The fear was clear in her eyes. 'They're searching for me!' She
whispered, hoarsely. She rarely used her voice anymore. There wasn't much need with Jason and the
same schedule they followed on a daily basis. 'They can't find me, they'll take me away!' They'd most
likely hold her and question her about the disappearance of her father. Or, they might've already found
him at the bottom of the lake and somehow linked her to the murder. They'd never understand her.
Never understand why she did it or why she wanted to stay here with a serial killer.

'They want to take her away from you, Jason! They can't have her. She belongs to us! Don't let them have
her, Jason!' Mother's voice was loud in his mind. Loud and commanding. Yes, she belonged to them, now, not
the men up there. She'd belonged to them once, but they'd driven her here, to the lake. They couldn't have
her back and she didn't seem to be excited to return to them, herself.

That night, there were no screams of pleasure. That night was made for screams of another sort entirely.

The spent the day moving underground carefully, and Jason made trips outside to set up a few more trap
lines to the bells. At night, they were prepared for anything. They emerged from the underground cellar,
camouflaged with the night and woods around them. A line of four dark coloured cars, two cop cars and a
white economy van parked themselves in front of the main cabin. They held a meeting there, apparently
and shortly after, 2 other cars, white and unlabeled pulled in as well. The group of people intimidated
her, but Jason seemed confident enough. Hard to tell with his face completely hidden from view and no
words. But the set of his shoulders told his stories, sometimes.

Two women stepped out of the first car and all but ran into the cabin. A man emerged from the second
car began gathering things out of his backseat. Jason moved in. The girl kept herself close to him. They
moved closer to the man and she was the first to step out into the open. She stood in the dim, flickering
lights of the driveway, dingy and wild. She cleared her throat and the man hastily backed out of his car,
bumping his head on the inside of the door on the way out. He stood taller than her but about a head
shorter than Jason. His eyes widened at the sight of her, almost as if he recognized her. And, after a brief
moment of hesitation, he did. 'Hey! You're her! The one we're looking for, aren't you?'

She shook her head and took a single step backward, out of the light. Jason stood only a couple of steps
back from her, completely cloaked in darkness. The man was older and wore glasses. Probably couldn't
even make an outline of Jason, where he stood. The man walked quickly to her, reaching out to grab her
arm. As soon as he was close enough, she moved to the side allowing Jason to plunge his machete straight
into the man's chest. She listened as his body thumped to the ground. One down. But, this was an easy
target. There was at least half a dozen other people to take out.

It wasn't long before another man came out, probably to look for the man they'd just killed. He looked out
over the cars, then took a cigarette from behind his ear and lit it. He turned his back to them, to criticize
the wood of the cabin door and the dilapidated state of the porch he stood on. 'They should really fix this
fuckin' place up.. ' he muttered to himself. 'Nothin' but a fucking death trap, out here.' Jason made his way
around the porch, to the front of it, just behind where the man stood. In a heartbeat, Jason swung the
blade low to the porch, slicing into one of the man's ankles. He let out a pained yelp and dropped to the
rotted wooden floor. His weight caused the wood to crack below him, dropping him to the insect infested
ground below. 'What the fuck! What the fuck!' He repeated to himself as he struggled on the ground.

The girl made her way up to the hole and stabbed him in the throat with a small, handmade dagger. There
was noise from inside the cabin and the door opened to more people than they'd assumed were there.
There were eight people in their immediate sight, trying to get a peek out of the door to see what all of
the noise outside was about. The girl panicked, Jason could see it in her eyes as she froze. He reached out,
grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her backwards, toward him. There were too many. The man in the
hole's last gasps of breath brought everyone's attention back to him, before they all began filing outside
and running towards them.

The girl whimpered at the sharp pain of her hair being pulled, but pulled herself together enough to run.
Jason didn't bother to run, instead walking at a steady pace, behind her and the small hoard of people
running behind him. Two men leaped on top of Jason, causing his pace to slow, but he continued to move
forward, determined not to let her out of his sight. She was his. Two of the police officers ran past him
and tackled the girl to the ground. That snapped him out of his mental lull and he launched a fist
directly into the first face that appeared in front of him. There was a sickening crack of bone and the
man's face was pushed into his own head, by the force of it. Another body hit the ground and Jason's pace
finally sped up.

The girl struggled, kicking and even biting one of the officer's arms. 'Let me go! Let me go! I don't want to
go! Jason!' She screamed at the top of her lungs. Another man jumped on Jason, locking his arms around
the massive shoulders and once again, slowing him down. 'Jason! JASON!' the girl cried, as the officers
dragged her away. 'Please, Jason! Don't let them take me away! Please!' She managed to free a hand and
she reached it out towards him. This time, he did run. Someone fired a gunshot, behind him, but the sound
didn't even matter right now. Nothing had hit him. They dragged the girl toward the white van, in the
driveway.

There was yelling all around him, but the only one he could make out clearly was the high pitched
scream of the girl calling his name and begging him to not let them take her away. There was another
gunshot and this time, he was hit. Blood spewed from the bullet hole in his back. Just to the left of his
spine, and he dropped to the ground. The girl watched in horror. 'JASON!' She screamed, tears of fear and
grief streaming down her face. She was thrown into the white van, the doors quickly shut and locked
behind her. The floor of the van was cold against her tear and dirt stained face. She repeated his name,
under her breath, even when she felt the van quickly start and pull away from the camp. There was chain
link and plexi-glass surrounding her, along the walls and windows of the van. They were taking her away
from Jason. She belonged to Jason. They were stealing her.

((For some reason, nothing but my AN posted. Hopefully, it works, now. Also, in response to the last
reviewer.. no, this isn't the last chapter.. but, the next one will be.))

17
5 YEARS LATER.. .

'She's only been allowed to room with the other residents for about 7 months, now. Still hasn't matured
socially, and refuses to speak for the most part. When she first arrived, she only repeated a few
sentences over and over. Now, the only thing she ever says if she -does- speak is 'I belong to Jason.' That's
it.' The woman dressed in the pure white garb of a nurse stopped at the door to room 48 and turns to a
man dressed in a dark gray business suit. 'She, also, collects newspaper clippings of the Crystal Lake Killer.
We believe that's the Jason that she refers to, since that's where we found her. Some of the rumours
even say that she was found -with- Jason Voorhees. No idea what the relationship is between them,
exactly,' she continues, as she fumbles through the massive ring of keys in one hand, to unlock the door.
'When asked about him, she absolutely refuses to give any information. We believe that he may have
abused her in some way. She was covered in bruises and lacerations. And, the complete physical revealed
recent sexual activity, including sodomy.' The nurse took a breath and opened the door.

The girl sat on the very edge of her bed, back to the door. Her hair lay in a long, dirty curtain around her
face. She didn't even twitch at the sound of the door opening. Her head remained bowing down and her
breathing continued to remain deep and steady. She looked unconscious. She sat, facing a wall covered in
newspaper and magazine clippings with loud headlines like : 'Crystal Lake Serial Killer?!' and 'Camp Blood
Re-Opens, Killer Still On The Loose!'

'Is she always this unresponsive?'

'Yep. I hardly ever see her twitch, let alone eat or sleep. Sometimes I wonder if she ever moves from that
spot, aside from putting up more papers. She gets a new roommate today. Maybe some company will liven
her up.'

For a long moment, there's silence and the girl can feel both pairs of eyes on her back.. studying her. She
hears the rustle of papers, followed by the jingle of keys and the door closing. 'Next room, then?' The
nurse said as they left the room, locking the door behind them.

===============

The door opened hours later. She remained in the same spot, facing the same wall, covered in the same
pictures. There's a shuffle of sock-covered feet before the door is closed and locked again. A pale, scrawny
girl stands there, staring at the unmoving girl on the bed. Her hair is a dirty-blonde colour and looks as
though it hadn't been combed through in well over a few days. 'So, you're the creepy thing they're all
talking about in the group sessions?' She shuffles over to the bed on the opposite wall from the other's.
'Great. I always get stuck rooming with the weirdos,' she says, flopping on the bed. 'Name's Stacey, what
are you in for?' she asked, as she plucked at the ends of the crisp white sheets under her.

The girl didn't respond.

'Do you talk or what? Are you one of those mute freaks?'

The statement caused the girl to blink and slowly raise her head. A mute? Jason was a mute, sort of. He
never talked and made rare, unintelligible noises when doing strenuous activities. She stared, intently, at
one of the pictures on the wall.

'Why do you have all that shit on the wall, about Voorhees? You a fan or something?'

'I belong to Jason,' she said, softly.

'You belong to him?' Stacey sat up. 'What do you mean you belong to him? He's not here, you know?' She
padded over to the wall of pictures and studied them carefully. 'The rumour is they found you there
with that guy. They say you were kidnapped by him orsome crazy shit. That he might have messed you up
in the head.' She sniffled. 'Doesn't seem like they were too far off, from what I can tell,' she snickered at
her own words.
The girl reached out an emaciated looking hand, toward the walls. 'I belong to Jason,' she repeated.

'You two were lovers or something? That's fucking sick. I heard he was retarded and deformed. Who
would love something like that? And, he kills people, too? Crazy shit.' She smirked and knelt down in front
of the girl. 'Did you fuck him, too?'

The statement caused the girl to look up, eyes burning, staring straight at the disheveled blonde thing in
front of her.

'You did, didn't you? That's so fucking disgusting!' She stood, bouncing from one foot to the other, in
victory. 'How was he? What did it feel like, hmm?'

The girl balled her hands into tightly clenched fists.

'What's it like to fuck a retarded serial killer, you sick bitch?'

Before she could properly think it out, her fist connected with Stacey's jaw with a sickening crunch. She
was standing, staring down at her, as blood poured from her mouth. 'What the fuck is your problem?!' She
yelped, from the floor, covering her bleeding mouth.

The girl reached out, grabbing the first thing her hand came into contact with; a pair of dull-bladed
safety scissors. The kind they give to kindergartners. The very scissors she cut every one of the pictures
on the wall, out with. She moved, quickly, trapping the girl beneath her. She saw red as she felt the blunt
edges of the scissors burst through the girl's eye and lodge itself into her brain. It was soft. Everything
felt soft, except the hard, now slippery plastic of the handle on the scissors.

She released the scissors and walked back toward her own bed. She sat in her usual place, her breathing
slowing down to the usual steady pace. She stared, hard, at the pictures of Jason on the wall, before
bowing her head once more.

'I belong to Jason,' she whispered one last time.

===============

EPILOGUE
===============

He looked down at his hand. The dimming candle light glistened off of the cream-coloured liquid covering
it. The physical release had been gratifying, but the girl was still missing. They'd taken her away from
Crystal Lake. He knew it because he'd scoured every inch of land around the lake. Not a trace of her. Days
turned into weeks, months and now, years. He'd killed dozens of people, since they'd taken her from him.
He'd killed them without Mother even having to give the command. They were all bad, in his eyes.

Those people. They belonged to a place that had stolen his friend. His lover, even. Taken what was his and
never returned her.

Mother had been right. She had made him stronger. With her kidnapping came a stronger desire for
vengeance. A more determined Jason Voorhees was born that night. He would kill and continue to do so,
without hesitation. Everything had been taken from him and he'd be damned if they'd take his land away.

He wiped his hands clean on a damp cloth and lie back on the bed that they'd shared on many occasions.
He always kept a second pillow off to the side, just in case she ever returned to him. Her pillow. He could
imagine her scent was still on it, just as if she'd risen with him that very morning and had never gone
away. He gingerly sniffed the pillow and settled back on his own side of the bed.

Tomorrow started what they all called 'Spring Break.' The busiest time of the year for idiotic teenagers
looking for the dangerous legend of the Camp Blood Killer. They wouldn't find him, he would find them.
And, they would never make it home to their own parents. He would see to that. He glanced over to the
infamous hockey mask, lying at the very edge of the bed. He no longer required sleep, but he would lay
there in his memories of Mother and the girl, for hours. Nearly the same as dreaming to him.

THE END

+++++++++
The Virus of Life - by Slipknot/Corey Taylor

(Yeah)

I can see you but you can't see me

I could touch you and you wouldn't even feel me
Wait a second and you'll settle down
I'm just waiting, 'til you really let your guard down
You're relaxed, you're sublime, you're amazing
You don't even know the danger you're facing
If I'm quiet, I'll slide up behind you
And if you hear me I'll enjoy trying to find you

I've been with you all day

I'm trying to stay calm
I'm impatient and it's really hard to breathe
I'm going to empty you and fill you in with me

Just keep the violence down

Not yet - don't make a sound
Oh God I'm feeling it
It's reaching fever pitch
My skin is caving in
My heart is driving out
No mercy, no remorse
Let nature take its course

Watching - Bring me to my knees

waiting - I am your disease
Lover - set my symptom free
Covered - you won't feel a thing
You can't feel a thing

(shh, wait, shh, no, wait, wait, no, shh, wait, wait, not yet, no, wait, wait)

I'm sweating through my veins

I'm trying to hold on
It's unbearable, it's almost worse for me
I'm gonna tear you apart and make you see
MAKE YOU SEE!

Watching - Bring me to my knees

waiting - I am your disease
Lover - set my symptom free
Covered - you won't feel a thing

This is the virus

THE VIRUS OF LIFE
This is inside us
The crisis, the knife
This is the virus
The virus of life
This is inside us
The crisis, the knife

It's almost time to play

It's time to be afraid
I can't control the pain
I can't control in vain
Oh God I'm ready now
You're almost ready now
I'm gonna love you now
I'm gonna break put you down
I see you in the dark
I see you all the way
I see you in the light
I see you plain as day
I wanna touch your face
I wanna touch your soul
I wanna wear your face
I wanna burn your soul

Watching - Bring me to my knees

waiting - I am your disease
Lover - set my symptom free
Covered - You can't love me

This is the virus, the virus of life

This is the virus, the virus of life
This is the virus, the virus of life
This is the virus, the virus of life

THIS IS THE VIRUS, THE VIRUS OF LIFE!

THIS IS THE VIRUS, THE VIRUS OF LIFE!
THIS IS THE VIRUS, THE VIRUS OF LIFE!

Killin' Time
The man stirred from his slumber, wrinkling his nose at the dark hair in his face. A lithe, supple body was
nestled against his own lanky form dressed in warm clothes to keep warm in the cold, dank underground
cavern the organization staged its headquarters. The man's arm was thrown casually over the woman's
hip but wasn't meant in a suggestive manner. He reached up to brush the dark brown hair from his face,
reflecting that her natural blonde hair color suited her much better. She was young and attractive, hell
she was gorgeous, and he was a grizzled pale thing. Here he was all snuggled up with this bundle of hidden
talent and sexiness and he only regarded her as a favored little sister. She finally stirred and woke up
yawning, saying, "Is it today or tomorrow, Otis?"

"Hah, it's tomorrow, Angel. We got work to do, remember. Gotta impress these fuckers."

Stretching, she sits up, wondering if this sleeping in the tunnels crap was part of the initiation, to see if
they'd go through with it. She thinks back to a few days ago when this strange guy calling himself the
'Professor' approached them, seemingly knowing quite a bit about them. He told them he represented an
organization who could use their talents and natural tendencies--and pay them quite nicely. Otis was all
for it, tired of living precariously off what he could steal. They both get to their feet, loosening up
stiffened joints from the crappy environment. "So how we gonna do it?," Angel Baby asks.
"We could do the good ol' lure em in and gut em," suggests the pasty creature in man's clothing. "You're
just so good at hookin those retards."
She giggles, fishing through her knapsack for a brush to tame her mane of dyed-dark hair. Soon enough
the tattooed weirdo calling himself the Professor came to see them. "You have to bring the body back
here so we can have our ritual and accept you," he reminded them, sporting his satanic garb and shaven
head. "Good luck. We'll be waiting for you."

At a truck stop in the middle of nowhere, Alabama, Angel Baby loitered on the sidewalk. Chomping gum
and hip thrust out, she was clad in a mini skirt and tiny t-shirt that had been cropped till it barely
covered the bottom of her breasts. She managed all at once to look bored, seductive and innocent. After a
while a gullible trucker approached her, beaming a tobacco-stained smile at her hopefully. They
negotiated a price for her.. shall we say, services, and she suggested they retire to her hotel room to get
down to business. He was a tall drink of water wearing a stained cap and blue work shirt and he
immediately ushered her into his 18-wheeler's cab. Baby and her woven purse bounced up into the
passenger side, grinning cherubicly at him. "It's just down the road, here. Turn off at the next right," she
told him.

"Shure thing, hotcakes," he acquiesced. Man oh man, she was a hot one! A scant few miles later he pulled
into a cheaptastic hotel parking lot, it's neon sign only half lit. It didn't matter to him as long as he didn't
have to spend a night alone and masturbate once again.

"You're not married, are you?," Baby asks him coyly as they locate her room. She'd noticed him being
fidgety and acting nervous.

"Uh, no.. it's just that I ain't never done this before," he answered bashfully.

She jiggled the key in the rusty door lock and opened the creaky door, saying "Ah, I'll take good care of
ya, mister." Taking his hand she leads him inside and flicks on the light. He wasn't expecting much from
the room, and it didn't disappoint. The ratty carpet was burnt and stained and the musty bed didn't
appear much better but he followed the dark-haired, blue-green-eyed girl willingly. She stepped out of
her boots and sat on the bed. "Well, come on. I don't bite, silly," she giggles. He pulls off his shirt and sits
beside her, watching as she removes her t-shirt in one smooth move. Bare from the waist up she leans
against him, kissing him. Tentatively he kisses her back, feeling her pert breasts pressing against his chest.

It was a few moments before the trucker actually registered that a ghostlike figure came rushing out of
the restroom screaming with hatchet in hand. With surprising agility Baby twists and leaps backwards
out of the way while Otis buries the hatchet in the back of the man's head. Crimson shoots out of the
terrible wound, drenching the bed and Otis's pants. Adrenaline from the awesome rush pumping through
his system, the pale man stands there breathing deeply, eyes glittering with pleasure. The trucker jerks a
few times then slumps forward and lays still. The girl pokes him to see if he responds. Nothing; he was
dead, Otis did his job well. Baby cleans his pockets and takes his ID, Otis washes the blood off his weapon
and hands. They were quite an efficient team. They put the cap back on the guy's head and clean him up--
audaciously they both decided to 'help' him to their car as if he were unconscious in broad daylight. "Uh,
Angel, ya might wanna put yer shirt back on," Otis tells her. "Not that I don't mind ya bein half-nekkid or
anything."

Baby laughs, picking the discarded article of clothing up. "Otis, you dawg."
The trio rode merrily down the highway in their stolen Cadillac.. well, the two live ones, at least. The
corpse was seated between the murdering pair as they travelled. "La la la-la laaaa," singsonged Baby, then
threw the corpse's left arm across Otis' shoulders. He swerved the vehicle, swearing, then realized it was
just his adopted sister fucking with him. They both laughed. Then the girl began lifting the dead man's
right arm and waving it at people they passed. "Boy this guy's a real hoot," declared Otis as he nodded his
head at the friendly passersby who were responding to the dead guy waving at them.

"Whew," went Angel Baby, tired of the heat. "I'm thirsty. Ain't we there yet?"

"Don't start that 'Are we there yet' shit again, girl," threatened Otis. "But I gotta piss soon so we'll stop at
the next place."

The gas-guzzler pulled to a stop at a tiny little gas station. "Don't go anywhere," mocked Baby at the
corpse as she exited the car. He was starting to smell pretty ripe in the blistering heat. "And Otis--we
can't take any chances gettin' back to the Professor. No killin!"

Otis turned fake-hurt eyes to her, saying "Aww, you don't trust me?" and shoving a pistol down his pants.
He was a bedraggled sight in his holey t-shirt and equally ripped-up bellbottoms, and his body was long
and slender. He wasn't big and bulky but radiated a dangerous masculinity nonetheless as he strode inside
the establishment to ask for use of the toilet. That Angel Baby, always looking out for him--she did have
a practical side to her. Must take it after her mother, Eve. While he was attending nature's needs Baby
purchased a six-pack of bottles of Coke, batting her pretty eyes at the clerk who fumbled with the cash
register. When she lifted her arm to adjust her signature cowboy hat on her head he caught a glimpse of
the bottom half of a well-formed breast and aureola. Then she grabbed the Coke and winked at him,
turning and sashaying out the front door. The clerk almost ejaculated in his pants right then.

Her strange companion emerged from the restroom, his lank platinum hair falling to his waist. He winked
at the clerk as he exited the gas station, giggling. The clerk stood blinking and bewildered.

"Ok, I didn't do anything," Otis tells Baby as they pull out of the parking lot onto the road. "But next time,
I get to do ALL the killin."

"Awright, awright," agrees Baby. "As long as I get to fuck em first."

"Wellll," crooned the Professor, dark eyes taking in the inert body brought before him. "You did the deed?"
The pair nodded their heads yes. "And the weapon you did it with?"

Otis brandished the hatchet and Baby pulled the cap from the trucker's head, showing the matching
wound. "Good!" The Professor gestured to some of his people who took the body from Otis and Baby. "We'll
have your induction ceremony tonight. You'll be shown to your quarters tonight.. if you don't want
separate chambers you may have--"

"Naw, that's fine," interjected Otis. He craved his privacy. "Baby's my little sister."

"Oh." The man blinked at them, thinking how on earth could those two be related? "See you tonight."

That night, the demonic pair discovered they must join the Satanic cult to finalize the group's trust in
them and partake in their rituals. Sounded like fun! They were dressed in flowing robes and led down a
long line of established members who inclined their heads at them in recognition. Many of the key
leaders were standing at the front of this vast chamber underground, Soloman and the Professor and
Quayle and Lisa, who all took turns giving rousing speeches. Then they gestured to a tripod with a
roaring fire crackling in it, with something savory roasting over it. Turns out, it was the unlucky
trucker. After drinking alcohol laced with some kind of hallucinogenic Otis and Angel Baby didn't really
care what happened. They ate the man's cooked flesh with gusto with their new peers. It tasted
like.. pork.

Baby awoke late the next morning in her new domicile naked with an aching head and a muscular arm
laying across her. It was the vampiric-looking Soloman in bed with her.. wow, she must've had a good time.
She was drained, contented and sore between her legs.. She stretched and slid out of bed, padding to her
knapsack to find some clothes to put on.

"Yer quite a tiger, m'dear," he said, grey eyes opening and focusing on her. Unlike the Professor's vague
accent he had an Alabama drawl with drew her in. Must be why she fucked her brains out last night.
Watching her dress, he commented, "I can't stop watching you, honeypie, but the Professor has a job for
you and the pale man already. Go see him soon as ya can."

Otis had a languid, satisfied look to him for once when she met up with him and she scented another
woman on him. So he had a blast last night as well, that would explain his usual intensity being subdued.
Lisa humped him every which way but loose last night, thinking about it put a lazy smile on his face. The
dark-haired, elfin woman was still in his room when he left to find Baby and the Professor.

Their first assignment was tracking down a traitor to Satan's Minions and bringing his head back to them
for verification. They would be well compensated for the act. "Well, Baby," spoke Otis as they prepared to
leave. "Looks like the adventure you wanted!" She'd followed him because she had never been outside of
Ruggsville all of her young life and wanted to see the country and do new things. She was beaming her
exceptional smile as they struck out.

Eliminate the Competition

Ramon was a snitch; he'd been caught being careless by the police and plea bargained to save his own ass.
He would point the finger at the Professor's organization and hope the police protection would save him.
That's where Otis B. Driftwood and Vera-Ellen 'Angel Baby' Firefly come in.. master criminals and
murderers, they could go where the other members could not or dare not. They tracked their target's
flight and came up with a name and location that the Witness Protection Program had given him. Baby
was astonished at how smart, thorough and creative Otis could be, it was he that found the fool. She
gained a new appreciation for her father's partner-in-crime.

"Now how to do it.. " considered the long-haired man.

"Best to get him at home, I think. He's livin alone, thinkin' he's safe," suggests the girl. "Wait till around
dark. Then--"

"Then we get to play," hisses Otis with anticipation. They checked their arsenal before camping out across
the street from Ramon's suburban house. The 40-ish, nondescript rat took his trash out, puttered about
outside, seemingly unaware of two extremely volatile predators observing him. When night fell, they
made their move, walking right up to the front door and ringing the doorbell.

Stupidly, Ramon opened it, and Otis' wiry arm shot out and knocked it against the man's face, both he and
Baby entering the house smooth as silk.

"What the--?!," he stammered, dropping the sandwich he was eating. Then the realization crawled across
his plain features, he saw the strangers' faces and read his death there. "Wait," he screeched as they
advanced on him. "Whatever the Minions are offerin' you, I can better! I'll double it! Good business,
yanno? Come on!"

Baby sidles up to him, purring. "You think this is business, dead man? Hahahahaha! We'd kill you for free.
Killin is what we do," she breathes in his face, sending a thrill of fear up his spine. That was when he
produced a handgun from his back pocket and swung it at Baby. She caught metal in the temple and
stumbled back holding her head.

Otis brought his own gun to bear on Ramon, who dived to the floor squeezing off a couple of rounds. A
bullet grazed Otis' cheek; he'd dodged just in time. Baby had her weapon trained on Ramon, who's attention
had switched to her. As if in slow motion, both had the business end of their guns pointed at each other,
and both squeezed the trigger...Baby was faster, however, putting two rounds in Ramon's chest. He slumped
onto the floor on his back, gun falling out of stiffening fingers. Otis stood over him and emptied his gun
into Ramon's abdomen, blood and chunks peppering the Persian rug he was lying on. "Sneaky fucker," he
growled. "You ok?," he goes over to the woman and helps her up.

"I'm fine," she says, dusting herself off. "Didn't last as long as I hoped."

Otis pulled out his machete, saying, "Well, after we get the head what say we have some fuuuun before
headin' back?"

Angel Baby giggles and throws her arms around Otis in an adoring hug.
A few miles down the road at a more rural house, hours later, presents another picture in carnage. The
small house was permeated with the scent of sex, fear, and death. Otis was having intercourse with the
recently expired woman of the house's corpse. A nude, bloodspattered Baby was chopping up the body of
the woman's hapless husband in the next room, sated, dreamy expression on her blood encrusted face. She
had promised the man his and his wife's freedom if he could please her, and man had he tried. Angel had
him tied up and rode him till he was spent, then fucked him some more. She squeezed every drop he had in
him out and when her aching sexual needs were satiated and he was begging her to stop she hit him
repeatedly with a chunk of wood she'd picked up from outside until he moved no more.

She could hear Otis' moans of pleasure as he finished with the lady. Baby jumped in the shower in the
single spacious bathroom and washed the bodily fluids and dirt off her supple skin. She noticed Otis was in
the room when she was finishing up, turning the squeaky knobs to the off position and peering around the
curtain. Her companion was staring at his reflection blankly in the mirror above the sink; she'd never
seen him so pensive, especially after a session like he'd just had. She threw a towel around herself and
stepped carefully onto the tile. "Otis?," she asked. His pale naked form tensed then relaxed as he turned
light blue eyes to her. "Are yew all right?"

"Am I?," he returned hoarsely. Baby was at a loss; he should be elated and happy just as she was after all
the fun. "I don't know whut's wrong," he muttered. "Feelin sorry for mahself I guess," he glanced back to
the mirror and sunk his fist into it, drawing back a bloody fist. "Look at me, terrifying females
everywhere I go." He chuckled, eyes returning to the self-confident madman Baby was used to.

She knew he sometimes hated his appearance, but it rarely surfaced. He was proud of his abilities and
self-assured much of the time, but the alienation and sense of rejection was still there, ingrained in him
as an abused child and unwanted teenager. He climbed in the shower to clean himself up. "Well, we gotta
disposes of these assholes then back to the lair," Otis said over the shower spray.

Towel-drying her dark brown hair, Baby says, "Yep, and more fun times with the crew. I think that Lisa
has a thing for you."

"She might be worth fuckin' with. While havin' a go I tried to kill her last night, she just twisted the
knife outta my hand and kept fuckin. Never missed a beat."

"Nice! Maybe you should keep that one a while," Angel Baby was glad Lisa sought his bed out on her own.
She also thought about seeking the slender beauty out herself..

"Very good," praised the ethereal, angular lady when Ramon's head was brought to her for verification.
Her coppery eyes flicked to Otis, sending a vibe of unalderated lust through him. Lisa gave them their
pay, which was unbelievable, the two hillbillies had never seen so much money at one time before. Otis
and Angel Baby spent the rest of the day sleeping, having exhausted themselves with the mission and the
fun. The albino was back to his normal high spirits and seemed contented as he usually was after playing
with the rabbits. The girl was in her adopted brother's arms, feeling rather exposed and unsettled--she'd
never been so far among so many different people before and with him she always felt safe.
A few days later, the demonic duo was touring some of the organization's far-flung holdings and watched
a porno movie financed by the Minions being made; both were entranced and wanted in on the action. "Oh
I think you'd be perfect," says one of the actresses to Baby. She looks Baby's figure up and down
thoughtfully, declaring, "We could write her in, right Jamie?" The portly, balding director looks up and
bites his lip, then nods his head. "Hi, I'm Rona," she shakes Otis' and Baby's hands, the pale man's eyes
roaming over her curvy form appreciatively. "You wanna get in on the fuckin', too?," she asks him.

"Ah no--I wanted to have a look at yer cameras. This is some fascinatin' stuff here," he indicates the set
and everything in it.

Rona laughs, tossing her bottle-blonde hair. "The Dick Hedley seal of quality." At the newcomers' quizzical
expressions she explains, "The movie company, we call it Dick Hedley Productions." Baby and Otis burst out
in laughter. "So you're serious? We can get you into the next scene right now." The younger woman shook
her head enthusiastically. Otis got his hands on the equipment and had a great time lighting coochies and
asses to full effect.

"Ok, so is there a script?," Baby asks while putting the Victorian-looking costume. Rona answers yes, but
that she can be the extra girl in the next scene. It was a porno western currently being shot, a typical
whimsical Dick Hedley production. The thirtysomething actress had to step in a few times to give
pointers to the younger lady who was unsure, expecially at first. Soon she was sucking and fucking her
way through the shot like a pro.

"You catch on pretty fast," commented Jamie to Otis as he filmed the sex. "So that's yore sister?"

"Yep," replies the slender ghostlike figure looking through the camera. "She's quite the fox, ain't she? Ain't
a bad actress, either," he guffawed. The director looked at him in dismay, then shook his head. It was too
weird for words.

Pussy Liquor!!
Title: Killin' Time
Author: Sandoz Driftwood
Summary: Sex and violence, need I say more?
Rating: Mature readers only, I'd recommend 17 and up lol
Feedback: desired.
Characters: Baby, Otis, Dr. Satan
Author's notes: This takes place in the early 70's when Angel Baby and Otis strike off on their own, killing
and having adventures.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil's Rejects and am not making any
money off this. This story is hardcore, people, enter at your own risk!

"Let me get this straight," went Baby as her brain tried to work this out. "We're going to Maryland to kill
Lisa's husband? Why the hell would we do that for her? She can't be that good in bed!"

Otis didn't see it as doing the elfin cult leader a favor so much as eliminating a possible rival for Lisa's
favors and tried to explain it to his companion. They'd spent the last several weeks killing targets and
making pornography, along with ranching and tear-assing around the countryside. "All right. Comin out
here was my idea, so we'll go. Maybe I can play with him a while before we do it, heh."

Soloman came to see her while she was packing. His long black hair was greasy as per usual, setting off his
light skin and dark, mysterious eyes. "Have a good trip," he told her. "I'll miss you."

"Aww," drawled Baby, sitting in his lap on her bed. "It'll only be a few days. Otis loves to travel, anyways."

"I think I might miss that creepassed guy, too," he chuckled.

"Hahahaha, he'll kill you when yer back's turned."

"Probably."

"Wow--it's so flat," Baby said, staring out the car window. The sky went down to the water and met it,
blending into a muted background which didn't seem to end. Otis laughed and informed her the northeast
coast was like that in places. When they stopped the car she got out and sniffed the cool sea breeze. Being
summertime it was plenty warm, but not as hot as what she was used to. She put on one of Otis' ratty
flannel shirts as the evening drew on. She fished out the piece of paper with Bobby's address on it and
helped Otis to locate the residence--a mid-size two-storey house, older but well kept, sitting some
distance outside of the suburbs, but they put on their snazzy new silencers anyway. Better safe than
sorry.

They considered how to get in; Lisa's estranged husband may not be living alone. Little did they know
that was the case, and that he was expecting them as well. They were accosted whilst attempting to slip
in an upstairs window--a whole contingent of women brandishing automatic guns. It seems Bobby has a
host of Amazon guards at his call. Both intruders hit the floor rolling, barely evading the rapid fire, and
Otis lost his rifle. It went skittering across the hard floor out of his reach. Cursing he goes for his
handgun--Angel Baby was already returning fire. He finally got a gander at how many: eight tough-
looking broads wielding heavy firepower.
"Fuckballs!," the pasty man growls, putting two bullets in a black woman's head, then scooting along the
ground to get her weapon. Baby nailed another but the hail of lead was too much. The man overturned a
massive wooden table and beckoned Baby to get behind it. Unbelievably quick she dives headfirst behind it
and reloads while the shooting never lets up. The table wouldn't hold out long against the fire being
directed at it. Otis reached in his belt pouch and with a flip of his slender wrist lets fly a smoke bomb the
guardwomen's way. Coughing and swearing could soon be heard which was the demonic duo's cue to rush
them. Baby clobbered a lady in the head and Otis put a few rounds in a woman's formerly pretty face,
ending her looks and her life all at once.

Acute pain ripped through Otis' forearm, he looked down and saw a big hole leaking blood in his arm. He
was too hyped up to feel a lot at the moment and just looked at it for a moment disjointedly. Then red
rage engulfed him and he cracked the skull of his next opponent, drew his knife and plunged it in the neck
of another. Baby sprayed the last one with lead and kicked her corpse for good measure. "Yer bleedin! How
bad is it?," Baby asks, concerned.

"Dunno yet, bullet's still in there I think," he says. The girl rips the bottom of the shirt she was wearing
and ties it around the wound.

"Hey, that's my shirt," he objects. The wildeyed madman's breathing was coming in ragged gasps. The smoke
wasn't helping any either.

"I think your arm is a bit more important, monkeynuts," she shoots back.

"I doubt if that's all the surprise in store for us today," he tells his companion. "Lisa's gonna get it when I
get back.. "

Several bodies entered the room, scanning the carnage with growing alarm. One man's dark eyes finally
rest on the only two standing, a platinum-haired serpent and a dark-haired vixen sporting a big gun.
"What the Jesus.. Lisa sent you, didn't she? That whore!" The man ran his hand through shoulder-length
blond hair irritatedly. He peers through the dissipating smoke and declares, "She sent you two bozos?? She
must be hard-up for help!" He orders his men to kill them.

A crony goes down with a knife in his gut, gurgling and goggle-eyed. Another woman goes down with a
switchblade across the throat courtesy of Baby. Scarlet is splashed liberally all over the well-furnished
room and before long the only one left standing is Bobby, who just glares at them defiantly. "Well, I'm
sure you were paid enough, so go ahead an' do it!," he spits.

"Just for this," Otis says slowly and deliberately, brandishing his bleeding arm. "You ain't gettin' a quick
an' easy death, bitch." Baby and Otis look at one another, and evil, vile little grins spread like scrambled
eggs across their faces.

"Do yer worst," challenges Bobby.

Baby aims her handgun and fires, blowing out his right kneecap. He screams and drops like a sack of
potatoes, blood gushing. Otis then shoots his left thigh, sending him writhing and sobbing in a growing pool
of crimson. He eventually flops on his back, breathing and moaning. "How'd that feel, bitch?," taunts Otis,
stooping over their victim. He brings his rugged face close to the other man's smooth, fair one and hisses,
"Just know that before yer corpse is cold, I'll be fuckin that pretty little wife of yours. Her copper eyes
will be squeezed shut as I'm givin it to her, ridin her like a wild stallion on a mare in heat," he bent
further until his full lips are almost touching Bobby's ear. "I just want you know how I'm gonna fuck her
b'fore I send her to hell to join ya, so ye won't be alone long. But first, yer gonna bleed, pretty boy. Oh yes,
yer gonna bleed.. "

The pair take turns cutting and stabbing him with their blades, but making sure not fatally. The
screaming stops and after a while all Bobby can do is moan and whimper. Otis kicks him in the ass and
cackles, seating himself in a plush chair to catch his breath and watch him bleed. "Hey Otis, some o' these
chicks are still alive," warbles Angel, indicating two guards. "Lemme get that slug outta you before we
play," she tells her foster brother, producing a set of tweezers and a hip flask of whiskey out of her
pocket.

Fifteen minutes and half a bottle of liquor later Baby finished up administering to Otis who was still
swearing and growling, a nice bandage they'd found downstairs on his wounded forearm. They checked on
Bobby, who was still alive but losing a lot of blood.

The two Amazons awoke in the master bedroom of the house, Bobby's bedroom. Tina, the first one, opened
blue eyes and rubbed her aching head. Her movement stirred the other one who sprang up, confused. "You
two just settle down now," admonished a strange-lookng man's gravelly voice. "We got lots o' time to
spend together," he continued menacingly, holding a machine gun on them. A dark-haired woman beside
him giggled, her gun also trained on them. "Now you got one chance to get outta this alive," he tells them.

"Just do everthing we say, and we'll let you go. We done got our target," the woman pipes up.

Allie, the one who'd jumped up, considers whether they should try to fight their way out of the
situation--Tina shakes her head no at her. The two assasins clearly had the upper hand. "Strip," orders the
man. Hestitantly they begin doffing their clothes, dark severe suits that broadcasted they meant
business. Underneath they were strong and muscled, but still very apparently female, rounded breasts
and buttocks bare to the world now. "Ok, you," Otis indicated the brown haired Tina. "Eat her pussy." They
expressed confusion, first looking at each other then at their captor. "Eat her pussy, dammit! Eat it like
it's Gramma's homemade cherry pie! You wanna live or what?!"

Allie awkwardly lays down on the bed, cheeks reddening, and Tina kneels in the floor and puts her face
between her fellow guard's legs. Slowly she begins licking, burning shame filling her whole body. "Do it
like ya mean it!," cheers Baby, nostrils flaring with excitement.

"Squeeze her tits, bitch, come on!," calls Otis, cocking the gun. Tina, still lapping and whimpering, reaches up
to fondle Allie's full breast. She lay there and stared up at the ceiling while the other woman's tongue
probed her, eyes welling up with tears. Would she get out of this? What kinda sick shit will she be forced
to do? "Spread yore legs," he tells Tina, who complies. "There we go.. now put yer fingers in her.. yeah, make
her wet." To her horror, she finds she really is getting wet, her body automatically responding to what
was being done to it. Otis whoops and Baby giggles, pleased with their fun. Then he commands Tina to put
her whole fist in Allie and she refuses. "You would-be Amazon slut!," cries Otis, backhanding the lady,
sending her to the floor. He was close enough for Allie to kick him which she does with all her might,
bruising his ribs. He unloads the gun into her body at point-blank range, ripping her to shreds. The other
guard had rushed Baby, blacking her eye and struggling over the gun with her. Baby finally shoves her
away and Otis clocks her in the head.

He undoes his pouches and belt, then unbuttons his pants. Baby watches while Otis penetrates the
unconscious girl until she gets so hot and bothered, she goes to see if there are any men left alive. Sadly,
there weren't. She'd just have to tell Otis not to kill the girl until she pleasured her. Otis' grunts and
moans drifted from across the hall, followed by squeals--it seems the female had come to. When Otis got
off Baby re-entered the room, held a gun to the abused guard's head and says, "Now you get to eat my
pussy," she steps out of her jeans and removes her shirt.

The slender monster wanders downstairs to find something to eat, discovers some Jiffy-pop, and within a
few minutes was back upstairs eating popcorn and observing Bobby struggle for life. Shouts and screams
could be discerned from Bobby's bedroom as Baby enthusiatically fucks and tortures the poor remaining
guardwoman.

*blam* The unfortunate woman's suffering and humiliation was now over. Bobby was choking on his own
blood and bile by now, but still hanging on to life. Baby struts naked into the room, spattered with blood
and fluid and sporting the shiner that Tina had given her, languid contentment on her features. "He still
alive?"

"Yep. Want some popcorn?"

"Yeah!," she runs over and grabs a handful.

Complacency..too much of a good thing?

"Man that guard bitch had one hell of a right hook," jests Otis, meaning Angel's bruised eye. She slaps him
playfully, munching on popcorn. "Ow," he goes, his whole side was sore from the other broad kicking him. A
pitiful gurgling sound floated up from the floor, it seems dear Bobby was on his last leg, so to speak.
Then.. .it was over. Mission accomplished.

Opening up the garage door, a new shiny white 1971 Pontiac LeMans greeted them. Otis grinned and Baby
groaned. She knew he wouldn't be able to resist. Turning on the radio as they cruised Led Zeppelin's
Immigrant Song blasted out of the car's speakers.

"Ahhhh, Ah! Ahhhh, Ah!

We come from the land of the ice and snow
And the midnight sun where the hot springs blow
The Hammer of the Gods
Will drive our ships to new lands
To fight the hordes, singin and cryin
VALHALLA I AM COMING!

On we sweep with, threshing oar

Our only goal will be the Western Shore"

"Ahhhh, ah! Ahhhhh, ah!," Angel Baby screams along. Otis shakes his head at her. He was more of a Black
Sabbath man, himself.

Angel Bee, Baby was known as in the porn movies she starred in, and whe was becoming rather popular.
Rona was proud of her protege and Otis learned all about the cameras and equipment. He also spent time
with Quayle, a former surgeon and psychopath. Otis was all to happy to find someone freakier looking
than himself.

One day in the underground headquarters the Professor sought out Otis in his chamber, his tall, imposing
stature filling the room. "Whut can I do for ya, Earl?," Otis asks him. For reasons known only to the lean
madman he'd taken to calling the cult leader 'Earl' who took it with good-natured aplomb.

"I just wanted to have chat with you 'bout your sister.. Soloman wanted to know how Angel might feel
about marrying him and staying here permanently. And you too, of course; your talents are useful and
much appreciated."

"Well now," said Otis, his facial expression going neutral. "Guess you'll just have to talk ta Angel about
that. Was her wantin' the adventure anyways. And yew know I ain't into all that Satan rhetoric."

The Professor nods his acceptance. "You have some interestin' ideas of your own, Cheever. But anyway,
we're having a gathering of the Minions tonight, Soloman and Quayle got an assload of 'shrooms so it's
gonna be a doozy."

"Wouldn't miss it," says Otis, eyes narrowing at the Professor's back as he leaves. "See ya, Earl."

Knocking could be heard on the door again. "Come in," calls Otis, and Lisa lets herself in, a twinkle in her
eyes. She drops her dress revealing she was nude underneath and smiles at him wickedly. Heh, I've been
too complacent the last little while, he thinks as she slinks toward the bed. They proceed to have hot,
steamy sex, and when they're done and she's basking in the afterglow Otis glances over at her, observing
her long smooth neck. He slips fist one hand then the other around her white throat and squeezes all at
once. Her coppery eyes bug open, focusing on her lover's face bent on her destruction. She didn't even have
time to cry out, tries to scream but only strangled moans come out. She never expected to die like this!
Feebly her hands beat at his head and shoulders to no avail, then she decides to try something else as her
air is completely shut off. She'd have to time this just right in order to pull this off. She flailed about a
little bit more then rolled her eyes to the back of her head then lay still. Oh please, she thought, please
I'm gonna die..

He released her throat satisfied she was dead, laying back a moment on his back. He didn't see her chest
rise up in a few deep breaths, and when he looked back over she was lying so still and peaceful, her
delicate features so perfect in her eternal repose. He kisses the full lips and whispers, "Sorry, lil darlin,
but you know too much about me. Yer a bit too smart fer yer own good, heh. And I've grown too lax." God,
she was so beautiful, he'd have to come back and fuck her after the party. He dresses and departs, only
after the door is shut does Lisa bolt up, tears falling down her cheeks at the betrayal.

The main hall was full of carousing satanists, eating their fill of food and meadow mushrooms. Otis was in
a dark corner by himself where he could observe everyone else--his constant mistrust had saved his skin
on more than one occasion and even while tripping like a motherfucker he was always aware. Sounds
carried forward and back like coming out of a tunnel and he was elated, pupils dilated in his faded eyes.
He enjoyed being with depraved individuals like himself but it wasn't like family, wasn't the same.. as the
night wore on people in groups of two or more retired to chambers or corners to engage in more intimate
sport. Baby had been entertaining Soloman with her dancing (she was quite good at it) and now came
staggering to Otis, wine bottle in hand.

"Heya doodyhead! Where's Lisa?"

To Otis it seemed to take forever to answer and his mouth felt full of cotton. "Guess she had better things
to do. Come sit down, light awhile! Hahaha," Angel complied, taking another swig of wine.

"Otis, are yew sulkin? Why dontya cozy up with one o' these other chicks? Hell, I just might," she giggles.

"Naw, I'm fine where I'm at, Angel." He takes the bottle from her and takes a pull.

The girl was filled with overwhelming concern for her adored companion and lays her tousled head on
his arm. She raises her head after a few moments to gaze at Otis' craggy face and wished she could express
how attractive and awesome she thought he was. She surprised them both by putting her lips to his.
After a moment he pushed her away, grumbling, "No, Baby. Don't."

She looked at him, hurt welling up in her blue-green eyes. What did she do wrong? Even though she
thought of him as a big brother, they really weren't related. "But, I thought--"

"I love you too much, don't ya see?" He left unsaid the fact that if anything sexual ever come between
them, he'd kill her, and he didn't want that. Sex, violence and death were so intertwined in his twisted
psyche that he looked at most women as meat, things to be used and discarded. And Angel Baby was
better than that. "Cutter would kill my ass for messin' with you, besides."

"Pa wouldn't dare," she huffed.

"I know yer tryin to help," Otis told her. "But it's ok." His head was reeling; he felt ten thousand miles
away. He was definately tripping out.

"I miss Ma and Pa," Baby declared wistfully. "And my brothers and Grampa."

"Go on and have fun," he encourages her, and she goes back to Soloman. They needed to be leaving soon,
they were growing fat and lazy, and they were their own masters, not these cultists.

All's Well that ends Hell

Soloman herded Baby down the hallway shouting the whole way, "Bitch! You some kinda inbred slut? Or
maybe that asshole ain't yore brother!" His dark grey eyes were livid.

"What the hell are you talking about?," she spits at him, trying to get loose from his grip.

"I've seen how familiar you two are with each other, then I saw you go up and kiss him. What the fuck is
goin on?"

"None o' your business!"

He slams her against the wall, banging her head and losing her breath for a couple of seconds. "So you're
just gonna run off with that freak, livin' a menial existance, whoring yourself out to make ends meet." He
backhanded her.

"You just made the biggest mistake of yer life, Soloman," Baby says between clenched teeth, and buries a
buttefly knife handle-deep into the man's chest. His eyes go wide, but instead of falling over he pulls a
knife of his own and sticks her with it, the small blade going in her right shoulder. He attempted to pull
it out to attack her again when a silver flash whipped around his neck, and a massive gash opened up a
river of blood from his neck. He finally collapsed, revealing Otis standing behind him with his butcher
knife. "Motherfucker," he hisses.
The girl pulls the weapon out of her body, grateful to her foster brother and to the fact nothing vital
had been hit. "Guess it's time to go," she says shakily.

Otis rushed to his chamber to pack his few posessions and was presented with a startling sight--his 'dead'
love interest holding a loaded shotgun at him. "In a hurry?," Lisa purred, her slender hands white-
knuckled with rage.

"I thought I killed you, bitch," he snaps back, eyes looking for an opening.

"Yes, you did, you stupid redneck. I'm smarter 'n you, though that's not saying a lot. I think I'll
reciprocate!" Her finger begins squeezing the trigger.

"Otis! Otis, we gotta go NOW!," comes Baby's voice as she bursts in the room. Blood soaked the front of her
halter top from a large cut in her chest and her face was frantic.

"What the hell?!," swears Lisa, starting at the intrusion. It was just the diversion the pale snake needed;
darting forward he snatches the 12-guage from the woman and bashing her head with it. He points it at
her petite form, but Angel Baby was frantic and urging them to hurry up, that the Professor already
knew and was really pissed off at them.

The next day, Otis stood at the sink of a seedy hotel staring at his reflection, for once somewhat satisfied
with what he saw. Baby let herself in the dingy room with the room key carrying a bag of hair dye. She
intended to dye her locks back to their normal blonde color. She was brought up short when Otis turned
to her, grinning. "Otis--yore hair!"

He'd cut all his long fair hair off. The lank strands were currently laying haphazardly in the old sink. He
looked odd to the girl, his hair shorn close to his skull. "Nobody'll recognize either of us," he explains,
putting on a trucker hat which read 'Shit Happens.' "Awww, it'll grow back out."

Instinctively she runs up and rubs his head, the stubbly hair tickling her hand, and giggles. "Ma an' Pa
won't know who we are!"

A dusty 1971 Pontiac LeMans winds it's way up Cherrypicker Lane in Ruggsville County, Texas, a pasty
short-haired man driving and a 21-year-old willowy blonde in the passenger seat. It was nearing
Halloween; the pair had been away from home for several months now. When they entered the yard
through the gate and pulled into the driveway a blonde, older woman came running down the steps. She
was wearing slinky neglige and platform pumps which she maneuvered easily through the grass and
gravel with familiarity. "Vera-Ellen! Oh, my Angel Baby, yer home!," she smothered her daughter with
hugs and kisses. "Did ya get that silliness outta yer system?" Baby answered yes. "I missed you sooo much!"
"I missed you too, Mama," the girl warbles.

"Otis! Lookit you, did a lawnmower get ahold o' yer head?," she gathered him into a substantial embrace,
squeezing him against her ample bosom.

"Where's Pa?," wonders Angel.

"Oh, he's down at that stupid place he bought tryin to make some kinda screwy museum out of it," she
scoffs, rubbing Otis' head. She couldn't resist. "You'll have to tell everthing you got into, I bet it was fun,
huh? Come on inside, I got some iced tea ready."
Mouth Bitch's Jaws of Mercy
Chapter One: Fresh Meat

Charlie had been running for what seemed like hours from the unthinkable horrors he believed
still stalked him. He was in the heart of the Titty Twister now, what felt like miles from where the
monsters first spawned. Vampires. Monstrous, soul-less, blood-sucking demons masquerading as sexually
attractive woman, young and maturing, clothed and nude. All very fond of their patrons. Now he knew
why. He remember one made eyes at him not long after he arrived. It was a fleeting glance. He surveyed
the rowdy scenes before him and a slim sultry-eyed vixen met eyes with him. She was alone carrying a
drink from the bar to a table, she stared back at him as was leaving afterward and winked over at him
and gave curled her red, full lips into a sultry smile. He took notice of her. He was at a small birthday
celebration for a friend he in truth didn't really know that well and was unavailable so how couldn't he?
He smiled back and she grinned slightly with an eagerness he couldn't comprehend but he was taken
nevertheless.

In the long run it was good they didn't have a chance to meet. She would have probably
devoured him. He would put it past her. When the jig was up it was a savage frenzy of blood and guts.
Literally. One petite girl tore a man's liver out with razor sharped talons and chugged it like a beer
before tossing it aside and chomping on his neck with a sickening crunch ending his life with a chilling
gurgle from the man's blood-drenched throat. Another monstrous abomination had him pinned to his seat
still enjoying the party apparently and kissed full on the lips as the reveal slowly came to fruition. Her
face contorted and sprouted with pimples and grease and her brow bulged outward and her nose receded
and inflated. As treated her companion to her luscious lips they stretched and flayed unnaturally
turning sickly purple with tiny ulcers and zits populating the bulging parts, while her perfect white
teeth turned a vile yellow and became sharp, deadly fangs with a vicious under bite that nearly pierced
the man's roof. Her final look was that of a fat, demonic, nude, pinkish boar but the man didn't notice till
she had finished. She broke away and cradled his head as the shock, disgust and pure terror dawned on his
face. Her drool-laced jaws grinned evilly and her thick, bulging tongue moistened her cracked lips and
dove back in before he could react and forced it down his throat. He choked and gagged repulsively
fighting against some awful taste in his mouth. This time when she pulled away she ripped his tongue
with her teeth causing blood to gush out like a morbid human tap. She guzzled at it hungrily as it splashed
down her tits turning them crimson. She ate like a pig too. Messily. Yet some of her former amorous
human traits were still present. She cuddled her victim affectionately as she fed, toying with him
sadistically as he slowly began to die, massaging her moist jugs in full view and even trying to get him to
suck on one of them. Eventually she settled for forcing a limp hand to fondle one while she suckled
sweetly on his bloody mouth. He couldn't watch anymore. The action so repulsive he felt like he was
about to puke. He felt sick. Sick with the depravity, sick with fear, sickened by the smell. At that moment
he was called to flee with the few ones smart enough to do so to the storage room nearby covered by the
chaos they slipped away unnoticed.

Not before long he and his friends- the survivors at least realized that they were sitting ducks
and the search went on for another way out. They eventually found one hidden behind some stolen
trucker cargo. It led upstairs to a dark sanctum of sorts with a corridors and corridors of empty halls
with veiled curtains. There were no lights so they used some flashlights they'd discovered while looking
for weapons should worst come to worst- which was more than likely. With a few moments respite they
retreated into the den looking for a plausible exit. The curtains doors were endless. They dared not enter
for fear of being trapped like rats in some elaborate cage. Their terrified whispers echoed throughout the
hallways despite efforts to stifle them and eventually beastly, unearthly roars and snarls echoed behind
him. The jig was up. The vamps were coming.

In an instant they were all running, bumping into one another in their desperation to escape the
unimaginable horrors behind. Quickly they reached junctions, unintentionally splitting up into various
smaller groups until finally Charlie was all alone. He considering turning back but the blood-curdling
screams of pain and terror made him press onward.

He eventually had to stop. He literally didn't have the strength to run anymore. He was tired. It
was about 10 o'clock now. It was hours before down and all his spent energy running was beginning to take
it's toll. But he wasn't ready to quit. He didn't want to die. The fear was taking it's toll too. The fear kept
him alive but it almost rooted him to the spot too. The memories of the massacre behind him came
flooding back. The spilling blood, the severed limbs, the terrible screams, those horrible, horrible faces.
Like it or not he was trapped and he in the jaws of Hell. The noise behind began to subside. Oddly he felt...
kind of safe in the silence. Charlie began to figure if he kept quiet their chance of locating him might be
lessened. But these were seasoned predators. Homicidal, quite literally blood-thirsty monsters wearing
masks of beauty. Sirens. Vamps in the epitome of the word. His brief pausing gave him some of his breath
back. But his slight levity died quickly. His flashlight was flickering, it was losing power.

"So soon?!" he indignantly pondered. "What the fuck am I gonna do now?"

As his light dimmed another one gently shone in the darkness.

What.. ?

The ominous light in the pitch blackness seemed to respond to his thoughts. It was pure white
like the lights the survivors carried. It was a warm amber that flickered in the distance. A fireplace,
perhaps? It wasn't bright enough to be raging but merely.. calm and inviting.

Inviting. Of course it is. A nice little trap for him. But it might be one he'd have trigger
regardless. For all he knows it could be one of them. His friends. He knew one such member of the gang
that would be stupid enough to lit a beacon for all to see.
 But the eerie silence disturbed him. Why hadn't anyone or anything for that matter found him?

He didn't like this. Not one bit.

But there was something oddly compelling about it. Something.. kind of alluring. He couldn't
really describe it. But what could be waiting for him stopped him from moving. Though. Surely it wouldn't
hurt to take a glance at least. For the time being he had as much to gain as he had to lose. He started to
move.
Slowly he began to advance on the glowing light. It twinkled like fairy-dust yet pulsated like
magma. He couldn't really help himself, the closer he got the quickly his pace became. Like it was calling
to him. He got a lump in throat as he drew near to the source.
It was one of the curtain-veiled rooms. It was a sole gleam of hope in his claustrophobic, bloody
nightmare. The fabric swayed in a gentle breeze. It was almost seductive. Did this place have a brothel?
Not that he noted when reading the signs when he first entered the Titty Twister. Maybe it was from a
previous life.. He could count the dusty cobwebs dancing with the curtain. This thing was old. Very old.
But it was his only hope.
Cautiously he drew back the curtain and peered inside.
Despite the age it looked very sensual. A kind of historical love nest of sorts. Charlie couldn't
help but smile a little. These vampires knew exactly what kind of game they were in.
He could feel a chill riding up his spine and he instinctively entered the room fearing to be
spotted out in the open. He shut the curtains and fully stepped inside. The heat from a nearby brazier, the
source of the light warmed him immensely. The danger of the vampires had left him shaken and very
scared. Charlie was not a brave man. Far from it. He dared not fight his hunters. He was not very strong
despite his average physique. Perhaps that girl took an interest in him was weak too and saw him as fresh
meat. It was entirely possible. But nevertheless for all the shit the night had thrown at him, it felt nice
to be reminded of something good again.
He felt a tickle in his neck. Like a cobweb. He reached up his right hand to brush it away and
immediately regretted it. In his maneuver he'd disturbed some object embedded in his neck and it made
him grunt in surprisingly intense pain. Scanning the room he could see a small bedroom mirror on a desk
at the side with an accompanying desk and chair. Relieved slightly he made for it and sat down at the
chair. Dusting off the mirror he looked at the strange antibody penetrating him. It looked like.. a dart.
He'd been shot with tiny dart! How did this happen? When? Grasping at it he could only remove a few
small feathers on the tail. The rest was embedded to far for him get a grip on and every time he tried to
grasp it the pain got excruciating.
He wracked his brain whilst enduring the now-itchy pain. He didn't remember being shot directly
and then ironically something hit him. While fleeing the vampires a second time when turned a corner
and left his peers behind he remembers feeling a sudden sharp pain in his calf as he scrambled for safety.
He'd assumed it was the way he landed on it but maybe he'd triggered some kind of ancient trap. Exactly
how old was this place?! Considering how old vampires were in legend he wouldn't been surprised if they
came from pre-civilization. He didn't know much about Mexico's ancient history. Nothing in fact. But the
more he pondered on it the more his neck seemed to ache.
Bending over from the chair he reached for the calf he felt pain in to see if he was wounded
there. Reaching the calf the pain in his neck suddenly spiked to an unbearable peak.
 There was nothing there but the damage was done. That was what he had felt. The impact of his
neck wound spasmed in his calf. The pain was now so much he couldn't sit back in his seat. He tried to
stand with every ounce of will he had left but his legs gave in almost immediately the dart's sinister
venom sapping his strength to the point he instead tumbled to the silken sheet laden floor below.
He fell on to his knees hard but the soft fabrics cushioned him significantly. The pain was no less
painful there but the gentle almost loving touch dulled it slightly. As though influenced by some
benevolent force the pain begin to die and his strength slowly returned to him piece by piece. Regaining
some of his conscience back he glanced at the floor he was kneeling on. It looked so luxurious. Like a plush
duvet.
God how he wish were home. Safe. Free from this nightmare. All the sexual favors in the world
weren't worth this! Heh. Sexual favors were a lie in this place. The Titty Twister was surely the greatest
dining establishment in the world for a vampire. Men coming in every night to the waiting jaws of
hungry beasts of every shape. He was in such deep shit. His thought returned to the floor. He ran his hand
through curiously. He gently exclaimed to himself. It felt as good as it looked. His hands were sweating
perpetually. The heat from the brazier was mounting considerably. He had to move away. It was getting
too hot for him and the last thing he needs is a handicap if he was to be chased by another vampire.
With slight difficulty he got to his feet. He looked around the room. Charlie was still very much
alone. Good. He lifted his foot to step away from the melting heat.
But he couldn't. Something had caught foot. It was the silk. The folds of the "duvet" coiled and
folded everywhere looked and his ankle was snared. Peeved he bent down in effort free himself. No such
luck. It was letting up. He readjusted his stance but it would only let him shimmy slightly and he nearly
fell over. He looked over at the bed nearby and tried to reach over to it when a large chunky hand closed
over his free ankle.
He felt it instantly and jumped in sudden shock. Another hand grasped his other ankle and both
gripped him tightly. In a swift movement the hands pulled forward sending him falling backwards to the
floor. The shock of the maneuver hurt slightly but the terrible fear overtook him. He was being pulled
towards the very middle of the nest by his phantom captor. As he was dragged his body grew heavier as
he snared in a similar fashion to the ankle, this time- everywhere! Suddenly he stopped and he felt
movement beneath the covers. Something large. The hands parted his legs in anticipation. He tried
struggling but that only made it tighten it's grip on him and the fabric clog so he had to settle for trying
to get a better look at his assailant. As if to answer his inadvertent prayer something began to rise up
from beneath.
From the hand came a pair of flabby yet strong looking, then came a head. The man had a lump in
his throat with panic and it's balding scalp came into focus. Long hair hung down from the creature, a
pair of large brown eyes backed by a moldy yellow sclera. The eyes were accompanied by deathly,
skeletal brow that seemed to be encapsulated with wrinkling. Wrinkling down the forehead, round the
eyes, correlating at the squashed, scrunched up nose like some kind of human bat. This thing was old but
still had parts of "vibrancy" to her face, holding the vile structure together. The head had a pair of small
floppy pointed ears that complimented the creature's facial features nicely, there were no real
disgusting fallacies to them but they were clearly belonging to something not of the earth. Suddenly the
maw was visible. A sickening array of symmetrical sharp, pointed fangs aligned a set of protruding
surprisingly healthy gum. There were no gaps in the beast's mouth anywhere. Every hooked, straight and
needled fang was present making the teeth the equivalent of a living jawed man-trap. The teeth was
stained yellow with years of use and glistened menacingly in the firelight. It was definitely a vampire.
It was a trap and he'd triggered it. The vamp's stretched lips curled into an evil smile taking in the
victim's trauma.
Suddenly she winked at him. Mind games weren't unexpected by now but something clicked with
him. "Where have I seen that before.. ?" he nervously questioned before. The vampire took notice of his
inquisitive stare. She batted her eyelids suggestively at him and he began to see. His mouth began to
choke with fear and a dawning realization.
"Y- Y- You!!" Charlie gasped with fear and pain. It was the girl he had a moment with before. Who
shown interest in him and he in her. Little did he know it would amount to this. This.. snaring trap. The
vamp's sickly grin grew wider confirming his fears and sealing his fate. She'd planned for this, her dark
scheme was for him. He'd thought himself extraordinarily lucky due to being unspoiled in the main area
and not being savaged in the darkness while his companions screamed bloody murder. He'd been
"reserved", taken. And now he lay in waiting for her. Her selected fresh meat. A special succulent meal
just for her.
And she looked hungry.

Chap2: Playing with her Food

Chapter Two: Playing with her Food

Charlie was rooted, bound to the floor. He couldn't move. Not even an inch. He wanted to
struggle. He wanted to fight. He wanted to scream. But the fear locked out his brain. All he could do was
stare at the monstrous vamp bitch before him as she grinned knowingly and sadistically at him.

Slowly she began to clamber out from her impossible hidey-hole revealing the rest of her bit by
bit. She had a bloated, stocky frame much larger than himself. The firelight caught every infected part of
her, highlighting her rotund figure's many crinkles and abundant flab. Her shoulders were the only
mostly unspoiled part of her main body, ruffled with only a few boils and blemishes compared to the rest
but her skin was riddled with wrinkles that it resembled the flesh of a partially rotten fruit with many
gaseous bulges and folds giving it irregular appearance. Regardless they still gave an imposing sense of
deceptive strength, not unlike in her chunky fat arms.

For every gross anomaly in her physique the rest of her adapted likewise giving her obese bodily
mass that dwarfed the average male in every respect. The vampire crawled forward towards the
vulnerable Charlie, languidly coiling her adipose legs around his own. The gentle action cushioned him
with her own organic bodily heat, tickling his nerves as they rummaged about to get comfortable, her
undeniably hefty weight sandwiching him to the floor. Her bulging, gluttonous stomach gurgled and
churned with questionable contents as she rested it on his own. Perhaps she had already eaten.. ? Wishful
thinking for sure. She was so tightly compressed against he could feel her pimples poke into his shirt,
stimulating the skin beneath. He could feel something gently tickle him round the crotch area that made
him let out a weak gasp. Her beastly features glistened with grease secreting from her every pore,
highlighting and enhancing the vileness of her face to him as she drew closer. Her stark naked breasts
bobbed and swayed with anticipation as she eagerly leaned inward.

Charlie was fond of those particulars of the female form but the current situation repulsed him.
He stared momentarily transfixed by them as they descended onto his chest. While her hair was receding
it was far from gone, falling down her chest, curtaining her bosoms with an almost loving grace. It was a
remarkable length to be sure but it didn't offer him any comfort. The vamp's tits showed the results of
years of progressive sagging before finally resting on her bulging gut. They were in fairly decent
condition considering what kind of creature what in possession of them and save for a few bloody rashes
and minor zits they looked quite good. Her depraved descent into death and decay had treated fairly
them well. The only thing that took away from any possible 'attraction' was the prominent drooping
inflicted in her chest area starting there visible point of origin much higher up her body with a
definitive split where the gap between each breast began before they sunk to their current location, with
a broader divide than originally. The skin had stretched to such an extremity the ligaments that once
supported them became visible, causing ripples and protruding vein-like folds in the skin. The years of
vamping out in the nude had taken their toll on true form, but she hardly seemed to care. Vampires could
erode and deteriorate with little consequence, living forever they'd feel little or no pain so trivial
human issues of pain and weakness warranted no concern of theirs. If anything she enjoyed the
psychological impact they'd have on her victims. And Charlie was no different.

His trance was broken by the sudden shadow cast over him by the vamp bitch. Her yellow teeth
drew nearer, glinting invitingly with deadly sharpness and terrible hunger. Her sickly gaze surveyed him
with almost lustful desire. She craved his blood for sure but he could see something else twinkle in her
eyes. She wanted him but given his predicament he didn't know for certain it was all she truly wanted
from him. Those mad, demonic eyes had a mockingly human vein to them. They gave him such morbid
curiosity. Her heavy lids lowered with gentle grace. A sort of indescribable, sensual aura exuded from
the vamp. He was at her mercy. Suddenly, her left hand came up from the side and gently stroked the
side of his face. He suddenly felt very warm inside. Uncomfortably so. The reality of her immense weight
on him hit home and he felt such an intense pressure he begun to struggle to breath.

"N- uh!" he gasped. At once his body began to cook in the combined heat of the nearby flames and
the affectionate bodylock he was trapped in. An icy chill tingled throughout him originating from the
vulnerable surface of his skin. He'd been sweating for the past few minutes and he was so "pre-occupied"
he hadn't even noticed. The reality of his peril made Charlie felt very queasy in the pit of his stomach, so
much so he was getting ready to retch. He was panicking. The danger at hand was making sick with fear.
The vamp bitch's talon-like claws caressed his face lovingly, taking a certain glee in his terror and held
him in place. She gently and seductively swayed and danced lowering herself down to his level, opening
and closing her mouth with sensuous abandon. As she sank on top of him her shaggy hair fell to his chest
like vines of ivy, piling into bunches as she drew closer. He could feel her bulbous tits press against him,
her erect nipples and pimples brushing against his shirt. The vamp rubbed her body against his, teasing
him.

"Hah!" he choked. While his eyes had movement to survey the monster's twisted action his head
was locked in place by his captor. He looked up. He dared not make a sound when their eyes met for fear
he'd influence her next move in some way, to give ideas. The carnivourus jaws drew closer, coated with a
foul concoction of plaque and tartar that bulged out of every gap he could see her humid sticky lips
twitch with excitement. Her other hand trailed up his arm to join them. Charlie shivered in his paralysis
as her clawed palm relaxed softly on his shoulder. The vamp's gruesome smile tightened as she reached
his face, a sickening stench of death reeked from her hot breath. Charlie was reaching his limit. His body
was in such pain, his pores wept with clammy sweat and his heart was beating with such force it pulsated
making his whole being tremor. The arrow's venom was taking hold, he felt was slipping into
unconsciousness. The pressure on him was mounting and he felt like he was going to explode. The vampire
stared down her meal with a kind of devious curiosty and then slowly tilted her head and dipped
languidly down the last few inches to meet her plaything.

"NO-!"
 In a fit of sudden, wild desperation Charlie managed to break out of his binds and feebly began to
push her away. The vamp was taken aback by his sudden courage. It was something she wasn't used to as
most went the way he was before. He wrestled with her seemingly in vain, despite her appearance she
was very strong. Definitely stronger than him at least. Though initially surprised she was taking his
rejection of her rather well. It quickly became a game to her, a playful struggle between man and beast.
She snapped her massive jaws at him as he tried force her off him, making feinting lunges with each bite.
Playful or not, her actions kept on her victim on edge as if he wasn't already so. With mad determination
he grabbed her throat to keep her away from him. He was succeeding with great difficulty. She was a
powerful vampire and she had the advantage on all counts. Despite being grappled with in such a way she
still had him pinned. She was snarling with menace and soon she won out, forcing him downward and
despite his brave efforts Charlie was slowly losing his grip on her as she reaffirmed hers.

He tried forcing them both to roll to the side. Amazingly it worked. The pair locked in conflict
unsteadily rolled over, resulting in Charlie being on top with the vamp on the bottom. Flumping back on
the silken cloth she stared up viciously up at him. Her smirk finally faltered and her face contorted into
a nasty scowl. This wasn't what she'd planned for him. But no matter. She knew something he didn't.

Taking what little advantage he scavenged Charlie broke free and crawled off the fat vamp as
quickly as his body would let him. He wasn't a fighter, even if he knew how to wield even a single weapon
like a pro he didn't fancy his chances with this thing- not after the gruelling challenge he'd barely
overcame. As he scampered off to the side of her falling between her and the nearby bed he suddenly
heard a horrible growling noise that echoed from deep within her stomach. She was laughing at him. She
cackled at his futile desperation. At his fear. As Charlie got to his feet and moved away from her she
swung a hefty arm out to catch his leg. Her massive hand caught him by the foot nearly causing him to
fall over. Grasping his shoe tightly she rolled onto her front and began to tug at him with both hands.
With a few limp kicks Charlie managed to wriggle free, removing his foot from the vampire's grip but
losing his shoe in the process. Hobbling out of the "nest" he chanced a glance back at the vamp. She laid
there quite comfortably, like a lioness that had cornered her prey. She displayed his shoe proudly in her
hand like a dinky trophy but nevertheless she seemed very pleased with it in her possession. She tilted
her head round to the side slightly, smiling with as much allure as a creature such as she could muster.
Her heavy lids lowered to an extent that combined with her wrinkled, angry brow gave a very devious,
flirty demeanor to her. The vamp bitch made sure her sagged breasts rested on display for him as beastly
incentives for him to return to her.

Reviled, Charlie turned away, determined to escape her in anyway he could. He headed for the
door, hindered a little bit by his lost shoe but he wasn't about to go back and fight for it. He quickly
reached the curtain, his back facing the left-most corner of the nearby bed. In hindsight it was good that
he was hindered by a missing shoe for if he was running at full pelt there was a good chance he would
have knocked himself on what lay behind.

Bars. Metal bars. The thing had a gate! It had dropped down from above and was now embed in
the floor. As Charlie surveyed in pure shock the vampire's cackling returned in full force like a demon
snarling, amused by his predicament and the hopeless chance he now had. Charlie rattled and heaved on
the bars in a vain effort to escape but it really was hopeless, the thing was rusted and locked tight. He
was trapped in there with her.
 Slowly, Charlie looked round to face her. As he did so she was getting to her feet. She was a
mountainous creature. About a head taller than him, maybe slightly less. Save for the teeth and claws
there was no solid part to her. Everything about her looked mallable and soft in some way. Meaty. From
her face to her breasts and especially her legs. She had meat to her. She wasn't what he'd thought undead
creatures would look like. No rotting flesh (of what he could see), no bony limbs. This thing was living and
breathing despite every biological perversion present in her. If there was anything nice to say about her
he would say she was "curvy". Mostly because the fatty muscle never seemed to stop. Her stomach was
bulging so much it looked as though it might explode if enough pressure were applied. Charlie nervously
looked southward beneath it. Her gut while gluttonous still kept her form and connected quite readily to
her lower half. Where her... privates would be there was a beard's worth of dirty pubic hair that hung
like fur between her legs. The slightest thought of what lay behind it made his stomach turn. As though
taunting him she reached her free hand down and scratched at something on her crotch. Everybody
needed to do that sometimes but Charlie sensed there was an ulterior motive that she must've had for
the action. Where the crotch met the inner leg she had numerous bloody red holes that marked her skin
her infected orange skin. It took him a second register what they were in his head. They were flea bites.
The implicative thoughts turned his stomach inside out. Taking a moment to rub her crotch lovingly the
vamp bitch began to advance on him.

Charlie snapped back to reality a little later than he would've liked. She was advancing to his
right side so he began to hobble to his left. Staring each other down they circled one another. He didn't
like the way she kept smiling at him. If she wanted to eat him she'd have done it by now. There was a
reason she'd lured him here, why she'd trapped him with her. And like it or not he was going to find it
out very soon. Keeping the pressure on him she was guiding him back to the silken sheets next to the
brazier once more. When his sock touched them he slipped almost instantly, like a deer on an frozen lake.
He desperately tried to keep his balance but with only one shoe it was impossible. She tried to catch him
as he fell but no such luck. For her at least. He tumbled onto his back, staring up at the vamp. Almost
symbolically she cast aside her stolen prize and beared down at her prey, her weighted tits swaying
slightly with each hefty step. The firelight caught each of her hideous features in all their glory. Every
curve and groove on her seemed to be shining in some way. Charlie was sweating a bit, perhaps she was
feeling the heat too. Lightly fondling the stretched skin above her right breast, poking into the groove
between them both. She stood over his legs, spreading her own apart to properly "mount" him. In a weak
effort to escape Charlie edged backwards and turned onto his front to try and crawl away from her. He
barely moved a few centimetres when a clawed hand grabbed by the leg halting him dead in his tracks.

He wasn't going anywhere.

Chap3: Descent into Desire

Chapter Three: Descent into Desire

In a swift movement the Mouth Bitch grabbed Charlie by his other leg and flipped him over on to
his back to face her maintaining her hold on him at all time. She hunched over by his feet, crouching in
anticipation. With her strong arms she dragged him under her open legs as far she could sank onto his
lap. As Charlie was reeled into her clutches once more his left hand trailing across the sheet caught
something unexpected that made him jump a little. The hand inadvertently carried the foreign object
with him as it quickly became caught on him. It was sharp and brittle to the touch and cut into him as he
was drawn back. He instinctively looked to the source of his discomfort. It was skeletal remains of a
torso, devoured and encrusted with dried blood, old to the point of becoming a rotting husk. A past
unfortunate victim of the vampires. He weakly cried out as the splintered ribs scraped across palm
ripping his flesh painfully as it was hampered by the clogging fabric. The vampire's crippling weight held
him in position as she crawled onto his body, prowling lavishly across his chest like lion with the quiet,
freezing malice of a poisonous snake. Reaching his head she slinked onto her left side, depositing herself
snuggly between the man's right arm and torso. She put an arm around his neck and stared at her victim's
eyes, lids half-closed with an almost loving tenacity. Her revolting teeth glistened a nauseating golden
orange in the intense firelight, she found her smile once again.

Charlie was terrified but he was too scared to react. What little courage he had died, trapped
alone on the other side of the cold, iron bars that sealed his fate. He could barely breathe. His body was
numb with paralyzing fear and he had such a lump in throat. She pressed her invasively warm torso
against his side, fidgeting erraticly, burying herself into his chest in effort to get close and cosy. Her
messy, thin strands of hair trailed gently across his slowly-dampening shirt as she settled on a position.
Her left breast slotted just above his armpit while the other sat proudly on his pectoral muscle flailing
ever so slightly with her movement that gave a disturbing image to him that liked a googly, fleshy
eyeball. He dreaded it's nipple might even wink at him. Thankfully, the unsettling vision didn't come to
any vile biological fruition but they did stare at him with a stomach-churning ferocity, especially when
the flickering firelight caught their bulbous forms solidifying every gruesome imperfection that made
them less than desirable. At close proximity, the stretched ligaments that barely held them up looked
like fleshy vines glued to her vulgar body. Oddly while everything else about the Mouth Bitch
was...shapely, her neckline was extremely prominent, explicitly showing what connected to what from the
head to torso- even her breastbone stuck out like a terrible bony staple from where her tits hung and
dangled. She was completely ancient but she still acted with the winking lasciviousness of the strippers
and whores of the Twister herself. Perhaps the demonic beast that pandered him so retained some of her
former human traits and desires- or perhaps the vamp just really enjoyed the prospect of "playing" with
her food in her own twisted way.

He could feel himself slipping in and out of conscious. Fighting some inexplicable tiredness
nurtured by the intense mental and physical stress he was trying so hard to overcome. Trying but failing.
It was the dart's venom. He was certain of it. He didn't know how deep the head had lodged itself but it
was enough to cause him crippling and strangely numbing pain. The mystery toxin left him incredibly hot
and cold at the same time. It left him weaker than a newborn allowing him to be cradled so by his own
personal creature of the night with little resistance. He was completely vulnerable and he was certain
she knew it. To confirm his assumptions the vamp slipped her free hand under the cotton folds of his shirt
and rubbed his bare stomach gently and lavishly, tingling and exciting his flesh with the mildly clammy
softness of her crinkled palm. She caressed him for a few moments, circling her hand in a clockwise
motion fluidly massaging his gut lightly stimulating his nerves- to his despair- in a positive light. After
a few moments she relaxed her hand, resting it on the lower bulge of his stomach, depositing her thumb
in-between his bellybutton teasingly. Her hooked claws glided across his skin pervasively as she lightly
stroked him. Charlie could feel her beastly eyes on him, bearing down on him hard. He pleaded with
himself not to look at her. He tried to force himself to fight the curious urges written into his biology.
But of all the strength that had faded from him his will was the first to go. He looked up at her; glancing
at her wild, gremlin-like eyes.

She was pleased to have his attention. Very pleased. They scowled with cruel adoration, her
wrinkled brow narrowing with dark amour.

Why did she keep smiling at him? Why did she taunt him so? Those deadly, man-trap jaws
glistening with yellow decay, coated lovingly with fresh building plaque from her past meals. All tied in
a sickening bow with a hungry and everlasting grin that hung over him, like waiting for his execution. He
couldn't wait anymore.
 "Please, just.. Finish me off-!" Charlie choked out in weak despair. He finally found the courage to
get the words out. And now, he braced himself with paralytic fear what would come next rather than the
relief he sorely sought.

For a long moment she didn't react. Not the way he'd expected. Her smile slowly faltered to
nothing and her face relaxed, mostly. She wasn't expecting him to do that, let alone dare to speak to her.
He watched, lids half-closed. The venom made him delirious. He felt the aura of finality present. His
death near. A kind of calm before the storm. She pulled her claws out from under his shirt and languidly
reached forward and grasped his upper left arm. She tilted her head and leant into the bare flesh of his
neck. His pulse beat erratically in anticipation. Her wet jaws opened wide as she made to bury her face
into his neck. Charlie closed his eyes tightly and shook with inevitable fear and waited for her savage
bite.

Her mouth clamped over his neck and she began to kiss him. Gently and very slowly. As well as a
vampire of her "unique" shape could. The intense, burning heat of her breath briefly fooled him into
thinking she'd drawn first blood but it was only her firm, clammy rubbery tongue that had touched his
skin and was licked his neck lightly but eagerly. She held his head closely as her lips smacked against his
flesh playfully teasing him with an appetizer of what was to come. She re-adjusted her grip on her victim
and pulled him into a warm embrace and continued to work him over with her wretched tongue. Her long
hair stretched and coiled round Charlie like a thick scarf, cuddling him as tenderly as the vamp did. If
anything he realized that his pleas of release only forwarded the Mouth Bitch's plans for him. Her
playful kissing and gentle mock-gnawing on his neck kept him awake and actually helped dull his pain-
though only because the danger and fear of death overpowered him with her erotic advances. Her lips,
tongue and even her fangs tickled and teased every nerve they touched and aroused him so much he
actually began to enjoy it as much as she apparently did, despite his impaired better judgement. Though it
wasn't enough to hold him completely as every time he felt the hard wetness of her deadly fangs he was
by instinctual panic as well as a little ecstacy he couldn't explain but couldn't resist either.

She wrapped her free fat leg around and squeezed him tightly into her grasp, burying his lower
body into her hairy crotch. Her body heated him up so much it was now becoming almost unbearable. He
found himself gasping- gagging for the breath that he didn't have. Sweat silently began to leak from her
pores, saturating her skin making it juicy like a ripe melon. running across her naked back and down her
crinkled neck empowering the foul stench that echoed in the close quarters. It gave a sickening..
aftertaste with each breath he took, taking in the rotten sweet death that came with her heaving moans
and pants that bellowed by his neck and exhaling the foul, meaty scent of the vampire's monstrous lusty
form. She was only just beginning to sweat and there wasn't much to really differentiate her from any
human but perhaps to compensate for it the odor she exuded was much more pronounced and settled than
any natural lifeform. There was a kind of contentedness. She was happy to have him in her clutches and
at her mercy. And mercy was all he could hope for.

At that instant she began to slow her playful gnawing before letting a small slick of her drool
from her lower lip stretch between it and his neck and sever itself as she finally peeled her lip off his
flesh, snapping back to it's original state. For now. Slowly, she pulled herself up and seated upright on his
crotch, bearing down on him presenting herself to him like a prize. He couldn't help but stare. Something
about her compelled him to look, to survey her hideous form with insatiable interest.
 The vampire's pheromones? There was no telling but Charlie was on the brink of bypassing,
transcending his fear of the Mouth Bitch but not in the way he had originally hoped. The longer he
remained in her direct, close proximity the more his view began to change. He was beginning to feel
something for her. It wasn't love, but it wasn't far from it. All he knew now was that he didn't he hear
that nagging, panicking voice of his better judgment- his conscience- to run away from her anymore.

Good. He didn't need that asshole anymore. He could go fuck himself! He didn't want to leave just
yet, not when the show had just begun and the main attraction had chosen the lucky guy to join her in
the VIP room for a more.. personal performance.

Huh.. ? Is that really me?

Charlie for better or for worse was still in the room, pinned down by his vampire playmate but
his mental and physical capability was waning. He was no more in control of his own actions than a
zombie could. He was trying to steel himself but to no avail because every time he looked at her, those
giddy thoughts filled his head and she was all he could think about. A grimly-toothed angel of darkness
grinning from the abyss beckoning him to oblivion. Complete and utter infatuation. Possibly even more
than that. The more he stared the more appealing she looked. She was a hideous abomination, a decaying
mockery of the human form but god damn it she looked tasty.

The Mouth Bitch grinned and smoldered seductively down to him. She gnashed her horrible jaws
lightly but lovingly. For him. The feeling was mutual. She could hardly wait to show him every pleasure
she could offer and share his gratitude in turn. But the truth remained painfully clear- if only to her-
that she only wanted him for his body.

She was done playing now. He was hers now. And she was confident he'd do anything for her, do
anything to her. Just to feel her corrupted skin against his, to taste her foul lips in a kiss. Lucky for him
she intended to grant him that and more. Much, much more. But first, a little sample to whet his
appetite..
The vamp bitch lifted her arms up off of Charlie and rubbed her fat legs furtively once before
drawing her taloned hands to her bulging stomach, caressing her body from bottom to top before cupping
her imperfect breasts playing with them sultrily for her captive's immense enthrallment.
Charlie watched with bewitched amour. He could no longer turn away willingly. He wanted to
watch, to fantasize and to lust after the ugly demon whore mounting him. Every nuance, curve and ridge
be it her greasy pimples, characteristic wrinkling or her full voluptuous breasts that quivered as she did.
She held one from beneath presenting them as bait for him while she draped her frail, black hair over the
other like a mysterious curtain. The bitch cocked her head slyly inviting Charlie to join her for the fun.
Slowly drawn to the evil siren Charlie began to outstretch his hand and force himself up with the other.
He barely lifted his shoulder blade off the silk sheets when he suddenly began to convulse. The
venom was beginning to kill him, preparing to shut down his body bit by bit. The vampire bitch recognized
this reaction immediately and dropped her act nigh instantaneously. She wasn't prepared to have him die.
Not now. Not yet. Not until she was satisfied with the night's activities and she hadn't even started yet!
 Ungracefully, she climbed Charlie trailing her pubic hair from his nether regions and up and off
of his shirt, while his whole body began to gradually go limp. Scooping her prey up by the underarms she
forced him against the wall behind and held him fast against it. Her face was frightfully angry
accentuating her vile appearance tenfold. Her human victim was slipping away, growing delirious but
still looking at her with the rich adoration she had charmed into him. The toxin had worked like a charm
and made him doubly more suggestive and vulnerable to her own "special" seductions but now it was
ready to be removed. But before giving her beloved release from his torment she was taken by the
'romantic' position they were in. Cradling him by the head the beastly vampire suckled and kissed his
neck, catching the trickling sweat with her fat, meaty tongue with more sensuous abandon than before.
Taking the great care not to wound him she playfully gnawed at his throat and licked hard along the
protruding collar-bone across to the side of the neck where the arrow lay embedded hopelessly. Finishing
with the collar she clamped her mouth round the underside of his chin and began to suck and kiss it
sloppily and passionately, pleasuring his Adam's apple with her tongue with similar gusto.
Charlie gasped in both blissful pleasure and unbearable pain. Mouth Bitch snarled amorously as
she worked, hoping to excite him enough to make this night one that neither of them would forget(!)- but
she would settle for an erection. She gripped him tightly with her legs contemplating dry-humping him
but unfortunately for her Charlie was getting worse his head began to droop as she fooled around.
Finishing up on his thyroid cartilage- albeit begrudgingly- she dove on the arrowhead and bit down hard.
!!
With one lingering and agonizing movement the vamp removed what was left from the arrow in
the human's neck. He let a long, rising scream as she pulled a long steel needle out from his neck before
turning away and spitting it into the brazier's flames. There was a long beat when suddenly the gaping
hole in Charlie's neck began to leak blood like a waterfall. Instantly, she was on it, lapping it up eagerly,
almost tenderly. Poking her tongue into his wound caused him to spasm violently. He fidgeted
irregularly, unnerved by the action and she calmly held him close while she fed from him without the
use of her fangs. She wanted him human; fresh and untainted. Virginal. It was always such a greater
thrill that way. That and they tended to be more attractive this way.
Charlie began to pass out. It couldn't be helped but as far as the venom went, he'd survive but the
Mouth Bitch would be without her playmate for a while. He started to fall completely limp into her
arms. She held him quite easily but she had one last thing to do before he drifted. Pinning him against the
wall once again she bared down at him; staring deeply into his eyes. Sternly, passionately. She need to
make sure that she would be all that he thought about till they reunited once more and at last joined her
in her fun and games. The ones she lured him here for.
Charlie found himself drawn to her again, with a much stronger pull than before. Her brown eyes
glowed bright red in the flickering firelight. Her lids swayed open and closed rhythmically, hypnotically,
enforcing her dark will into his subconscious mind. Will of unshakeable love for the demonic beast, aching
but incomprehensible lust for the female vampire and the repeating, forlorn memory of her form, her
body, her face, everything about her and how she waits for him with the gift of unbridled passion and
pleasures- only for him.
Her grinning face echoed and reverberated as he lost consciousness. Charlie could feel the acid
dreams pull him into a closed world of her creation to comfort him in her absence, dreaming of the girl of
his nightmares, while Mouth Bitch prepared him for the wild night that she had in store for when woke
up.

Chap4: Body Language

Chapter Four: Body Language
 Charlie woke up very suddenly in a light, cold sweat. He was staring at the musky old ceiling,
adorned with colourless drapes and cobwebs. It was very dark around him and there was no noise at all.
Not even a single solitary echo emanating from the barren corridors.
Am I dead? No. He couldn't be- he was still breathing, though deeply. His battle with the dart's
venom had left him shaken and a bit uneasy. He still wasn't 100% yet and truth he wasn't certain he ever
would be again..
Charlie perked up. That vampire! Where did she she go?! He moved his head around sharply,
trying to get a glimpse of her in the shadows but to no avail. It was strange but he felt disappointed at
the revelation. He quietly chastised his behaviour but something deep in him wanted to see her again. He
couldn't explain it. Not in good conscience anyway.
He was certain he would see her again though and that lightened his mood considerably. Just
thinking about it made him excited. It frustrated him greatly but he couldn't get her image out his head.
Her nude body.. her rotund shape... her monstrous form. He could not explain the sudden fascination with
her- earlier he'd have given everything to be rid of her, now he wanted to get a second peek! Did she do
something to him.. ? It didn't matter to Charlie. He just wanted to be with her again.
. .What am I saying? Snap out of it, Charlie! She'll kill you! It was odd. The thought had
momentarily crossed his mind but it didn't scare him. He just had a crazy feeling that she wouldn't do it.
That she wasn't hungry or something. Well, hungry for blood, anyway.. But how could he really have
faith in that.. ? He was there at the bar. He say the mindless carnage, the heartless murder; the feeding.
He knew she was capable of it. He tried to remember whether she had a spot of blood on her anywhere
the last time she saw him but the image of her was vague, empty even. That fact made him all the more
eager to see her again. Where did she go.. ?
Charlie took a moment to survey his surroundings. He found himself lying on a bed, covered in
wearily-stained sheets. Cautiously, he sniffed them. It was rank with dry sweat of some kind but it was
much too dark, too foul, to be it alone. A bed? I thought I saw one when I first came in here but it was so
long ago.. Odd. I'm surprised it's still usable. He pushed the covers off his body as best as he could. The
venom's paralytic nature hadn't subsided yet. He was rooted there.
Damn it all! I can't go looking for her like this! Strangely this was only disappointment he felt
for his predicament. That he couldn't go searching for the angel from his nightmares. He slumped his head
back onto the damp pillow, defeated. He stared into the black void of the ceiling with uncertainty. What
now?
Suddenly, he could feel something. A huge, taloned hand clasp over the back of his head. He froze
slightly as the realisation caught up with him. Slowly he tilted his head towards the dark shadow on the
other side of the bed. It was always there but he just didn't take proper notice before. The covers slid off
to reveal a familiar-looking form that caught the dull-glow of the slowly dying-brazier. The head turned
to reveal her hideous face. Charlie was stunned, she wasn't smiling like usual which felt a little off. With
no warning to she let out a horrific roar that awoke his dormant conscience dead alert.
Charlie couldn't hold it back; he screamed in terror. The original terror that plagued him to
begin with. The human, mortal fear of coming death. The spell he was under had momentarily weakened.
And with it he instinctively tried to flee.
With panicked ferocity he scrambled off the bed. He almost escaped unchallenged when her fat
hand grabbed him by the forearm and tried to pull him back. For a brief, stunned moment she had almost
succeeded when he found himself held fast by her and her powerful arms began to reel him into her
inviting arms. He was held for a beat when he broke free of her once more by wrenching himself from her
grasp with a firm yank.
Charlie regained his footing as best as he could on the silky floor coverings. He was now aware of
the presence of scattered human- no doubt male- bones that poked out from beneath the wild, patternless
folds, highlighted by masses of dried blood and old worn flesh. The blood-red steel brazier's flames seemed
to ignite with excitement by Charlie's sudden scuffle and shone brighter, casting deep but warm shadows
across the room's interior and delights.
 Charlie glanced over to the door. It wasn't glaringly obvious but the rusty bars still trapped him
in his dirty and promiscuous prison. He was still alone. . .With her.
He cautiously looked back on the bed where the Mouth Bitch lay before him. She held his
uncertain gaze for a brief moment and with little effort and teasing she cast off the bed-sheets that
shielded what little modesty she had. The light glimmered on her imperfect body, the shadows framing
her nudity and casting mystery into what the light did not reveal to him, what she didn't present to him
with such proud eagerness. She smiled seductively at him. Enticingly. Her fat profile glowed ominously in
the gloom. Her murky yellow eyes bore into him. When he looked into her eyes he was unnervingly
compelled to join her. More than compelled. He needed to be there! The glamour she had lovingly
drenched him with began to take hold. Charlie's breath became heavy and nervous. He was well aware of
the danger he was in and the likelihood his life would be forfeit should he give in to his urge. And the
urge was strong. So strong that even it on it's own began to scare him.
The patchy gleams on her crinkled skin hinted a certain moistness to her body, most likely to the
probable grease and slowly-cooking sweat someone of her "persuasion" might exert. She was a foul
specimen of a creature, even if she were a regular human woman the only way he would be naturally
attracted to her would be if he had some kind of.. fetish for such a disgusting beast such as herself.

Not Your Average Child's Play!

"This family vacation was a great idea Chucky." Said Tiffany, approaching her mate. "And Paris, France. Of
all places!" "I knew you would like it Tiff." Chucky said with a smile. "We didn't even have to pay to get a
room." Exclaimed the bride. "Yeah. Bunch of damn pussies though. They act as if they have never seen a
living doll before!" Tiffany giggled a bit. "I thought it was so cute when you flipped the bird to the
security man, and he fell over like a rotten log." The two engaged in a brief laughing fit. "Still wish I
could have just sliced his head off!" "Now Chucky. I told you we're not doing that anymore." The one in the
white dress scolded, taking his chin between her index and middle, turning his face to meet her eyes.
"You're right. It's just.. force of habit." Chucky stifled a laugh. "We're on a family vacation, and need to set
a good example for our little Glenda." "Glen." Chucky corrected. Tiffany, as usual, took no notice. "Are
you.. feeling okay?" Inquired the male doll, noticng a certain gleam in his wife's eye. "Yes, why do you
ask?" "There's just something in your eyes that makes me think.. you're up to something." Chucky gave her a
rather lustful grin. "You know.. Paris France is kown as the city of.. love and romance." She cocked her left
brow, her eyes firing up. "Oh?" "Do you know why I wanted to get a room with bedrooms.. for two?" She
came closer to him. "Oh! I know now!" He gave her a lusty smile, setting his hand upon her lower backside.
She responded with a rather devilish giggle and he lifted her off of her feet. "Carry me away!" Tiffany
exclaimed playfully. "Oh, I'll take you to a place so wonderful, Heaven will turn into Hell!" He whisked her
off to the bed and managed to rest her atop, but had quite an ordeal clambering and crawling to get up
himself. "Fucking king sized beds! They always make them so damned big!" "Speaking of fucking.. I'm waiting
for you!" Sneered Tiffany, voice silky and passionate. "Wait. Let's make this a little.. more interesting."
Chucky began removing her footwear and decided a little game would be fun, just to further warm her up.
"This little piggy went to market." He began. Tiffany giggled, not so much at the tickling of his fingers, but
the mere game itself. "This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy had roast beef.. and this little piggy
had none." Tiffany had been practically screaming from laughter at her husband's childish antics. She
herself had remembered tickling him, and now, he was inflicting the same torture on her. "and.. this little
piggy went.. wee wee wee wee.. all the way.. " He never really finished before he had settled his lips to
hers, drawing her in for a deep kiss. ".. home." Chucky stared into his lover's eyes, and could tell she was
highly aroused. "I want your little piggy Chucky! I want it.. bad!" "Same here Tiff!" "Let's get started, shall
we?" The one atop began to undrape his lovely wife, revealing her succulent milk duds, making Chucky wet
in the mouth, giving them a squeeze. "Oh Chucky! I know you want more than these!" Tiffany trusted
herself towards his lower and stimulated regions and that was all the motivation he needed! Almost
violently, the lustful serial killer whipped off her beautiful white wedding gown, yet, placing it very
carefully beside them upon the floor. "Should I, help you out? You look, very hot in those clothes!"
Sneered the nude bride beneath him. "Sure thing, Honey!" The same for Chucky. From releasing the strap
of his soiled overalls, to the socks upon his feet, he became as bare as his brilliant beautiful bride, and
Tiffany could tell he was ready for some play time! "One question.. who gets to be, on top?" Inquired
Tiffany, almost a whisper in his ear. "Well, you started it after all." She released a quite excited series of
shrieking giggles, and began with her position over him, not even realizing they were being watched. Upon
her mounting, Chucky released a sharp gasp. "Oh Chucky! Take it like man!" "N-no. Tiff.. look." His voice was
almost a squeak, and Tiffany caught sight of what had caught his eye.

The talk, the lesson and the threat

"Oh, Glenda..." Tiffany had barely even noticed. "Oh! Glenda!" She quickly leaped away from her mate,
dressing herself as quickly as possible, Chucky, doing the same. "Oh.. oh my God!" Tiffany went a bright
shade of red, even Chucky's face had flushed a shade of deep red. "Uh.. err.. Glen.. h -how long have you been
there?" Glen found a strange feeling between the legs, much like that upon urination, but, somehow, not
quite the same, as it felt, really good. "About.. 15 minutes." The child said, turning away. "Oh no. Glenda has
seen everything!" Whispered Tiffany. "Okay, okay. Let's not panic." Whispered Chucky, face still rosy red.
"Wh.. what were you two doing?" Asked the child, highly curious. "Errm.. nothing. Nothing Glen.
Absolutely nothing." Chucky responded, face still a bright red. "It sure looked like you were doing
something." Tiffany, being the more sensitive one, and naturally so, didn't want to hide the truth from
her child. "Glenda, Honey.. what you saw us doing, um.. well, with your, condition.. you may not, really.. "
Glen could tell she was getting upset, and decided to avoid it. Glen hated seeing her this way. "Oh.. right."
Glen faced away from them, now feeling rather awkward of this whole mess. "I had better get to the
store." Tiffany said. "You're right, Tiff. The airline food shouldn't even be called food! That shit is
disgusting!" Protested Chucky. "Makes me want to throw my fucking guts up just thinking about it." Chucky
really didn't have anything on his mind about the food they served on the airborne automobiles, as much
as purely disgusted by the fact his own son had walked in on their private and intimate mating session.
Tiffany left without a word, face still a light pink as she left the room. "Dad.. what were you and mom
doing?" Chucky's face was still red, and it's intensity was growing as Glen asked him this question. "Uh.. it's
an, an adult thing, Glen." "But, so is killing.. isn't it? You and mom would kill, but she always said I
shouldn't. Then you would take me out on those, awful killing sprees." Glen's face went pale recalling it.
"You've lied to mom before.. and.. and you've taken me out for killing, which is something for
adults.. right?" Glen knew this couldn't be too horrid of an event, that strange bizarre, yet exciting
sensation between the legs, surely didn't feel like too bad of a thing! Chucky couldn't ignore that. He had
indeed lied to his wife, and had done things with Glen that he knew his wife wouldn't approve of. Chucky
was quick to give in. "Alright. Son.. when a boy, falls in love with a girl.. or vise versa...they, err.. well,
first comes love, then comes marriage.. then.. " Chucky took a pause and looked into the eyes of his son.
".. then comes the baby.. i, it, it's very complicated, son.. well, it can be very simple to do, but.. " He never
had a chance to complete. "Where does the baby come from? Well, where did I come from?" Chucky's face
went pink. "Uhhh.. you came from.. my wife's stomach." Glen's eyes brightened up. "Yes well, how did I get
there? Did she.. eat me?" The father realized he wasn't going to let up, and decided it would be better to
tell his son the truth. "No son." The shade of blood red morphed to his ears, crawling down to his throat,
making his neck heated with harsh embarrassment. ".. Tiffany, and I..." He took in a deep breath, hoping the
oxygen would calm his sheer heated humiliation. ".. had sex."

"Oh.. is that how I got there?" Glen became further anxious to hear his answer. "But.. how did I get inside
of her?" Chucky had to turn away to avoid the wild curiosity in his sons eyes. "If it is too much for you to
tell me.. well, maybe you wouldn't mind, showing me?" Chucky's eyes popped open wide, he even feared his
eyes may leap out of his skull. "No fucking way!" He exclaimed, now starting to sweat. "No way! No how! I
may be a cold hearted serial killer, but I do NOT support incest! Not one little bit!" "You don't have to
support it dad. I just want to know." "No. No son! I'm no God damned child molester! I'd kill them all off if
Tiff would let me! Fucking perverts! Scum of the whole damned world!" Chucky could hear his heart
pounding, and could even swear his ears would burst from the blood flooding his head. "Well.. no need to
tell mom. This will be our little secret." Chucky felt his heart skip a beat. He was sent back in time, to
their first ever killing spree together, as father and son. How could his own son use his very words
against him, pelting his every nerve? "Excuse me son." "Where are you going?" ".. Just gotta.. gonna
go...release some steam, son." Glen watched him, and noticed he had taken the knife. "Mom has told you
that you shouldn't be killing. Wouldn't want her to find out, now would we?" Chucky gazed down upon the
weapon, getting a strange feeling that his son was getting an idea. "If you don't show me.. I may just have
to tell mommy of your, stress relief killing!" Sighing, he finally came to agreement. "Fine! I'll show you,
but, we have to be sure Tiffany doesn't know about it!" With that, he left without a word, just as Tiffany
got home. "Hi there Sweetface. Where's Chucky?" "Shopping." "Funny. Now why would he go shopping on
this kind of night?"

Tiffany hadn't been shopping so much for food, as she had been for.. personal reasons. She had come packed
with magazines, but enough food for the family. Glen caught sight of the covers on the paper materials
she had purchased, and lit with a smile. This was the chance! Glen had noticed mommy was spending most
of her time locked away in the opposite room, some strange sounds coming from beyond the doorway,
giving Glen another odd feeling. She seemed to be moaning, sometimes screaming, but it never sounded
like much of anything was wrong. Glen realized it must have been something good, really good, going by
her constant positive praise and wording, many containing a "Chucky!" and "yes!". This only drew Glen
more curious and adventurous of the new situation, and, it seemed she would never come out of the room,
giving Glen the perfect opportunity to snatch one of her private materials, mainly meant for more
looking than reading, taking one for her mate as well. Chucky finally came home, being sure to free
himself of any blood cells upon him. "Chucky dear." Said an almost eerie voice from the wife. "Glen is
asleep. We can.. get back to business, Honey! I'll even be sure to lock the door." Chucky had no comment.
"No comment. That's unusual of you, Chucky." "I just.. had a hard time.. " "Shopping." Tiffany finished. "What?
Oh, that right. Shopping. Well, I couldn't let you get me turned on without proper protection." He said,
holding up a small round rubber aid, just in case his wife asked him about his whereabouts that night.
"And I got a little something for you too! It's your favorite magazine!" Tiffany sneered, eyeing the now
slightly diminished stack of obscene paper readables. "Oh.. it was here. I wonder where it went."

Through the child's eyes

Glen was in the room opposite to Tiffany and Chucky, and began to scan the magazines, a smile of curiosity
rose, eyeing the scenery of uncensored bodies. Peeking over at the other article of unsightly nudities,
Glen gave a squeak of fright, seeing the bloodied images of the 'Fangoria' photos and threw it aside,
feeling a twitch in the left eye. Recovering, Glen took note of the topless woman upon the cover,
accompanied by another of the female gender, in the shower together, one of them in back, stroking the
one in front. Glen's smile grew bigger, the feeling of curiosity rising, and a certain something Glen just
couldn't figure out! It was the same feeling that came while watching Chucky and Tiffany during their
mating ritual. Scanning the pages, Glen discovered many things about sexualities. Men, women, men and
men, women and women, and even toys! Glen discovered homosexuality, ranging from magazine titles, such
as 'Lesbian News' to 'Go Gay!', and even a little something called 'Incest Digest', a special look into incest
cases, ranging from brothers, sisters and even children and parents getting married. 'Bestialities Beloved',
an odd and bizarre package telling tales of pet owners and their pets engaging in marriage and, along
with it came 'Botanical Bonus', a bonus magazine for plant lovers, depicting plants and explaining their
methods of reproduction, as well as some interesting pictures of humans of the two genders performing
some sort of plant/human mating sessions. Finally, the 'Insiders Guide To Sex', talking about different
kinds of reproductive organs and how they function, along with an article about many toys that could be
used, if need be, or, if just for fun. These only made Glen grow further hungry for Chucky, mind swarming
and filling to the brim of graphic love making, daughters and fathers, sons and mothers, daughters and
mothers, sons and fathers, husband and wife, man and man, woman and woman, human and
animal.. everything, so appetizing! Glen now knew just about everything, and what Glen didn't know would
be unveiled soon enough.

Chucky finally came from the opposite room, Tiffany, almost unconscious from being so worn out after the
entire evening of self pleasure, and had no notice of what was about to happen in the other room. Though,
she had been aware of Chucky's rather reluctant attitude of sex that night, being nervous through most
of the process, most unlike him, however, her sexual driven side gave no consideration for this after a
while. Glen had pretty much, everything planned out for dad, in order to better pleasure him. Glen
always had a likeness for Chucky, even though they did go in separate directions at times, Glen knew, and
always knew, that Chucky held a special certain place in his heart for his son, even if that meant scarring
Glen for life in the meantime. Chucky, now stepping out of the room, paced for a bit, slow, but certainly
not steady. Taking a step forward, only to retreat again by two. His eyes shifted at many times as he
approached the room, loathing the idea, oh so much. "Dad? Are you ready?" Called the voice in front from
beyond the doorway. He longed just to back down, but that was not Chucky's nature. Only this time, he
realized, he wasn't doing this to harm Glen by any means. He was only going to show his son, not actually
getting involved in the process.. which, now didn't sound like such a bad idea, after all. He wouldn't have
to hurt Glen in any way. It was just education, and all for education. What about rape? That could work!
Maybe it would help Glen become a bit more blood thirsty and tap into the killer instincts? With that, his
footsteps increased a bit speed.. and, besides, if he didn't go through with this, Glen would tell Tiffany of
Chucky's late night hobby, and Chucky just wasn't in the mood at that time, nor, any other time to get
involved and tangled in an argument! "Yes, I am son." Answered Chucky, finally after a very long pause.
Stepping into the room, his eyes drifted, and found the magazines Glen had stored away, the 'Fangoria'
magazine catching his interest, and quite so, suddenly Chucky felt his libido beginning to come back.
Perhaps, it would dull the pain if he were to browse those very pages in his head? A distraction, maybe?
That could very well work, and, if Glen was this interested in sexual urges, could it be that he may
manipulate Glen's psyche into combining rape and bloodshed together? Yes, it would be worth a try! After
all, as much as Chucky loved a late night killing spree, it just wasn't the same without someone to share it
with, and perhaps a violent gore fest of rape and plunder would be good for a change on the menu?
Certainly! Chucky was less hesitant now, and intended to teach his son all about the things he had never
learned, little did he know he was going to be taught a few things as well. Still, something didn't settle
right at the pit of his plastic stomach.

Temptation
"Alright dad. Let's get started, shall we?" Chucky, although a new leaf had been turned in this situation,
he still found his face getting warm at what he was about to tell Glen. "Okay son. But first, I.. " Glen cut
him off, like a rope around the throat. "Hold that thought. I have to go change into, something a little
more.. comfortable." Glen walked away into the rather private portion of the room, but Chucky noticed
something off about his son's voice and as well as a certain way of body language. After a short time,
Glen stepped from the bathroom. "Glen.. about that whole.. killing thing.. " Again, Glen cut him off.
"Let's. .stay on topic. I wouldn't want anything to spoil the mood." Chucky could tell Glen was quite
lustful, tone of voice, look to the eye, and even some really evident body language suggested that this
was going to be more that the 'show me yours, show you mine' routine! It wasn't until now that he noticed
what Glen was wearing. A robe, soft and pink, but with purple and black trim. Glen was clearly trying to
seduce him, even blowing him a kiss or two every so often and posing, as if for a magazine. "Oh shit!"
Chucky cursed under his breath. Glen slowly took a stride over to Chucky, draping over him. "What do
you think, daddy? Is it too.. much for you?" Asked Glen, now starting to rub Chucky over the shoulders,
fingering the folds in his clothing every so often. Chucky stammered a little, now feeling rather unsure
of sharing anything involving sex with his son. "Well.. tell me what you think. I want your, up most,
honest, and.. personal opinion!" Glen started to move lower upon Chucky, making him more nervous. "I
made it meself, you know, for a more, intimate and passionate setting." Glen still fell lower, and Chucky
felt himself beginning to sweat. "Oh.. shit!" He exclaimed again. "Oh. Did I...hit a nerve? Is all of this, rubbing
getting you.. excited?" Inquired Glen, in a most seductive manner. In fact, it was! Chucky was actually
really beginning to enjoy this. "Well.. it's just.. that, when you said you were.. going to change into
something, more comfortable.. I thought.. I thought it meant.. .you, yo.. you really meant.. something, you
know.. a little more.. .comfortable!" He felt his face get pink, and Glen was fast to comment. "I can tell
you're loving this, dad." Glen was now almost toppled over him, and really liking this position upon
Chucky, feeling rather sensitive between the legs again, Chucky, catching the eyes of Glen, so seductive,
deep and blue, full of lust and wild curiosity. "Well.. I can't lie to you son. I actually.. am liking this." He
turned his head away as he spoke, trying his best to avoid the eye to eye contact, his heat increasing. He
felt a set of fingers running down his arms, sending jolts of electric charges down his spine, and even to a
certain area that he wished would stop sending these messages of desire to his nerve wracked brain.
"You look quite hot daddy. Maybe taking off these.. warm clothes would help?" Chucky noted Glen was
fingering at the sleeves of his 'Good Guy' clothing, a light tug every now and then, he feeling the woven
materials sticking and clinging to his plastic flesh, covered with salty sweat, adrenaline laced. He really,
really did want to remove the clothing, but around his own son? No. Glen's repeated rubbing wasn't
helping matters any, exciting his nerve endings, making him sweat with even the lightest of a touch, the
warm skin to fabric to skin contact firing up his temperature. Suddenly, something made him give a sharp
gasp. Glen was breathing into his ear. "Don't be nervous. We're the only two who will know about this." As
Glen spoke, the one above placed a hand over his right, skin on skin contact, only making Chucky more
feverish. Not only that, Chucky even flinched as a set of sharp teeth embraced his ear and settled there
as Glen started to lightly bite upon him, Chucky wincing at the feeling of his son's needle sharp cuspids
slowly beginning to tighten upon his flesh, then to release for assault of a wet and slimy article of flesh
inside of Glen's mouth, Chucky could feel the heat entering his ears as his fevered temperature took on
its elevated rise, Glen, taking note of his increased temperature, only nibbling harder, caressing his hands
with more force, and tongue becoming more vicious, lapping away the savory taste of salty fatherly
sweat. "You are adorable when you blush." Glen whispered, gripping Chucky's hands for a light and loving
squeeze, now being sure to excavate the folds upon the father's ear, Glen's warm breath seeping down his
canal, pounding and beating ruthlessly upon his tender bit of skin at the very far end of his ear, the
vibrations of Glen's words, now, morphing into a torture for Chucky, Glen's touch, although light and soft,
seemed to sear into his flesh. Chucky silenced a moan of pleasure, biting upon his lower lip just to better
keep from releasing any sounds of enjoyment that might temp Glen into pursuing any further, perhaps, to
a more private and intimate setting, his breathing increasing, growing hot, his chest feeling heavy, heart
starting to race, and, Chucky realized, in true grave, utter dismay, and in a slight horror, that, he, was in
fact, really, really enjoying all that his own son was doing to him, and longed for it to escalate!

Chucky gets his wish.. sort of

It certainly did! Chucky found Glen's tongue trailing down his cheek, to his throat, and settling there,
giving him another small set of loving bites, making Chucky shudder a bit as they tapped against his scars.
What was he to do? He could let his son continue, but that was really starting to worry him. He could
take the risk of stopping the situation, but he didn't want his wife to discover his secretive late night
hobby. Glen's voice broke through his train of thought. "I know you want those clothes off." Glen said,
noticing how sweaty he was. "Maybe.. this will help." Suddenly, he was facing his son, and felt something,
very wet, slimy and hot run over his lips, to pass away and come back again. Opening his eyes, Chucky
discovered Glen was licking him over the mouth, slipping in to taste his saliva every now and again.
Chucky could feel himself getting aroused and decided to maybe would be better to tell Glen the truth.
"Glen.. son.. I want you to.. " Again, he was cut off, as a finger rested upon his wet lips. "Don't speak." Glen
ordered. "Your eyes speak for you." Glen peered with a deep and seemingly endless stare into the eyes of
the father, and, in that instant, Glen could see he had been enjoying this entire session. "Glen please, there
is something very impor.. " To Chucky's utmost surprise, he found himself falling and collapsing, and then
felt Glen's tongue deep inside of him as Glen implanted for a deep and passionate kiss. Glen leaned into
Chucky during the kiss, something about being on top of him was exciting and arousing. Glen could feel a
wave of power overcome the senses, remembering all of the horrendous killing sprees that Glen had no
say in participating in. Glen released, Chucky, even panting for breath. "Like that?" Chucky was now at a
loss of words, his child had kissed him, and.. hard! Chucky could feel the red area where the suckling had
brought fresh blood to the surface, and, it was rather sore from Glen's sharp teeth. "As a matter of fact.. I
think.. I did!" Chucky knew he couldn't hide his feelings anymore, for he was growing hard between the
legs and an obvious bulge could be easily seen. Chucky, so winded, could hardly even conceive what he had
just said, but oxygen finally caught him. He covered his mouth in realization to his own words. "Well then,
maybe we should try that again?" Again, Glen smothered him, but Chucky had blocked the entry of Glen's
heat seeking missile and enamel projectiles. Glen didn't resist, and began to nibble upon his lower lip.
Chucky stifled a squeak of pain and fright, feeling his son's razor pointed teeth coming down upon his
tender and sensitive flesh. Glen still suckled, and Chucky had been paying so close attention to his son's
teeth, he could hardly even feel that Glen had been removing the stitching with those teeth. Glen, still
nibbling, happened to wedge one of the pieces of enamel on to a soft spot, puncturing and drawing blood.
Chucky grimaced and flinched, even releasing a small grunt of pain. Glen's tongue happened to meet the
small globe of blood, and noticed the sensation as the vessels in the eyes began swelling with blood,
feeling a twitch coming to the left eye.
Oddly enough, Glen didn't resist. In fact, Glen liked its taste. Again, Glen swept over the area, now finding
the taste of blood, salty and thick to be most pleasurable. Something began to tick in the brain of Glen,
something new, but, not entirely new, more so, a new method of viewing the family situation of killing
and bloodshed. Perhaps, Glen could get used to the idea of committing violent murders, for the taste?
Glen grinned, Chucky catching something new in his son's eyes, something he had never seen before,
strangely, it frightened him, as he was the victim of the situation, Chucky could feel his eyes now filling
up to the brim with the red liquid, as the blood rushed to his eyes. Glen continued to lick over the area
until blood ceased its flow, giving Chucky such a menacing stare, even he himself was frightened by it, he
could feel Glen's eyes narrowing in upon him, hungry and lustful. "Son.. what.. are you doing?" The father
asked, as Glen began to force him down to the bed, breathing heavy, eyes a flame and burning into him,
grip increasing about his arms, pressing weight into him. "Don't worry.. you'll find out.. soon enough!" Glen
then continued to nibble upon the lips of Chucky, only much harder, drawing more blood to the surface
and lapping it away as if Glen's very life depended on the blood of the parent. Chucky started to moan a
little, feeling some grave fear from that glare in his sons normally passionate and loving eyes, and, the
fact that Glen was eagerly drinking his own blood like some sort of life saving potion, and getting quite
furious with the quest, as Chucky could hear Glen's breathing picking up, eyes twitching like mad, being
sure to get a very good hold of his arms and forcing them down.

Chucky began to squirm underneath Glen, only making Glen further excited, biting him harder, even
growling a bit. Finally, the struggle became too intense, and oxygen was much needed. As soon as Chucky
opened his mouth for air, Glen took a dive for him, making it back inside of his fathers mouth, tongue
sweeping over his teeth, cheeks, gums, and finally, running across his tongue, teasing him, and luring it to
Glen's bloodied chewing utensils and catching it between the teeth, and then, started to bite, and very
hard, Chucky even moaning into the mouth of his son at the pain, now, quite submissively, as he realized
there wasn't much he could do about this insane, strange, cruel and absurd abuse. Glen responded to the
vibrations, moaning back into the mouth of the parent, wrapping a set of arms over him, and stroking the
back of Chucky's neck, using the set at the ends to scratch him, making Chucky moan louder as Glen
continued to suckle viciously upon his tongue, sucking away at the blood as if it were a mother's savory
milk, Glen could taste the adrenaline, only making Glen more hungry for Chucky's ample red life juice,
Glen even now growling like some crazed, starved and rabid animal, salivation flow, ever increasing at
the taste of the sticky red substance upon the taste buds of the now very bloodthirsty Glen. Chucky now
began to pull away from the sharp sting of teeth, but a hand gripped his hair, giving it a firm tug, and
thrust him back into position, allowing Glen to access more of the wet slab of wounded bloody flesh.
Despite the pain, Chucky began to feel himself giving into Glen, though, not really enjoying this form of
love making, was proud that Glen had been taking a keen interest in the family tie of bloodlust. Maybe,
even taking it a bit too far!

A child's dominance..
Chucky hadn't realized that Glen was starting unclothe him, pushing the straps of his overalls over his
shoulders, and down his arms. He did note that this kissing, although painful, was indeed making him
rather turned on, even if it was his own son, he couldn't really help his intense libido from getting
carried away with things, and Glen wasn't too surprised when a certain pressure came from the one
beneath, pressing into Glen's stomach. The two were now moaning together, one out of pain, the other, out
of sheer bloodthirsty lust, a heap of moaning pleasure, and pain. Chucky now started pushing, resisting
Glen's further pursuit, but, Glen by this point was more than driven. "Getting excited, are you daddy?"
Glen questioned, noticing how much Chucky had been struggling, and not mention Glen could feel the
pressure of an active volcano beneath. Chucky attempted to wipe away the blood from his mouth, but Glen
beat him to it. "You have very good taste!" Glen commented, disgusting Chucky, like never before, lapping
off the sticky red mess, the room spinning in his sore head, Chucky looking down to find a pain at his
chest, only to see the rise and fall of his chest, his own heart beats, clearly visible to the naked eye.
Chucky's face was about as red as the blood upon his lips, his head aching. "Let's maybe, take this.. a little
further. I know how much you would like it!" Whispered the child, stroking Chucky upon the neck, passing
by the scar that lined the way, he grimacing as Glen moved the sharp nail over the permanently injured
area of red tissues and threading, fearing that Glen's nail may just slice his throat right open.

Chucky squirmed away from Glen. "Glen.. errr...I think, I, I need to help Tiffany with
something.. something.. " Glen interrupted him. "Chucky!" The parent stared in shock, at how his kid used
his name, quite unusual and startling. "You're not going anywhere!" Chucky was now quite submissive, and
sighed to Glen with the only word that came to his mind. ".. O. .Okay." "That's better." Sneered Glen, before
the child placed a hand upon the knee of Chucky, staring passionately into his terrified eyes. Chucky still
felt the instinct of resistance. "Glen please! I don't want to do this." By now, Chucky was no longer fazed
by the threat of blackmail, or his wife knowing of his murders. All he wanted now was to be out of the
temptation! Glen had seen the shimmering item within his pocket and reached for it, revealing it to
Chucky. "Don't make me use this." The now very devilish Glen sneered, eyeing the blade for fresh blood.
Chucky, although used to seeing a blade, that had always been equipped within his own hands. Knowing it
through the power of another frightened him, and he, knowing Glen had full attention upon him, watching
his every move, and, not to mention craved after his very blood, really, really did scare him! "Okay. Okay!
Glen! Put down the knife.. and we, let's talk about this!" A firm hand held the back of his throat, nails
digging in, knife pressed to his chest, Glen pulling him close, the knife rising and falling with his heart
beats, Glen, being able to feel his pulse from beyond the flesh of his hot neck, laughing maniacally, staring
into now submissive eyes of the father. "I will use this! Don't tempt me! Remember what I did to you last
time!" Indeed, Chucky did remember the day Glen had caused him severe bodily harm, dismembering him,
beheading him.. and he certainly hated dying.. again.. many times. "Fine! I'll do.. whatever the hell it is you
want. But just wait until Tiffany hears about this!"

Glen wasn't fazed in the least. "Remember! Our little secret!" Glen sniggered. "Must you always have the
last word?" Asked a rather humiliated Chucky, being pressed against the bed again, allowing Glen's fingers
to remove his overalls. "Yes." Glen placed a hand upon Chucky's knee again, this time, caressing the spot.
Chucky did feel better without the heavy overalls and, something about Glen's touch he couldn't get
enough of! Oh, how he longed to feel more of that skin to skin contact! This time, using the knife, Glen
forced Chucky on to his backside, keeping an eye upon that ever growing spot low upon his body. "So son.. "
Sighed a now quite submissive Chucky. ".. what are you going to do to me?" "That's for me to know and you
to find out!" Sneered Glen menacingly, exposing the still bloody teeth in a wicked cruel smile. Chucky
shrank, cowering at the sight, and watched Glen take off the red shoes upon Chucky's feet, followed by the
socks. Suddenly, Chucky found Glen using teeth upon his collar, breaking into yet another hot sweat, Glen
showing Chucky just who was the dominant in the whole case. "Wait! Wait! What the hell are you doing?"
Stammered Chucky, in an almost feminine voice as Glen began to scratch furiously at his shirt, nails,
acting like razor blades upon human flesh, shredding his shirt. Within moments, he found his chest and
arms exposed to the air, a chill ran through his spine, scared and vulnerable. All that was left was the bit
of clothing around his lower private regions. "Just so.. we're on the same page, you're not the only one
being...stripped of their pride." With that, Glen whipped off the robe tie, revealing the body it hid
underneath. Chucky gave a slight squeal seeing this, despite that Glen was nor female, or male, it still
was enough to send his brain into a state of shock, seeing his child naked in front of him, and planning to..

Now we're gettin somewhere!

"No. No! No Glen!" Chucky shrieked, now realizing how it felt to be a true victim, at the mercy of a
malicious bloodthirsty controller. Chucky had never experienced fright and adrenaline like this in a long
time! Glen was now hissing at him, saliva lining the teeth, blood still very visible. Chucky even gave a
scream, seeing his very son so frightening! Glen grabbed him by the hand, almost twisting it to force him
to stay put, Glen now eyeing the wear over his personal regions. Grinning, Glen set a hand upon him,
making Chucky squeak and go red in the face, breaking into a sweat, as Glen started to caress the area at
a fast pace. Chucky involuntarily reached out and held the wrist of Glen, eyes closing at his son's
stroking, so soothing and pleasurable, it morphed into a brutal mixture of sand paper and sulfuric acid, a
torture to his nerves. "Glen.. please. Don't." He muttered, voice, only a shutter of a high pitched whimper,
breathing trembling, heavy and erratic. "It will be just fine, trust me dad." Glen started stroking him
again, only this time, going much slower. "Please don't Glen. Please.. no.. stop." Glen had noted that
although resisting, he lay flat upon his back on the bed, face covered in salty adrenaline filled waters,
eyes still closed, a small line of saliva edged his lips, his breathes, now a wet, slimy hissing noise, as he
took in breaths between his wet teeth. Glen then bit down upon his last bit of clothing, growling, hissing
and tearing it off if him, finally, exposing the rod of stimulated flesh and nerves, Glen now getting red in
the face, still hissing at him, holding the knife to Chucky's throat.

"Don't you even think about running." Chucky, was now panting, staring at his severely changed son.
Indeed, this is what he wanted of Glen, to become a killer, like him, but, now, Chucky was starting to
regret ever taking Glen on those killing sprees! "You ARE enjoying this!" Glen exclaimed, noticing his
stimulated center. "There's only one thing to do now." Hands grabbed for him, but luckily, no pain, but a
different kind of pain. A tickling sensation. Glen was tickling him! Chucky tried his hardest to keep from
laughing, and that was really damn hard for him to do! He would sputter all about, flinch and flail, trying
to evade the attack of Glen's fingers. However, with Glen's enhanced reflexes, that was never going to
happen! Finally, the pleasurable agony ceased, and Chucky found Glen licking him over the throat again.
Chucky waited in eager anticipation for his teeth to pierce, but to his luck, this never happened. Glen
merely lapped away his sweat, and Chucky was really liking this treatment. Down to his chest, where two
small lobes of flesh lay, Glen dove for one, attacking it with a hot tongue. Chucky gasped and gave a cry,
again, fearing teeth, but only a very light nibble from Glen. Chucky had to bite his lower lip to prevent
from moaning as Glen licked the opposite hand and rolled his other lobe, now, a dual stimulation, making
it even more difficult for Chucky to keep quiet. After about two long minutes, Glen licked him over,
raking the salivated tongue over one, and to the other, feeling Chucky's heart beats from below, lusting
for more of his blood. Finally, it was over. Glen now moved to his torso, wetting him all over, but not
leaving him until he found a small crevice to play in and explore. Chucky, realized it would be better if he
were to just deal with things, his libido forcing him to enjoy and be pleasured by this odd form of child to
parental bonding. Finally, Glen met at his lowest set of nerves, very sensitive indeed. "Glen.. no.. please."
Chucky managed through pants, face getting hot. "I, I don't want to.. do this anymore." By this point,
Chucky was not only overwhelmed with fear and guilty pleasure, but now, sheer lust for his own child.
Glen looked into his eyes, seeing just how pained he was, and Chucky could see himself upon Glen's pupils,
noticing how frightened he was! It wasn't long until he felt a pair of wet bloody lips enclosing upon the
highly aroused nerve endings, Chucky, now fearing teeth once more. "Glen! No! Please! I told you I...I hate
incest! You're my son! I.. I...oh.. that feels good." Suddenly, as if by magic, Chucky wasn't so afraid of the
over all circumstances anymore, and found his eyes beginning to glaze over, eye lids getting heavy.
However, he was deeply fearful of one thing, the fact that was really loving this. "Oh. Oh God. Oh God
Glen! That feels.. really good!" Oh how much he had wished to say just the opposite, his libido wouldn't
allow him to!
Pieces
I was looking back on what seemed like yesterday. I was watching the snow falling to the ground. Kind of
strange seeing all of those little pieces. I studied the frozen jagged ice. It looked like I felt, that my
heart, soul and mind were all in little splintered pieces and frozen in time. So small you could never fix
them. I heard my mother screaming and I cringed inside. She had been drunk since this morning and the
light outside would be fading soon. When they were both drunk it was the worst of it. I was hungry but I
knew that there was nothing to eat. All of their money had been spent on booze. My stomach hurt and I
was tempted to go look but that would only bring my fate in a matter of seconds. I pulled my knees closer
to my chest and it made my rumbling stomach feel better. I grabbed my book and opened it. I ran my
fingers along the newspaper clipping from 'Duck Soup' and 'Animal Crackers'. I jerked my head up at the
sound of pottery braking and my father yelling. I tightened my body into a ball more. Maybe I could
disappear all together. Maybe if I wished hard enough I could just fade into this book. I heard heavy
footfalls on the stairs leading up into my room. Tears were burning my eyes. I knew what was coming. I
quickly set aside my book. I didn't want it to get damaged. I knew what he wanted and all I could do was
wait.

"God damn it, Driftwood! Stay awake! Come on we're almost there.. .fuck!" I felt a strong hand sink
into my chest and shake me. "Shit on a stick, boy! Wake the fuck up! Cmon you'r e scaring the fuck outta
me.. Otis? Can you hear me? Fuck!!" I knew the voice.. from somewhere but the darkness reclaimed me.

My door opened and the light shone into my room on me. I lowered my head submissively. "There
you are you little bitch!" My mother grabbed me by my hair and threw me on the bed. I can't tell you how
many times she hit me. Each one felt like the entire world shook. "You fucked up my life since I had you!
You fucking failure, little piece of shit!" Eventually my face went numb. I just laid there on the now-
bloodied bed. She sunk her fingers into my shoulders. "I should just fucking kill you, but you're not even
worth that are you?" I shook my head. I was too terrified to even breathe, my hands were frozen where
they had landed. It looked like I was trying to defend myself but I knew if I moved and she didn't want
me to then it would be another beating. She shook me violently by my shoulders. Screaming gibberish and
then breaking into sobbing. "But tonight, you little bitch, tonight I've got something for you." She grinned
at me with those rotted teeth. I sunk further into the bed. "It's either you or me that's getting' fucked
when Tim gets home." She spit in my face but I was still too terrified to move. "And I can tell you what,
you worthless fuck, he would rather a tight little ass of a six-year-old than my worn out hole any day." I
felt my breath catch in my chest. I knew better than to cry, she would only hit me again. She backhanded
me hard across the face. I retracted onto the bed. "You can bet you're little fucking ass that he'll be
really glad to see you, bitch." My breath was rapid as terror began coursing through my veins. There was
nowhere to hide he wouldn't find me. I curled up on the bed and let the blood flow from my nose and lip. I
just stared off. There was nothing I could do.

Something grabbed me and put my arm over his.. shoulder? "Drifty! Wake the fuck up!!" My feet
were dragging in something sharp and loose.. gravel maybe. "God damn it boy, you are scarin' me more
than Marilyn Chambers stanky pussy! Wake the fuck up, please!" I could hear yelling.

I heard those steps up the stairs. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. Maybe, just maybe for
once he would leave me alone. I heard the steps come in front of my door and the door open. With each
step getting closer and closer my chest felt like it would fucking burst. My heart was pounding and my
mind was racing. "Whoa, look at that!" I froze as he grabbed my hair. "A little fucking rabbit!" My breath
was coming in quick gasps at this point but nothing would take the shaking out of it. I could smell the
stench of whiskey and sourness on my face. He lifted me to face him. I was still frozen. "Does the little
bunny want to play a game?" I was shaking so bad that there was no covering it up. "It's called I'm-gonna-
fuck-the-bunny-up or should it be I'm-gonna-fuck-the-bunny-butt?" He waited until I dared a look at him.
I nearly cried out when I realized that he was staring at me for an answer. "I'm waiting, you piece of
shit. Which will it be?" He had the most evil grin laced across his face.

I was terrified, he had never fucked me.. I knew what it was. My parents would tie me up and make me
watch. My father had me do things to him that I didn't really understand but that made me sick for some
reason. He had me suck on his penis which apparently felt good. I was too scared not to because he had a
gun to my head. It was last year actually on my birthday. My mom had watched and had told him what
to make me do. It didn't seem bad, but something about it made me feel like I wanted to throw up. It also
made me feel bad inside, like I hated myself. I didn't know why, still don't. Maybe I deserved it like he
said. I guess being beaten wasn't so bad. You could always heal up, couldn't you? He stuck his fingers inside
of me once and it hurt really bad. I was scared of the fucking part. His penis was much bigger than his
fingers and he was never gentle about anything. "You can fuck me up."
"Well what a ballsy little bitch. Well you got part of that right, I am gonna fuck you." He lunged at me
and began tearing off my clothes. I worried because despite them being patched all over they were my
best pair and my only pair of pants. I trembled under his touch. What would he do to me? He turned me
around and forced me to get on all fours. "You move and I'll take it out of your ass, got me?" He took his
clothes off and spit on his hand. I bit down on a cry as he began to finger my asshole. "Did you just cry?"
He yanked my head back. I shook my head. "You want to be a bitch? I'll show you how it's done!" I screamed
full out as he entered me. I have never felt so much pain. It wasn't like being beaten, it was so much
worse. I screamed and cried and tried to get away. I watched the sun move to try to block out the pain. I
have no idea how long he hurt me like that but it soon became dark.

"You'll fuck him like that but you won't give me your nasty cock, you weak fuck!" My mother screamed
from the doorway. She was staggering taking swigs off of a bottle of booze. She staggered to the head of
the bed and looked down at me. I was crying so hard that I could hardly see her. "You know you deserve
this, don't you?"

I sobbed again uncontrollable. My father brought his hand down on my side hard. The pain that swelled
up there momentarily saved me from thinking about my ass. "She asked you a question, bitch!"

"Yes, I deserve this." I lowered my head and looked between my legs to see red fluid running down my
legs. It was blood.

"Why do you deserve this?" She was giggling. I screamed again as he began to slam into my body. I was so
small and his size made everything hurt with each thrust.

"Because I'm worthless and fucked up your life." I knew the answer.

"And now you tell Daddy you love it when he fucks your tight hole." My sobbing caught in my throat. I
couldn't. .it hurt too bad.

A new round of tears found themselves in my eyes. "Yes, Daddy, I love it when you fuck my tight hole."
My dad started to yell and suddenly I felt something warm inside of me.

I froze for a long time until he pulled out of me. "I'm done with you, you fucking little slut!" He pulled my
head back hard. "Now I fucked you, remember, I own you!" He kissed me hard on the lips before grabbing
my mom. "Now it's your turn whore!" I could hear them fighting each other down the hall. When I finally
could move I heard her screams. "Yeah, your hole isn't bad either!" I finally broke down and cried myself
to sleep. The pain kept me from sleeping fully. My ribs were swollen and reddish purple lined.

Beginning
I still don't own any of the House's inhabitants!

Author's warning: More of Otis's life revealed here. There is animal abuse and eating
disorder scenes. Please be forewarned.
*********************************************************************

"I dunno, he just got real sick, Eve. I have no fucking idea from what. Just coughin'
and sweaty." I could feel myself being laid on a bed. I moaned softly. Please don't
hurt me. I've already been hurt, please no more. I began to try to get away.
Someone else sat on the bed and I began to try to run away. I was too weak and
despite my mind screaming my body couldn't move.

I could smell the sweet scent of perfume, was that hibiscus? "Shh, honey, you're
fine."

"He really has some fucked up nightmares." I knew that voice.. but from where?

I felt a gentle hand on my face. A mothering touch. "He looks scared to death,
what's he 'fraid of?" I couldn't open my eyes. It was so fucking dark then.

I dunno, I just met him a little while ago. Seems pretty fucked up."

"Hey, hand me that." I felt something cold touch my face which made
me panic. "Easy, easy." Who was this woman? Where was I? Wasn't I just home?
Something about the cool wet cloth made me feel better. "Christ, John, he's soaking
wet.. go get me blankets. I'm gonna try and break his fever if I can." I moaned
again, "Easy, honey, you're home now.. " Home? The idea sent a shiver down my
spine.

It was my 7th birthday. I had asked if I was going to get a cake. I don't really know
why I expected one this year because I had never gotten one before. But I wanted
one more than anything. Enough to face the possibility of a beating if it tickled my
parent's fancy. "Why the fuck should I get you a cake? Ain't you fat enough?" My
mother crooned from her chair. I looked hesitantly in the mirror. My face was sunk
in and you could see my ribs. Was I really fat? Maybe if I ate even less then she
would love me. "Not to mention you're fuckin' ugly." I put a hesitant hand up to my
face. "Fucking skin white as snow and red eyes." She snorted in contempt at me.
"Only the Devil marks people in that way." Would I be damned because I was
marked by the Devil? "None of the people who are good God-fearing souls like your
father and I have red eyes...did you notice that, you piece of shit!" I looked slowly
again at my image. My skin was white, whiter than any others I had ever seen. And
my eyes were actually red with brown flecks in them. Sometimes they could be violet
in the early morning. But I was ugly and I knew it. "So no, you're not going to get a
fucking cake until you lose some weight and die! You are a worthless piece of fucking
shit though." I looked at my image in the mirror. I guess I must be fat then. I went
to the bathroom and stuck my finger down my throat and threw up what little food I
had managed to find. I rested my head on the seat, smelling the putrid toilet. My
stomach hurt now. I wouldn't eat no matter what it took, I had to have a birthday cake.
It was all I wanted.

I went to my room and laid on my bed. I reached out and grabbed my book. I traced
my fingers on the pictures again. I also had drawings and poems in my book. I smiled
despite my split lip at Groucho. Otis B. Driftwood, he was so funny. I was never allowed
to go see a motion picture but I read the information about it so I had an idea of what
happened. Maybe someday I could be Otis Driftwood. From what I have read he's witty
and funny. He makes a real good business man. Even though sometimes he's careless.
I fell asleep thinking about A Night at the Opera. I would be anyone but me.

Rough hands woke me. Old man hands. "Well, Eve, the best thing that I can tell ya is
that he probably has pneumonia and he is so goddamn dehydrated I don't know what to
do with him. He also has some sort of infection kicking the shit out of his body."
"Can you help him?" It was the woman again.

"Yeah, I can put an I.V. in him. Will he hold still?" Now who the hell was this?

"He hasn't been really awake yet." The woman was petting me. I relaxed under her gentle
touch. Touching for me has always been hard to accept. Up until very recently it only meant
pain and hate. Those are hard things to forget about when you correlate the sensation of
being touched with such strong emotions.

"Okay, I'll be back in a few." I heard a door close.

I remember seeing a kitty one day, a white one. I raced out into the yard to see him. When
he turned to greet me I saw something amazing.. he had red eyes! Similar to mine! I had
hoped I could keep him. I brought him in the house.

My mother watched me come in. "Something else possessed by the Devil." She rolled her
eyes. "You know the only way to be rid of the Devil is to beat him out. When you're not of the
Lord of Darkness anymore you won't look like you do. Your skin will be normal and you won't
have red eyes. But until you accept our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ into your heart you will
always look like a freak!" I hated that word. She had called me it all of my life. I took the
kitty to my room.

At some point I went to sleep until I woke up to the sounds of mewing. I watched my father
walking out the door with my kitty. I screamed after him and ran down the stairs. He had a
rifle slung over one shoulder. He brought the butt of the rifle down on my nose. I spun
around seeing stars and I was bleeding everywhere. I fell over disorientated. "I already have
a piece of shit child possessed by Satan. I am not having a fucking cat possessed by the
Devil." I could only lay there as I heard the door open. I curled up into a little ball. At the
sound of the gunshot I lost it and lay curled up and crying until I drug myself to my room.
I could hear those footfalls again after a few minutes. "Where are you, you little piece of
shit?" My father found me and worse yet found out I had been crying. "Oh, you want to cry
like a bitch?" He undid his belt and began to take off his clothes. "Let's see how much of
a bitch you are!" He paused for a moment. "But I got something for ya before I make you
my bitch." I opened one terrified eye. I was shaking so bad. He wiped a handful of blood
over my face and down my clothes. I was confused at first until I saw the little white hairs
in the blood. "Something to remember your little fuzzy friend by!" He laughed at me as I
began to cry. He flipped me over onto my stomach.

I was suddenly awoken by a cold liquid being painted on the back of my hand. I laid there
until I felt a sudden sharp pain at that same spot. I tried to pull away. "Eve, hold onto 'im
until I can tape this in. Shit, that was sheer luck. He's so bad off I doubted I could find a
vein." Eve, the woman who has been taking care of me, gently held me down. I heard some
sound like a wrapper and a squeaking sound. Something warm began to fill my hand.
"Here, this will relax him and I'll start the antibiotics. Goddamn, I don't know how he
managed so long with sepsis."

"Is he going to be okay?" The woman was so gentle with me.

"It's gonna take awhile and a lot of work. I'm guessing that the sepsis came from his arm.
We'll take care of that as soon as he's out. I guess with Vera now out of school due to her
little stunt she can help too." After that his words blurred to my ears and I felt weightless.

*****************************************************************************
Okay everyone, I want to write more but I am exhausted. Read and think about the story.
It will not be easy but I appreciate any feedback.

Run Rabbit
WAFF below, for your relief. I still own nothing here, damn it!
*********************************************************************************
I was out in the yard one day when I met another kid. She was a cute little girl. I would later find out,
like myself, that she had no name. So I called her Baby because she always looked like a baby doll. She ran
up to me on our first day. I was terribly shy of other kids. I had hardly met one. I was playing with a
broken branch. "Hi! What's your name?" She startled me as I looked up at her.

"Uh, I don't really have one." What else could I say?

"Yeah, me neither." Wow, someone like me. I wondered if her parents were the same way
mine was.

"Do you want to play?" She beamed at me.

"Sure." No one had ever invited me to play before.

"Why are your eyes red?" She was still smiling.

"Because I'm a freak." It hurt but it was fact.

"What's that mean?" She had a puzzled look on her face.

"It means I'm not supposed to be."

She giggled. "Well yes you were because you are. And because you are, you can be my
friend! I think your eyes are pretty." It was the first time I could remember that someone had wanted
me and she thought I was pretty.. I was dumbfounded. No one had ever said that before. "Why is your face
all hurt?"

I looked up cautiously. "I fell." I felt bad for the lie but the less she knew perhaps the
safer she would be.

"Sorry you fell. Let's go play!" I smiled despite my still sore lip and started to walk away
from the yard. I cast a glance over my shoulder and saw my father watching us. He was rubbing a hand
over his fly. Maybe he had an itch. But the sight made me want to leave immediately with Baby. For some
reason deep down I feared for her.

We would play a lot together. She would always come to me while I was outside and we
would go and play off in the fields. She made me so happy I can never describe it. I felt.. loved.. for once in
my life. We would run after each other and find adventure around every corner. She found my white
hair to be of constant amazement and would always want to brush it. I had long hair, even longer than
hers, and her constant brushing took the ever-persistent mats out of it. I had never really paid much
attention to my appearance before but her constant compliments made me begin to feel good about myself
in a way I never thought possible. One day somewhere off in the sky I began to see the blackish green
clouds of a twister. All sunny days come to an end.

I awoke in a bed. A tiny hand reached out and took my own. "Baby?" My voice sounded
horrible and the effort sent me into a coughing fit despite it was only a whisper.

"Are you okay?" A young childlike voice asked me in the dark. I squeezed her hand in
response. Maybe it was Baby, but I knew better. Maybe I was dead and she came to take me to the Land of
the Dead too. "Are you thirsty?" I moved my tongue around in my mouth. It felt as if I had a mouthful of
cotton, I was so very thirsty. I squeezed again. She let go of my hand and moved away. I didn't want her
to leave me. I moaned softly. I heard her sit on the bed itself and put a glass on my lips. I tried to weakly
drink the water. It took her a few tries to realize that I couldn't lift my head and she had to do it for
me. Water had never tasted so good as I tried my best to lunge at the glass. She took it away before I
was sated. "Sorry, Grandpa said you can't have too much at one time. I'll give you some more later
though." She gently began to stroke my hair. "Are you feeling better?" I squeezed again. I gathered up my
strength and tried to open my eyes. An oil lamp burning in the room seemed brighter than the sun. I
looked at the little girl. She looked like an angel. Long blonde curls and dressed in a gingham dress. I
looked at my body the best I could. I could see an IV sticking out of my hand and a bandage on the same
arm. Fuck, naturally it's my left arm that's wounded. Her beautiful blue eyes scanned me as she gently
stroked my face. "Hey I brought you my bear to sleep with until you feel better." She tucked a ragged
patched bear next to me. I gathered my strength again and moved my fingers to take more of her tiny
hand in mine. I squeezed again to let her know that I appreciated what she did. "Are you gonna be okay?"
I didn't really know. "Will you be my brother? I have two already but you look prettier.. like an angel." I
felt tears sting my eyes for a minute before I knew I had to close them. I was still too weak to stay
awake for long. In my last moments of lucidity I squeezed her hand again. "I'll be your sister, too." I felt
her petting me until I fell fast asleep.

I loved Baby. We went everywhere together until one day that storm arrived. "You
need to bring your little friend over." My father was most dangerous when he was friendly and I knew it.
"She can come inside to get you today." My breath caught in my throat. I had no way of warning her
away. On schedule Baby came skipping up the road. Please run away, please! I begged for anything to keep
her from coming into the house. When she didn't find me, she approached the door. My father opened it.
"Well come on in! My son, er.. " He looked at me for a minute. ".. Quincy would like you to have some
lemonade." I was terrified. "Why don't you go to your room Quincy and get your toys to bring along with
your friend today." He smiled at me and I wanted to scream in fear. Even his smile was like a scream of
terror inverted. I didn't dare disobey him. I quickly grabbed my book and headed back down the stairs. It
was then that I heard her crying.

"Please let me go!" She was squirming in his grip. Out of something deep inside of me I lunged at
him and bit him hard. He hit me so quickly my mouth was pouring blood before I knew what had happened.
My father kicked a chair over to where I sat, stunned. He picked me up by my shirt with his free hand
and threw me into the chair. He held Baby in one arm and secured me to the kitchen chair with twine.

While he was tying my knots she set Baby down and looked her in the eyes. "You move, little darlin', and I
will break one of your boyfriend's bones for every foot you take, got me?" I looked at her. Please run, I
don't care what happens to me. She looked into my eyes and saw what I was thinking. I almost cried out
in relief when she bolted towards the door.
****************************************************************************************
Still more to come tonight kids!

Baby and Vera

Baby had nearly made it to the old wooden door when an arm shot out from the other room and grabbed
her. It was my mother. "What's the matter, bitch? We're not good enough for you?" Baby cried out and
tried to get away. I was pulling uselessly against the twine until it tore into my skin. I continued to pull
until my father brought a whiskey bottle down on my head. Everything turned grey and dimmed out for
several moments. I watched helplessly as my mother brought Baby to my father. He threw her down on
the hardwood floor and began taking off his pants. The sound itself terrified me of him unbuckling his
pants. Baby looked towards me for help but there was nothing I could do. I felt the first hot pangs of
tears on my face. My mother backhanded me sending liquid fire through my face. "Aw, are you cryin' like
a bitch again? Well after we finish with your little friend we'll have to finish with you." I heard her
scream as my father started to rape her. I tried to block it out. I looked at the yellowing wallpaper and
at my feet. We were both somewhere else. None of this had happened and Baby and I were having a great
time out in one of the fields. A sharp pain snapped me out of my trance. Baby's screams had become
whimpers as I could hear the grunts of that bastard. My mother had cut a fine line across my arm. "Let's
see you block this out, you worthless fuck!" She emphasized her last word by stabbing the knife into my
arm, right below the elbow. A scream came out of my mouth and I started to shake and feel cold. The
agony hit me when she began to twist the knife around. "You like that don't you?" She asked, smiling. I
cried harder. The pain was unbelievable. I focused my mind beyond it, away from the moment. I would
have to learn to conquer pain if I was going to survive my parents.
I felt her withdraw the knife and my father was finished raping my friend. I watched as she lay
there silently crying and shaking all over. I knew exactly what she was feeling inside. I had been there
myself too many times. My father picked up my chair and put me in one of the smaller rooms in the house.
I looked around trying to figure out what kind of game this would be. He brought in Baby and tied a rope
around her neck. "No." I begged, I could feel the hot burn of tears in my eyes.

"No?" He asked me as if he had never heard the word before. "Did you just tell me what to do,
boy?"

"Please, take me instead of her." I had a strange feeling what he was about to do to her. It would
be better that I give up my life than for her to forfeit hers. She probably had a family who loved her and
would miss her. I had nothing really. The blood pouring from my arm was beginning to make me weak and
tired.

"Why would I do that when you have a nice little tight ass on you?" He smiled at me. There was
absolute evil in his eyes. "Besides this bitch has already been had by someone." The thought hit me.
Someone had already raped her. I hung my head.

"Please let her go and I will so whatever you want." It was my only bargaining chip I had. Please,
let this work.
 "I will take whatever I want from you, whether you want me to or not." He tied a strange knot
at the back of her neck. Baby just stared outward blankly. He threw the excess of rope over a rafter.

"Please! I'll do anything you want!" He was going to kill her. The thought repeated in my mind.

"Anything?" He stopped his actions. He slowly returned and tied the rope off.

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. What kind of sick thing would he have me do? I didn't care,
I had to save her. "Yes, anything."

He suddenly jerked the rope and Baby was dangling from it. She was screaming but all that was
coming out was a squeaking noise and gurgling. I was screaming to before I realized it. My father came
and tore through the twine and ripped at my clothes. "Then let me fuck you. If you get me to cum before
she strangulates, then I'll let her go. Otherwise, I'm gonna fuck your nice little ass and watch your little
girlie-friend choke to death." He threw me hard on the floor. I hit my knee again on the floor sending
waves of pain through my leg. "You better make it good, time's a wastin'." I turned around and closed my
eyes. I took his penis in my mouth and began to move. Soon he was clutching my hair. I could hear Baby
gasping for air. As soon as I figured he was at the end I spun around and let him rape me. I buried my
head in my arms as he slammed into me. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head up so I had
to watch her. Her face was the most awful color of purple and her tongue was hanging out. She had
stopped moving. I cried out as he became all the rougher with me. It seemed to excite him. I started to
move back onto him to hurry this up. Fuck, Baby hang on. Tears were pouring down my face as the pain
intensified. He finally slammed into me and screamed, signaling that everything was done. I was thankful
and exhausted. Not to mention I hurt so bad I had trouble getting to my feet.

I started to run up to Baby when my father snatched me and tied me again to the chair. "Where the fuck
are you goin?" I watched in horror as her cut her down and let her body fall to the floor with a sickening
thump. I looked up to see him again beginning to rape her body. Baby, please just die.. it's so much easier
that way. When she hadn't moved in awhile I was glad that she has left. It was then that I heard her
begin to cry again. I began to cry too. I lowered by head. It would be sometime later when I would hear a
gurgling sound coming from her. He had slashed her throat. He walked over to me with that death-like
smile. "Now do I need to kill you too or are you gonna be a good boy and do what I say?" I looked at him
terrified and nodded my head. "Good, now I'm going to untie you and you will do everything I say, right?"
I nodded. I was glad to get out of the chair because it hurt to sit down. "Now I want you to go over to
your friend there and kneel down." I did as I was told. Her beautiful face was twisted and contorted like
a mask. "Now," He yanked my head back baring my throat. She suddenly put the point of his knife at my
throat. "If you don't want to die, you're gonna fuck her." I couldn't do this. Today would be the day he
finally lost it and killed me. Somehow I was okay with that too. He began to cut deeply into my throat.
"Do it!" I lowered my head and felt completely dead inside. I did what he asked me to do. I don't really
remember it...somehow that makes me glad.

I opened my eyes into the blinding light. It seemed I was alone in the room. I moved slightly which made
tendons creak and bones pop. Then I felt something next to me. I tried to move my head but I was still
weak and dizzy. I reached up with my hand and felt the object. Curly hair and a soft dress. The little
angel had curled up next to me. She woke up and yawned. "You okay?" She asked me, stretching. "You were
crying in your sleep so I stayed with you." My voice still didn't work and my throat felt as if I had
swallowed razors so perhaps it was a good thing. "Still thirsty?" She asked me. Yes, I was very thirsty. She
scooted off of the bed and out into what appeared to be a hallway.
I tried to look around the room the best I could to see my surroundings. A huge man appeared in the
doorway and was shadowed by someone even larger if that was possible.
The man approached me slowly. His dark curly hair framed his face as he came closer to study me. I
realized that he must be damn near seven foot as he looked down at me. How was it possible that someone
else was bigger than he was? I was getting tired again and closed my eyes. I could hear movement across
the room. I opened my eyes to see someone with a grotesque mask on. This person was massive. He was
reaching to me and I cringed initially. Then I realized that he was putting a pillow behind my head. I
opened one of my eyes cautiously. He slowly pulled a blanket over while the other guy dimmed the lamp.
The smaller of the two lit a candle and placed it by my bedside. The light was much easier on my eyes.
"Are you okay?" He asked me. I tried to talk but just couldn't. "If you need anything, just ask." With that
he began to walk away. The larger masked guy patted me reassuringly before ambling after his
counterpart.

The little angel returned with water and a plate full of food. I greedily drank the water and again it
tasted wonderful. I could smell the food, it was fried chicken. She peeled the drumsticks and offered me
the meat. I ate anxiously. I couldn't remember the last time I had solid food. My throat hurt like hell but
I didn't care. It felt so damn good to my stomach to be full. I was contented, sleepy, and full. These things
made for the best combination of a great nap. I began to blink trying not to fall asleep. "So what's your
name?" I pointed at her discarded school backpack. I had a backpack similar that held my life in it. It had
my book in it. She brought me her backpack and then I pointed at myself. "Oh, your backpack!" I rested
while she wandered looking for it. I noticed that a new bottle of stuff was now hooked up to me. I felt
like I was on Cloud 9, so who knew what it was. Despite my hatred of needles, I have to admit that the
I.V. had helped a lot. I was more coherent and didn't feel half dead. Someone had taken care of my arm. I
had wounded it somehow; the details of recent events were still fuzzy in my mind. The hellish itching and
burning in it had stopped. I was still rasping when I breathed but breathing was getting easier. I did
pretty well during the days but my body went downhill on the nights. She returned with my bag. I
watched her pull things out of it until she came to my book. Believe me I didn't have a whole hell of a lot.
I reached to the book and knocked it open to the first page. I put my finger on the 'Duck Soup' add. "Your
name is Duck Soup?" She asked confused. I tapped the ad with my finger again. "Otis?" I nodded. "Oh, that's a
nice name. Dad only called you Driftwood. I figured you had another name." She petted my hair. "My name
is Vera." She looked like a baby angel; Vera just didn't do her justice. I took her hand in mine and she
wrapped her free hand around ours. "I like you, Otis. I think we have a lot in common." I tried to smile. I
believe that this is the beginning of one hell of a friendship and siblinghood.
Raven's Cry
Tears mix with the rain, a lone figure sitting on the sidewalk while fog curls around them like a living
thing. It’s been a year, yet all the events are fresh in her mind. Maybe that’s why the city’s dreary
weather seemed appropriate where it would have normally annoyed her. Still, the rain in and of itself
was painful; bringing memories of a song by one of her dearest friends. Closing her eyes, she tilted her
head back into the downpour; rain mixing with the tears rolling down her gaunt cheeks while she
travelled down memory lane. To a time that was both worse and better. A time she had been just another
face wasting away in the alleyways and she had long given up on human kindness.

Four Years Ago

A shuddering lump that seemed to be made out of several remains of blankets and various clothes
huddles in the furthest corner of the alley, trying to find any protection from the neverending rain. Its
only a pair of voices incessantly conversing near the heap that causes any signs of life. Slowly,
cautiously, a dirty face surrounded by matted, black hair pokes out of the self made sanctuary. “.. have to
at least try. Whoever it is could die in this cold,” urged a concerned, female voice that filled the dweller
of the rags with confusion. A male sigh responded before footsteps approached the occupied pile.
Then they were kneeling down, dark eyes meeting the feral gaze of someone who had been on the streets
for far too long and had been badly misused by them. Wide, fearful green eyes stared up at him from a
filth covered face, the greasy, matted, uncombed hair making it impossible to tell the gender of the
person. “Hey,” breathed soft baritone, making the shadow of a human flinch back instinctually. It seemed
they were expecting to be hit, suspicion clear in their wild gaze.
“Easy, my girlfriend and I don’t want to hurt you,” soothed the quiet voice from before, holding a strange
tone the person hadn’t heard in a long time. Then the man looming over the rags was holding up his hands
to show they were empty, grimacing when the shuddering homeless person shrank away.
“Eric.. ,” husked the female voice from earlier, sounding strangely nasally and just a bit clogged.
“I know Shelly but we can’t spook her. Poor thing’s frightened to death,” murmured the stranger, taking
the hidden female off guard. How on Earth had he known her sex while she had been hidden under this
pile?
Wanting to shrink back into her home until the couple had gone away or had finished teasing her, the
young woman began to shake uncontrollably. “Back up just a bit hun. I think two of us is too much for her
at the moment,” advised the dark haired man in front of her, the glint of the sun drawing her gaze to the
leather jacket hanging off his torso. Eyes travelling to his face again, she found herself taking him in for
the first time since he had started talking to her. His face was pale as well as handsome, holding some
vaguely asian features that told of his heritage.
“Wanna come in from the cold for a bit? We can give you a warm meal, a shower and a place to get some
rest,” husked an offer she was almost certain she had hallucinated. Staring up at this stranger, she felt
something stirring inside her for the first time in a long time. It almost felt a bit like hope.
Tempted but unwilling to leave the safety of her rags, she craned her head to take in the other person
that had accompanied the male. She was young and pretty, heart-shaped face framed by light red hair.
Green eyes met her own steadily, the kindness in them helping set her at ease. Shuffling free of the
scraps she had painstakingly gathered over the years, the long neglected female was shocked when the
man placed his coat over her skeletal shoulders. “Good. That’s a brave girl. Let’s get you inside,” purred in
her ear before she found herself being ushered into the apartment building she had been camping beside.
In a matter of moments, the rag covered woman found herself in a rather humble, studio apartment.
While being rather sparse on furniture, the decoration they did have seemed to fit the pair. A large,
squishy looking couch took up the center left of the space, a custom guitar leaning against its front. To
the right was a massive, four poster bed. Thin, lacy curtains hung from each steel pillar, giveing a slightly
ethereal appearance to the entire thing. Something furry rubbing against her drew her gaze to a long
furred, white cat looking up at her with blue eyes.
Leaning down slowly, she offered the feline her hand; smiling when he simply headbutted her hand. “I see
Gabriel introduced himself. Glad you like cats,” husked the man from behind her while the woman ran to
the meager kitchen they possessed. Then he too was entering the abode, leaving the small shadow they
had brought in with them feeling a bit displaced. Everything looked so clean, she would hate to get any of
the filth covering her on anything.
“Make yourself at home,” came an offer from the kitchen, the woman smiling at her with an abnormal
amount of gentleness. It was almost like the female was an angel brought to Earth. Though, given what
had happened so far, she wouldn’t be surprised if it was true.
Moving to the couch, she carefully moved the instrument that was against it to one side. Last thing she
wanted to do was knock it over or worse. Taking a seat, she smiled when Gabriel hopped up to join her.
Scratching behind his ears, she felt herself begin to relax. Something about the atmosphere made her feel
safe. Made her forget the past few years of having to eat from dumpsters. “Have some cocoa to warm you
up,” murmured a quiet baritone to her left, making her jolt slightly as her head turned to look at the
possible assailant.
When she only saw the man from earlier, she carefully took the hot mug from his hand. Allowing the
heat to warm her numb hands, she blew on the steaming, brown liquid within before taking a sip. Warmth
exploded inside her body, eyes slipping close while she was transported back to a time when her grandma
or mom would be giving her cocoa after playing in the snow all day. She was unaware of the man next to
her watching her every expression thoughtfully. What she did notice was a weight sinking down a couch
cushion next to her.
Scooting away from the stranger instinctually, she grinned a bit apologetically while taking another sip
of the cocoa. The woman from earlier came to stand behind him, kind, sad eyes meeting her own. “What’s
your name?” the unknown female asked, taking her more than a bit off guard. It had been so long since she
had used her name that she couldn’t remember what it was. Hands tightening on the mug she held, the
rag covered female furrowed her brow as she did her best to remember. She had a name once . Everyone
did when they were born.
“Hey, if you can’t remember right now its okay. We’ll just have to think of something to call you until you
do,” the man murmured, still smiling kindly.
“Though, we really haven’t introduced ourselves,” the woman behind him whispered while a light chuckle.
Letting out a quiet rumble of laughter, the man brushed his lips against the woman’s knuckles before
turning back to her. “Name’s Eric Draven. This is Shelly Webster, my fiance,” he introduced, finally giving
an identity to the kind faces that had taken her in. If only for the night. Nodding, the homeless woman
set down her drink as Gabriel crawled back into her lap; curling into a purring ball. Running a thin hand
through his soft fur, she felt more memories tickle in the back of her head. Pictures of a black cat she had
cared for like her own child. Pictures of her eventually having to give him to a trusted friend when she
was kicked out of her apartment.
Feeling wetness slide down a grimy cheek, she touched the moisture; a bit stunned to see she was crying.
It had been so long since she had done such a thing that she thought she had forgotten how. Then a pair
of strong arms was pulling her into a hug while Shelly took a seat behind her. “Shhh, you’re alright now.
Even if you can’t speak and you don’t know your name, you’ll be okay,” assured a soothing baritone from
above her while the woman behind her began rubbing her back. Shuddering, the stunned female felt
herself slowly relax as she started to feel safe, truly safe.
“Now, let’s get you all cleaned up and in some actual clothes. You’ll feel a lot better afterward,” Eric
suggested before they were all getting up.
Taking the lead, Shelly lead her to a tiny bathroom with a shower right next to the toilet and sink.
While the size of a broom closet, it was the most beautiful thing she had seen in years. Yet, she kept
looking over her shoulder for the strange man. The one that had made her feel safe the moment their
eyes had met. Catching her gaze from across the room, he closed the distance to join them in the already
crowded room. Smiling at both her and his beloved, he left the door open so they could at least remove
their clothes. Tossing them outside the room, Eric closed the door before turning on the shower
wordlessly.
Ushering her into the shower, the pair sandwiched her while they helped her wash. Years of muck rolled
off her body, turning the water running off her a distressing black. “Poor dear. You’ve been out there for
so long,” cooed a female voice in her ear while two pairs of hands continued to wash away the evidence of
her rough life. Yet, as the layers of dirt were washed away, more marks were uncovered. Scars
resembling bitemarks and knife cuts littered her back, telling the pair just how abused she had been by
their city.
Rather than being ashamed or trying to hide the marks, the young woman didn’t even seem to notice.
Sniffling as she fought back tears, Shelly set aside the loofa so she could work on the other woman’s
knotted, matted hair. There were literal clumps of heaven knew what wound into a large amount of the
mats and it was hard work just getting the mess damp enough to shampoo. Doing her best not to hurt the
homeless female, the angel in human form managed to finally pry apart some of the mats. With a lot of
patience as well as some help from Eric, the hair was finally in a state where a comb could be run
through it.
Not seeming to mind the pain of the brush pulling through years of neglect, the silent female simply
closed her eyes and smiled. With her condition, it was apparent it had been years since she had received
any form of decent treatment. Let alone felt any form of affection, even platonic. She was so absorbed in
just enjoying human contact, she didn’t notice the pair meeting gazes over the top of her head. “Its a bit
tight but.. we’d like you to stay with us. You obviously have nowhere to go,” Eric husked, making her
green eyes pop open once more. Looking from one savior to the next, she began to cry silent, happy tears;
leaning into Shelly as the other woman’s arms wrapped around her.
Making a soft noise of pleasure, he pressed his lips to her forehead before turning off the flow of water.
Then the pair was dressing her, Eric’s jeans hanging off her hips as Shelly’s were far too tight. Taking a
shirt from the other woman, the homeless female slipped it over her torso; relishing the feeling of clean
cloth against clean skin. “Now.. for a name,” husked a baritone in her left ear while a large hand played
with her ebony hair.
“Raven. After her hair color,” came a gentle suggestion to her right as she was led back to the small room
that was living room, bedroom and kitchen all in one.
A light chuckle came from Eric, dark eyes glimmering as he sat on the couch with their new roomie.
“Might as well call her Ebony or Midnight at that rate. Still, Raven does seem to suit her. What do you
think?” he asked, the mere fact they were allowing her to make her own decisions making her feel even
more off balance. Licking her lips, the nameless woman gave a shy nod while Gabriel resumed his previous
position in her lap.
“That settles that, it seems. I’m going to go help Shelly with some dinner. Just try to relax,” purred a
gentle proposition before he was getting up to join his partner in the kitchen.
Watching the couple for a few seconds, she still found it hard to believe that the other shoe hadn’t
dropped yet. By now, she would have been either beaten or raped. Instead, both these people were acting
like she was a close friend or even one of their family. Wishing she could say something to express how
grateful she was, the newly dubbed Raven made up her mind to earn her keep. While she would be unable
to work for the time being, she would at least be able to help keep the place clean while her saviors were
gone. Maybe even cook, if she could manage to make something without burning the place down.
Finally noticing the plate that was being held in front of her, the mute female took it with a grateful
smile. Baked chicken legs sat on her plate, accompanied by a buttery pile of mashed potatoes as well as a
pile of golden corn. It was the most real food she had seen in years. Carefully shooing Gabriel off her lap
so she could put her food there, she began to eat with gusto. While some part of her was embarrassed by
her appalling manners, she was far too hungry to really care. Thankfully, the pair that had taken her in
understood entirely.
This city was notoriously one of the hardest to live in and the pair had been through their own share of
hardships. This nameless woman wasn’t the only waif they had taken in due to their own experiences and
she wouldn’t be the last. So, after she had eaten, they set her up with a bed on the couch. Immediately
cuddling into her makeshift nest, ‘Raven’ let out yawn while her eyes fluttered closed. Smiling to
eachother, Eric and Shelly moved to their own bed; reading quietly so they wouldn’t disturb their new
roommate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A Few Hours Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the dark room, quiet whimpers are heard while a shaking figure huddles on the sofa. Wide, fear filled
eyes stare blankly ahead while she rocks herself. One of the forms on the bed shifts, sitting up slowly
before walking over to the distraught woman. She’d had another nightmare, visions of things that had
happened long ago and she had shoved into the back of her mind. She was so wrapped up in her own fear,
she didn’t notice Eric’s presence until he placed a hand on her right, upper arm.
Jolting away instinctually, she covered her head and curled into a tight ball; bracing for a beating or
worse. When the dark shape pulled her into a tight hug, she was more than a little surprised, Snapping
out of it a bit, she looked up to see the shadowed face of Eric. Whimpering, she hid her face in his chest;
breathing his scent for the first time. It was mellow; a mix of sandalwood, orange peel and a natural
musk. Almost immediately, it helped to soothe her; the last of her shaking slowly fading away. “Shhh, you
were just dreaming,” husked his half awake voice while he rubbed her back.
Whimpering, she nodded but still clung onto him. It had seemed so real, the fact she couldn’t remember it
fully only distressing her more. Humming softly, he scooped her into his arms; carrying her to the bed he
shared with Shelly. Laying her so she was in the middle, Erice curled protectively around her while his
fiance stirred. Without a word, the other woman also pressed against her; humming softly while the man
on her other side pressed his lips to her forehead. Soon, the pair had her drifting back off; their combined
warmth helping to keep the nightmares away for the rest of the night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~One Year Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had taken many, long months for the nightmares to stop. Thankfully, the couple didn’t mind making the
damaged female a permanent part of their bed. In fact, they had insisted on it after her third night
waking up in a catatonic state. Especially Eric. Sensing she was more attached to him, he took it upon
himself to ensure her comfort as well as safety. He had even been a bit reluctant to return to work a few
days after they had taken her in. Just going to the store often resulted in him cautioning her to close
the door once they were gone.
Shelly was no different, having taken the stranger under her wing. She gave the mute woman invaluable
instructions on how to cook as well as how to do simple chores. All things she had long forgotten how to
do while on the streets. Soon, she was cooking dinner for them just as she had wanted to on her first
night there. An action that was highly appreciated by her new roomies.
Today was no different, a pot of spaghetti and sauce boiling on the oven while she waited for the pair to
come home. So, when a knock came from the locked entry; her heart immediately leapt into her throat.
While she had lived here, the pair hadn’t had any visitors. The fact there was someone here now was a
frightening anomaly. Approaching the polished wood of the door like it was a viper waiting to strike at
her, she looked through the peephole. Outside was a little girl dressed in tattered clothing, looking filthy
as well as rather thin. Blinking, she backed away from the door; opening it cautiously.
The girl came in like she owned the place, already talking to a pair that wasn’t there. “Sorry guys. Darla
is... Eric? Shelly?” she began, trailing off to an unsure whisper when she realized the pair she was looking
for wasn’t in the room. Turning slowly, she saw a rather stunned Raven staring at her while the door
swung shut on its own.
“Who are you?” the bold child asked, her voice slightly scratchy while she lowered her worn, soaked
hood. Blonde hair fell loose of her ponytail, framing her young face while her blue eyes assessed the
silent female before her.
Wishing she could speak or even write, the mute female known as ‘Raven’ simply shrugged. Letting out a
tsk, the young girl shook her head before setting down the skateboard and backpack she had been
carrying. “Jeez, you must be pretty messed up if you can’t even speak. Name’s Sarah. I’ve been a friend of
Eric and Shelly’s for a few years now. They.. they take care of me,” came an explanation that instantly
filled the older woman with sympathy. Nodding to show she understood, she motioned to a chair by the
counter before returning to the kitchen.
Watching as the strange female stirred the tomato sauce, Sarah found herself wondering what the
woman’s story was. It was no surprise her friends had taken her in, however. Whoever this person was,
they were incredibly screwed up. Some part of her even wondered if this person would be able to take
care of herself. Still, this woman seemed harmless; pausing long enough to get her a glass of chocolate
milk from the fridge. Reaching down to scratch Gabriel when he rubbed against her legs, she was a bit
surprised to see a plate of spaghetti when she looked back up.
The dark haired stranger merely smiled, gesturing at the food before getting her own plate. Moving into
the living room to take a seat on the couch, she began to eat while Sarah eyed her own food. Finally, the
child gathered her plate to join her older companion. They were just picking up their forks to start
eating when Eric and Shelly came in through the front door. “Why was the d.. oh, hi Sarah! I see you met
Raven,” he began, concern turning to a wide smile while he shut the door behind him. Smiling at the pair
on the couch, his fiance went to the kitchen to fetch a plate for the both of them while he made his way
to the couch.
“Is that her name?” the girl questioned, taking a hearty bite of her food and getting sauce all over her
face.
“Actually, we have no idea what her name is. Shelly and I just decided to call her that until she can tell
us what it is,” came a soft response, a large hand coming to ruffle blonde hair.
Raising a brow, the twelve year old took another bit of her food as she analyzed what she’d been told.
While she was loathe to trust strangers, there had to be a reason her friends were keeping this person
around. Besides, ‘Raven’ didn’t seem like a bad person. Just damaged like the rest of them. “You guys are
always picking up strays,” the child remarked with a grin, blue eyes meeting those of the newcomer.
“And you’re one of our favorites,” Shelly remarked playfully as she pressed a kiss to the top of Sarah’s
head.
Watching as the twelve year old flailed in a good natured manner, ‘Raven’ couldn’t help but smile. It had
been far too long since she had felt so at home, so at ease. Like she was part of the family. Feeling a heat
settle in next to her, she turned her head to see Eric. Dark eyes met green while he smiled softly at her.
“Thanks for taking care of Sarah. She’s like a child to us,” he remarked before twirling some sauce coated
pasta around his fork. Shrugging, the mute female began to eat her own food.
In her mind, there wasn’t much else she could do. This kid was obviously someone who had known the pair
much longer than she had. On top of that, she was just a girl. A girl that seemed to be having problems
with her own mother. Still, it wasn’t really any of her business. Leaning into the man beside her, she
smiled when Shelly took a seat on her other side. Ever so slowly, a romantic tension had been building
between the three of them. Something the damaged female never thought she would feel again after all
the times she had been violated.
Watching the trio from her position on the chair, Sarah couldn’t help but chuckle quietly. It seemed like
the mystery had been solved. While a bit strange, she wasn’t going to judge any of them for their choices.
After all, if it wasn’t for Eric and Shelly she would have likely been dead or prostituting like her mother
by now. Finishing her food, she went to the sink to put her plate away before turning back to glance at
the trio. All three were cuddled closely, Eric placing a gentle kiss on ‘Raven’s’ left temple. Maybe now
would be a good time to make her exit. It seemed like they wanted to be alone and she could always go to
Albrecht.
Deciding to take her leave, the twelve year old said a quiet goodbye as she gathered her stuff and left.
Only once they heard the door click shut did they realize they were now alone. “Thanks for making
dinner and watching the place while we’re gone,” hummed a baritone in ‘Raven’s’ ear, making her shudder
all over while desire began to swirl in her lower stomach. A soft chuckle came from her right before
Shelly was kissing her right cheek.
“It means a lot to us to know you’ll be there for Sarah too,” sighed the other female, leaning a dark haired
head on her shoulder.
Heart pounding, ‘Raven’ took a breath before tentatively resting her lips on the woman’s head. Letting
out a sigh, the angel in human form leaned into the contact before wrapping a loose arm around her
waist. Not to be outdone, the male to her left began to nibble at her neck; large hands massaging her
shoulders. Letting out a soft noise, the female in the middle of the couple leaned her head to one side to
allow better access. “I see you trust us a lot more than you originally did when we initially took you in,”
observed a husky voice in her ear before blunt teeth were giving her pulse a gentle bite.
Whimpering, the unsure woman placed an unsteady hand on Eric’s back while Shelly moved up to nip
under her chin. Some part of her felt she was intruding on the couple’s relationship. The other part just
wanted to sit back and allow this to happen. Since the first night she had been invited to their bed, she
had felt a growing attraction to the pair. Especially Eric. “Any time you feel uncomfortable, tap either of
us twice and we’ll stop. We don’t want to take advantage of you,” sighed the voice of the angel in her
other ear.
Shaking her head, ‘Raven’ wished now more than ever that she could speak. Unfortunately, the ability to
form words still hadn’t come back to her. She was beginning to doubt it ever would. A fact that filled her
with a profound sadness. The thought that she would never be able to express her gratitude or her love
for this couple had made her cry more than once. Feeling the telltale closing of her throat even now, she
forced herself to focus on what was happening. Right now, the pair were massaging her breasts; each
taking care of one by themselves.
In alternating rubs, they brushed against her nipples; drawing quiet gasps from her lips. Yet, despite
enjoying what was happening, she had no idea how to react to it. Being much more used to being taken by
force, she found herself nervous about what they were doing to her. Let alone the almost foreign feeling
of actual lust beginning to tingle in her limbs. As if sensing her discomfort, Eric looked up from his
position at her neck to meet her eyes. At the same time, Shelly pulled up as well; showing just how in
sync the two were.
Smiling, the man to her left went in for a soft kiss; his partner following in his wake. “Its okay. We won’t
hurt you,” he assured, Shelly nodding in agreement.
“After all you have likely been through, the last thing we want to do is traumatize you more,” she
whispered, resting her forehead against ‘Raven’s’.
Overwhelmed with emotion, the woman in the middle closed her eyes while happy tears rolled down her
pale cheeks. She had spent so long on the streets, feeling rejected. It was almost strange to feel this
accepted, this wanted. Wrapping her arms around her saviors, she kissed them both in turn before moving
her hands to the hem of her shirt. To her shock, she was stopped by a strong hand and she looked up to see
Eric; an oddly starved look to his brown eyes. “Let us unwrap you,” cooed his gruff voice while more
feminine hands replaced hers on her shirt. In one motion, the article of clothing was removed; revealing
her to the pair.
Rather than try to hide herself, she allowed them to gaze over her. Soft noises of displeasure escaped
them while they traced over scars that littered her front and sides. Like before, they served as
reminders of what had happened to her while on the street. Kissing a rather nasty looking bite scar, Eric
let out a particularly angry snarl. “You don’t have to worry about something like this happening ever
again. You’ll always have a home here, even if you decide to move out on your own,” he assured while his
fiance kissed ‘Raven’s’ tear-stained cheeks.
Soon, she found herself laid on the bed; the half asian man hovering over her while his lover locked the
apartment door. “Just relax and enjoy it. I promise you can trust us,” purred his baritone before he
resumed playing with her perky breasts. Of all the parts of her body, they held the most bite scars.
Making an animalistic noise, Eric closed his mouth around her right nipple while Shelly crawled back
onto the bed.
“Poor darling. Such a sweet girl being misused like that.. ,” the other woman husked in her ear while
rubbing the breast her fiance wasn’t occupied with.
Sighing, ‘Raven’ placed a cautious hand on Shelly’s upper back. She was rewarded with a kiss under her
chin. Strange, pleasant sensations filling her body; the damaged female closed her eyes as she finally
stopped struggling against them. In an instant, the feelings washed over her and a small gasp issued from
her lips. Taking that as a sign, Shelly closed her own mouth over an unoccupied nipple; sucking gently
while her and Eric’s hands intertwined over the other woman’s stomach. Burying her hands in their hair,
the mute female arched into the couple as a hot coil began to curl tighter in her womb.
Tongues laving over sensitive flesh, she felt the tingling in her extremities intensify while needy whines
left her unconsciously. A large hand slowly moves down to cup her nethers, callused fingers playing with
swollen lips while a strange noise huffs from ‘Raven’s’ lungs. Shelly’s tongue cups her left bud, rolling it
while her hand twines with her fiance’s. Letting out a soft noise, one hot mouth releases her. Letting out
a displeased cry, the lust blind woman reaches for Eric; her gaze focusing enough to see him give a firm
shake of his head. Whatever was about to happen, he wanted that part of her to himself for now.
Chuckling, the angel on her left also let go of the flesh in her mouth; leaning over a shuddering body to
kiss her beloved. Just as the shaking woman below them thought she was going to go mad from the sudden
deprivation, a warm heat was closing around her left button once more. Letting out an almost musical
sound, ‘Raven’ placed kisses on Shelly’s forehead in thanks while the weight to her right shifted lower.
Next thing she knew, there was something hot and wet covering her womanhood. Looking down out of
simple shock, green eyes met brown while a wolfish smile curled mostly hidden lips.
A hot, flexible tongue parted soaked folds and she was being flung into depths of pleasure she had never
felt before. Strangled cry leaving her throat, she clutched at Shelly’s hand in a desperate attempt to
help anchor herself. Making a soft noise, the female to her left increased suction on the nipple she had in
her mouth; fingers flexing around ‘Raven’s’. Growling, the male between her legs clutched her hips;
mercilessly attacking her throbbing clit while she began to wail. Tighter and tighter, the coil within her
wound. Until, finally, it exploded into a sweet, yet hot feeling.
Gasping, she reached for Eric as he crawled his way up her body; nuzzling between her breasts before
kissing the tip of her nose. Beside her, Shelly pulled up as well; kissing her fiance passionately before
meeting ‘Raven’s’ eyes. “Try to catch your breath now hun,” sighed out a breathy, kind voice while she
reached to brush her beloved’s very obvious erection. Groaning, the built male closed his dark eyes as his
entire body shuddered. Leaning back while his muscled chest heaved, he let out a low snarl as his zipper
slowly slid down.
While the silent female watched, the brunette slipped her hand into her lover’s jean; working his member
free of the confining material. Breathing becoming erratic while his pupils widened, Eric carefully
crawled off ‘Raven’ until he had Shelly on her back below him. Taking in a deep breath, he burrowed his
face in the right side of his fiance’s neck while she began to move her hands slowly over his member.
Groaning out her name, the shaking male pulled himself out of her hand to rest against her clothed
junction.
Moaning softly, the gorgeous woman under him lifted her lower half to remove her jeans; sliding them
over her hips with ease. Feeling a bit awkward about being around the pair while this was happening,
‘Raven’ found herself torn between watching or excusing herself to the bathroom until she was sure they
were done. The only thing that kept her in place was the suspicion the pair would have asked her to leave
if they had wanted her to. Her suspicions were confirmed when both parties looked up at her, as if to
make sure she was still there.
Reaching for her discarded shirt, she got partially dressed while the couple began to kiss passionately.
Lifting one of Shelly’s legs, Eric positioned himself before filling her with a singular thrust. Just the
sight of it was enough to make the sated lust within ‘Raven’ rekindle once more. The pair groaned in
unison, taking a moment to savor their union before the male was setting a slow but steady rhythm.
Biting her lower lip while the fires within her began to burn high, the shy mute beside them slide a hand
beneath the waistband of her panties. Fingers moving in time with his thrusts next to her, she was soon
letting out soft sighs that mixed easily with the other woman’s.
As if aware of what was going on, the dark haired man began to alternate his movements. Sometimes
moving in small circles and sometimes in short, quick bursts. It wasn’t too long before both Shelly and
‘Raven’ were crying out in unified orgasm. Stiffening above his fiance, Eric let out a soft noise before
rolling so he was lying between both women. Still breathing heavily, he wrapped an arm around each of
them; pulling them close so they were curled up on either side of him. Breathing evening out, the trio
slipped into a deep and very peaceful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~One Year Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Watching as Eric tuned his guitar, ‘Raven’ found herself stunned by the fact he was confident enough to
just quit his stable job to pursue his passion. He had started his band in earnest some time before he had
saved her, had even played a few gigs while she’d lived here. Still, she had never thought it was anything
more than a hobby. At least until he had come home, bouncing with excitement due to the announcement
sealed behind his lips. Thankfully, Shelly had been in full support. It had taken time for the mute woman
to adjust to his constant presence, however.
It was no secret to the pair their silent ward held a rather large crush for the musician. A fact Shelly
had been amused by and silently encouraged. Some part of the fashion designer hoped the broken female
would learn to trust more through the exercise. Might even regain her powers of speech. Besides, ‘Raven’
seemed to like her as well. Also, it had been entertaining to watch the withdrawn woman act almost like
a teenager around the object of her affection. So, when she had to leave the pair alone for the day, she
couldn’t help but smile to herself as the door slid shut.
Sitting on the chair while Eric began to strum and hum to himself, the silent female found herself feeling
more flustered than normal. While she had thought she was being subtle about the feelings she harbored,
the glances he was sending her way every so often were telling her otherwise. Smirking in a way that
heated her blood, the talented guitarist began to sing a song that was quickly becoming their song. Not
only did he maintain eye contact the entire time he was singing, he had yet to perform it for anyone but
her. “It can’t rain all the time. The sky won’t fall forever,” he began, his voice low and smooth.
Closing her expressive eyes, she allowed the lyrics to flow over her. “And though the night seems long,
your tears won’t fall forever,” he continued quietly, the words almost seeming to tell of her tough life.
“It can’t rain all the time. The sky won’t fall forever,” repeated his soft voice from a bit closing, making
her open her eyes to see him kneeling before her.
“And though the night seems long, your tears won’t fall forever,” sighed his baritone, almost like an
assurance before he was setting his instrument aside to reach for her.
Blushing, she fought to stay in place while his roughed palm touched her satin soft cheek. Licking her
lower lip, she forced herself to try something she had been practicing for months now. Something that
had taken a surprising amount of effort and she wasn’t quite sure she had mastered. “Eh-ri-k,” she
enunciated carefully, painfully, wincing at how horrible the pronunciation sounded. Then she noticed the
man in front of her had frozen in place, a strange look on his handsome, pale face. His almond shaped eyes
were wide and he even seemed to have stopped breathing, staring at her like she had grown two heads.
Beginning to think she had offended him, she began to turn her head to avoid his gaze. Suddenly, the hand
on her cheek shot to her chin; making sure she kept eye contact while he seemed to regain his composure.
“Say it again,” he husked out, his expression gentle despite the firm grip he had on her face. Licking her
lips and feeling more than a bit unsure, she tried again. “Er-ick,” came out this time, making her flush
more as embarrassment filled her. She had tried so hard and she was still getting it wrong when it
mattered most.
To her shock, a soft pair of lips covered hers while strong arms lifted her in the air. Breaking the liplock
to look up at him in astonishment, she sucked in a breath when she saw desire and pure joy shining in his
dark orbs. “You said my name. Of all the things you could have chosen to say first, you chose my name,”
purred out of him as he rested his forehead against hers. Laying her on the bed, he leaned down to take
her lips in a loving kiss; laving her lips seductively with his tongue. Opening to him eagerly, she twined
her tongue with his while his hand travelled under her shirt.
“How long have you been working on that one word? I can only imagine. I just wish I could do more to
show my appreciation,” sighed in her ear while his hand travelled up to cup one of her scar covered
breasts.
Gently, his callused index finger brushes over her nipple while a soft sigh escapes her. Humming in
approval, he nipped at her neck while he began to roll the nodule between his thumb and index finger.
Dulled zings of electricity raced through her veins, the familiar feeling of desire building in her center.
“Mmm, from your reactions; it seems this is reward enough,” sighed a soft growl before the hand on her
breast was coming to rest on her ribs. Before she could protest, the appendage was moving lower; coming
to a stop just above her panties.
Carefully looking into her eyes, he waited for a sign of consent before continuing. Taking in a deep breath,
she put her all into this final attempt. “Eric,” sighed into the air, soft and husky and more than enough of
a sign for him to continue. With a shudder, he nodded before delving past her waistband.
“So wet already. You must really love me,” rumbled an observation that made something inside her
shudder with a jolt of fear.
Gasping, she began to pull away; prompting the musician beside her to reach out with his free hand to
catch her wrist. Meeting her frantic gaze, he smiled while the appendage at her nethers resumed its
ministrations. “Its been obvious for awhile but.. I had no idea just how much you regarded me,” he purred,
smiling kindly while his index and middle fingers slipped into her slick, silky passage. Letting out an
unbidden moan, she renewed her struggles while shaking her head. Last thing she wanted to do was come
between this perfect couple.
Tightening his grip on her, he studied her expression for a few minutes before letting out a low chuckle
that had her looking at him in simple astonishment. “Do you think I would be doing this if I thought for a
moment Shelly wouldn’t approve?” he pointed out, his words helping her relax immensely.
“She fully supports this, even kind of ships us a bit. Its adorable really. Besides, its not like you haven’t
shared our bed many times,” continued his throaty voice as she finally began to allow the lust building
within her to roll over her body.
Some part of her had longed for a time it would just be them but had long ago accepted it could never
happen. She was just some waif they had taken into their home and not a permanent addition to their
relationship. Or, so she had thought. What Eric told her had her reconsidering a few things. “To tell the
truth, I’ve come to care for you quite a bit myself,” cooed in her ear, causing her heart to stutter in her
chest while a terrible hope filled her. Meeting his dark eyes while he removed his hand from between her
legs, she couldn’t help but think she had heard wrong.
Then he was cupping her face, not caring about the dampness of the fingers on his right hand. Taking in
the smell of herself while he pressed his forehead against hers, ‘Raven’ took an unsteady breath while her
heart hammered away in her chest. “You’ve been special since the day we took you in. It wasn’t hard to
fall in love with you,” came a confession that made her heart leap into her throat. Tears welling in her
eyes, she reached for the guitarist; letting out a soft sigh of his name while her lips brushed his cheek.
Growling softly, he moved down so his lips were there instead. Lapping at her lips once more, he pushed
her down into the mattress as she opened to him. On instinct alone, her legs spread for him; allowing him
to nestle against her junction with a content sigh. “I think you’re a little over dressed for this occasion,
don’t you?” rumbled from above her before he was helping her to sit up so he could remove her shirt.
Pants and underwear followed soon after, leaving her bare before him.
Admiring her body with dilated eyes, Eric slid off his own shirt before reaching for his skin tight jeans.
Reaching forward with an unsteady hand, ‘Raven’ stopped his movements. Looking down at her with
confusion clear on his face, she nibbled her lip while a light blush colored her cheeks. This first time they
would have alone, she wanted to be the one to undo his pants. After all, there was no guarantee this
would ever happen again. Seeming to understand her nonverbal signals, he removed his hands to watch
her with dark eyes. Taking a deep breath, she carefully placed her hands on his chest first.
Despite how much she trusted Shelly, it had always felt awkward to touch the woman’s fiance in a sexual
manner while she was in the same bed. This would be the first time she would be able to touch Eric
without feeling that slight bit of guilt in the back of her head. Running her hands over his pecs, she was a
bit surprised by how smooth his skin was. Trailing them lower, she explored his defined abs with her
fingertips; relishing his sharp intake of breath. Yet, he did nothing to hurry her exploration; hungry orbs
observing her every move.
Eventually she reached the rim of his jeans, a very obvious bulge standing out under the taut fabric.
Timidly, she reached for the anomaly; giving it a very gentle brush with her fingertips. A breathy groan
issued from above her, lithe hips leaning into her touch. Yet, he still said nothing despite his very obvious
need. Panting heavily while his arms shuddered, he met her eyes steadily; silently urging her to
continue. Being careful to maintain eye contact, she pressed her palm against his throbbing member.
Hissing, he tilted his head back; gritting his teeth while he fought to maintain control over himself.
Deciding to take mercy on him, she undid the button before lowering his zipper. Reaching into the tight
denim, she pulled his rather impressive, uncircumcised erection free. Letting out a huff of relief that was
mixed with a sound of anticipation, almost black eyes snapped open to meet hers once more. Instead of the
kind warmth she was used to, there was now an animalistic hunger that made her skin tingle in the best
way. Feeling a sudden burst of confidence, she gave him a rather saucy smirk before placing a kiss on his
tip.
Time seemed to freeze while his hands tightened in the sheets below them and he sucked in a ragged
breath. Seeming torn between continuing to allow her to do as she pleased and just taking over, Eric
closed his eyes again while a muscle twitched in his pale cheek. Both emboldened and a bit intimidated by
his reaction, she bravely closed her mouth over his head. Running her tongue experimentally between his
foreskin and tip, she was rewarded with a breathy hiss of her name while an unsteady hand came to rest
on the top of her head. Looking up she saw black had completely overtaken his eyes and a fine sheen of
sweat now coated his skin.
Ebony bangs hanging in his sculpted face, he breathed heavily through flared nostrils while she continued
to explore his tumescent flesh. Moving her tongue to the underside, she applied a small bit of suction
while taking him in bit by bit. Eventually she wasn’t able to take anymore without gagging. Wondering
what to do next, the inexperienced female lapped at the hardened flesh she had in her mouth. It was
salty, musty and a little unpleasant. Yet, she found she couldn’t get enough of it.
Growling quietly, Eric tightened his grip in her hair; his breathing sounding more strained than earlier.
Of their own accord, his hips thrust forward; giving her a clue for what she had to do next. Letting out a
soft sigh around his member, she began to move up and down slowly. “Ah, fuck,” snarled from above her,
the hand leaving her head to grip the sheets once more. Taking this as a positive sign, she increased her
speed. Suddenly, a glob of salty liquid dribbled onto her tongue; the texture making her curious enough
pull off the shuddering man to see what it was.
A white substance was leaking out of his now angry looking tip and his breathing had taken on a much
more ragged cadance. Touching the odd fluid, she was a bit surprised by how warm and thick it was.
Letting out another, more primal noise, the musician in front of her reached up to cup her cheek with a
shaky hand. “I need you Raven,” husked out of him, setting her entire body on fire. Then he was leaning
forward to take her lips in a passionate, needy kiss. Opening to him, she laid back on the mattress while he
came up to cage her with his defined arms.
“Please baby, say I can have you now,” rasped a plea when he broke the kiss to meet her gaze. His hardness
was pressed against the seat of her panties and every muscle in his body shook with the effort of holding
himself back. Still, he waited for her consent.
Reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck, she nodded as a husk of his name passed her lips. Releasing
a soft groan that was colored by both pain and need, he pulled back to remove the rest of both their
clothes. Then he was on her, placing himself at her eager entrance. Making sure to keep eye contact, he
thrust forward. Gasping as pain and pleasure lit her system, ‘Raven’ tilted her head back while she tried
to relax as much as possible. An action that would aid both of them in the long run.
Pausing while soft growls escaped him every exhale, Eric began to kiss her neck while he allowed her
body to adjust. “So tight,” rumbled an approving baritone while the sensations inside her went from mild
discomfort to something more.. urgent. Moaning softly, she gave him a gentle squeeze with her inner
walls; smirking when he bit down out of instinct. Laving his tongue on the small mark he had left, he
began a slow rhythm that had her toes curling. What felt like white fire filled her limbs and all she
could do was hold on while colors exploded in front of her eyes.
While this was far from her first experience with sex, this was the first time it had ever felt like this . It
was almost more than she could bear, yet she didn’t want to stop. Felt like she would die if that happened,
in fact. Running blunt nails down his muscled back, she let out a strangled cry of his name when he began
to go faster. Soft snarls mixed with hot breath hit her ear, driving the strange flames inside her higher
and higher. Crying out for the man above her, she fell into oblivion; Eric close on her heels.
Rolling so he wouldn’t land on top of her, he scooped her into his arms; burrowing his lips in the hair on
the top of her head. “Can’t wait to tell Shelly about you saying my name. She’ll be thrilled,” purred a
sleepy voice, the words making her snap back to reality. Turning to face him, she gave a shake of her head.
As much as she loved the other woman, she wanted this to be something just for them. It was a small
thing but she wanted it just the same. Raising a brow, Eric gave a small nod before pressing his lips
against her sweaty forehead.
“Okay, it can be our secret for as long as you want it to be,” he cooed, large hand running over her
midnight hair in a soothing manner.
Soon, she was falling asleep; unaware of the fact Eric was staring at her intensely. Strange emotions
shone through his dark eyes, guilt mixing with the affection. Sighing, he pressed a kiss to her temple
before pulling a blanket over them both. He was starting to love this broken female as much as he did
Shelly and, the weirdest part was, he didn’t mind as much as he thought he should. Crinkling his brow, he
held ‘Raven’ close while she slept. The only thing he could hope was that Shelly was as open to it as she
had seemed to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A Week Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As it turned out, Shelly had approved entirely. Had even taken to sharing tips and tricks with ‘Raven’.
Soon, the pair were ganging up on him; torturing him with pleasure until he begged them to stop. Without
question, the silent female was made a part of their relationship. A fact that still baffled her as much as
it pleased her. Maybe it was because of this acceptance that some of her memories had started coming
back. It had started the second time she and Eric had made love alone, a bit about her past before the
streets returning to her.
Watching while he tuned his instrument, she still felt guilty she hadn’t shared any of what she had
remembered. Not that she had much ability to, despite practicing her speaking every day once Shelly had
left for work. Best she could manage were very simple, caveman-like vocalizations that were more than
just a bit embarrassing. At least Eric always encouraged her, smiling whenever she made an attempt.
Whenever she got a word right, he rewarded her with a kiss; helping give her motivation not to give up.
Getting to her feet, she went to the kitchen to get him some water. Halfway there, something sparked
across her brain. A name in neon letters that made her head hurt. Falling to her knees while clutching
her head, she was unaware of Eric coming to her side while everything rushed back. Even the things she
had long ago buried to stay sane. Gasping, she buried her face in his chest subconsciously; trying to hide
from the images flashing through her own head. Her name was Elise and she had moved here to go to
college as well as to start her whole life. Needless to say, it hadn’t exactly gone to plan.
Finally, the maelstrom stopped and she was able to hear a baritone from above her desperately calling a
name that didn’t really belong to her. “Elise.. ,” she finally managed, just shuddering at the sound of it. The
moniker carried such terrible memories with it. Yet, it was hers and she would have to accept it.
“What?” questioned an astonished, worried voice before the man holding was pulling back so he could look
down at her.
“M-my name.. its Elise,” she whispered, her ability to speak having returned with the rest of her
memories.
Staring at her for a moment with an utterly astonished expression, Eric suddenly swept her in his arms
to spin her around. “You remembered! I’m so happy for you!” he cheered, his arms almost crushingly tight
around her. Smiling, some part of her couldn’t help but feel a bit sad. A part of her feared the pair had
only felt sorry for her. Now that she had recovered, the thought crossed her mind that they might push
her to move out. A pair of lips covering her own startled her out of her thoughts and she felt her
worries crumble away. Eric and Shelly loved her. As long as they were alive, she’d never have to worry
about finding a place to live ever again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~One Year Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elise and Sarah watched Shelly model the wedding dress she had made. The ceremony would be the next
day and everyone was excited. Yet, some part of the quiet female felt a bit jealous. While she hadn’t
really expected to be part of the pair’s ceremony, it still stung to feel a bit like a third wheel. Especially
given what they meant to eachother. The only solace she had was the fact they had both promised they
would a have a private ceremony with her at home. As far as they were concerned, she was already
married to them both.
Admiring the fitted, pearl white dress, Elise let out appropriate coos of appreciation. “Eric will love it,”
the dark haired femme assured, the young girl next to her nodding in agreement.
“Thanks guys,” the brunette angel before them whispered, a joyful smile on her radiant face. Then she was
heading into the bathroom, presumably to change back into her normal clothes before her fiance returned
home.
When she came out with another dress, both her companions were shocked. Then, understanding was
shining in Sarah’s shrewd, blue eyes as they flicked toward Elise. Smiling at the girl she considered her
daughter, she focused her gaze on her lover. “I want you to wear this to the ceremony as well as after,”
she insisted, carefully placing the carefully crafted dress on the other female’s lap. Letting out a small
sob, the midnight haired femme wrapped her arms around the designer.
“Thank you.. you have no idea how much this means to me,” she whispered in a tear choked voice.
Hours later and Shelly was back in her normal clothes while Eric played the set he had planned for the
reception. Rather than just sit on the sidelines and allow another band to perform, he wanted to use this
as an opportunity to get his name more recognized. All the songs he had chosen were beautiful, easily
winning over the two women. Chuckling while Shelly kissed him, he met Elise’s eyes carefully. Releasing
his fiance, he walked toward her to take her into his arms as well; lips brushing her right cheek. “I’m glad
you approve as well, my little Raven,” husked in her ear, a phrase that had quickly become like secret
code for them. In fact, he was the only one she still allowed to call her that name.
Meeting his eyes, she smiled while her heart cramped painfully in her chest. Despite all her fears, they
were doing all they could to include her in the process. She would even be up front with Shelly, even
though she would be have her own ceremony with the pair later. Brushing her lips against his cheek, she
motioned for Shelly to join them. “I love the both of you so much. Thank you for allowing me into your
lives,” husked out of her as her arms wrapped around the pair.
“No sweetie, thank you. You’ve made everything so much brighter, opened our eyes to something neither
of us would have thought of before,” Shelly assured, only making more tears roll down her cheeks.
Allowing this to go on a few more seconds, Eric pulled away from the pair with a wide grin on his face.
“No more tears! Today is a happy day,” he announced while the phone on the nightstand began to ring.
Wiping her eyes with a chuckle, Shelly nodded as she went to answer the irritating device.
“Hello, Shelly Webster speaking,” declared her soft, gentle voice.
“Oh! Great! I’ll have a friend of ours pick it up,” she chirped excitedly after a pause. Then she was hanging
up, turning to face them with the expression of an excited child.
“The cupcake order for the reception is ready! Would you mind running down the street to get it Elise?”
she asked.
Since she had started speaking again, they’d had her making small trips down the street to help build her
independence a bit. While it still scared her, she knew the couple couldn’t always be home with her. Eric
was looking at becoming a famous musician while Shelly wanted to pursue a career in fashion. She would
be alone a lot, save for Sarah. So, with a nod, she grabbed a leather coat Eric had leant her. “I’ll be back as
soon as I can,” she assured before making her way into the claustrophobic hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A Few Minutes Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shopkeeper had been a bit more chatty than she was used to but still pleasant. Humming one of Eric’s
songs to herself, she made her way back down the street. She only got a few steps when she saw
something was terribly wrong. Fire trucks, police cars and ambulances swarmed the front of the
apartment building she lived in. Feeling an instant rush of dread, she made her way to the scene while
Sarah exited an alley beside the bakery. Soon the child was right on her heels, heading toward the scene
with the same urgency.
The word please came from her lips over and over, her heart hammering behind her ribs as she hugged
the box of cupcakes to her chest. Not feeling the frosting splatter across the front of her shirt, she began
to run; unaware of the smashed cardboard slipping from her grasp to drop to the pavement. As she got
closer to the scene, she saw a very familiar body crumpled on the ground. Both she and Sarah got the
barest glimpse of Eric’s bleeding face and dead eyes before he was covered with a tarp. Shielding the
young girl against her, she looked toward the apartment while a bloodied Shelly was wheeled out.
Rushing to the woman’s side, both Elise and Sarah winced when they took in her condition. She was
covered in blood from various stab wounds, not to mention what had happened to her after Eric had been
disposed of. Reaching for the injured woman’s hand, the ebony haired femme had barely enough time to
assure her Sarah would be fine before she was wheeled off. Staring after the ambulance while it roared
off, she felt a disconcerting feeling of numbness settle over her.
Not even the presence of a policeman next to her snapped her out of her daze, rain pouring down her face
while she turned to look at the crumpled, covered body of her other lover. Slowly, an inhuman wail began
to fill the air as she slid to her knees; unconscious that the sound was coming from her own lips. Bit by
bit, she broke on the inside; the paramedics surrounding her while tears of grief rolled down her cheeks.
It wasn’t until she received a shot of something in her arm that she became calm, her body slumping to
one side while she slipped into unconsciousness. The last thing she was aware of before she dove beneath
the darkness was the sound of Sarah desperately screaming her name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A Few Days Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had been killed by a gang simply because they dared to want to get married on Halloween. A day
the gang thought belonged to them, along with the rest of the city. It seemed like such a useless waste.
Gathering what belongings she had, she made a last ditch effort to find Gabriel. Since that horrible night,
the cat had been nowhere to be found. Hopefully, he had run away to find a better home. As for her, she
could no longer stay here. Not with their blood still on the floor. Not with the signs of violence still
very clear in the room.
Just looking at the window Eric had fallen through wrenched her heart in a painful manner. Doctors had
assured her he had been dead before he hit the pavement but that had been of little comfort to her. If
only she had stayed with the couple. If only she had returned just a bit quicker. If only she had gotten
them to come with her. If only she had seen the threats the pair had been carefully hiding from her.
Swallowing tears while guilt coiled around her very soul, she took a last look at the only place she knew
she would ever truly call home.
A few moments later and she was in the back of the taxi, holding Sarah’s hand while they made their way
to the funeral. They would be the only people in attendance save for an officer named Albrecht. He had
done everything he could to save the couple. He had even gone to the hospital with Shelly, staying by her
side as she died on the operating table. Staring at the rain dribbling down the windows, Elise found
herself hoping it would never stop. After what had happened, she didn’t feel like the world deserved
sunshine.
Getting out when the car came to a stop, she wandered up to the graveside where the priest and
policeman stood. As she got closer to the coffins, she felt her heart becoming heavier and heavier in her
chest while it started to get more difficult to breathe. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was join them. Just
fling herself into the deep graves without a care for what would happen to her. The only thing that kept
her from doing so was the feeling of Sarah’s hand in hers. The girl would need someone to watch out for
her. Even if Elise herself now lacked a place to call home.
Taking in a breath, the broken woman forced herself to be brave for the child at her side. To swallow her
pain and tears through the sermon. To halt the pained wail in her throat when they lowered the pair of
coffins to their final rest. To stop from vomiting when she heard the thud of dirt on the coffin lid,
sounding far too much like knocking. Then it was all over, mercifully over and they were alone with the
policeman. “You.. uh.. you guys going to be okay?” murmured his deep, comforting voice, concern on his deep
bronze face.
“Yeah, we’ll survive,” Sarah assured, before leading her zombie-like companion out of the cemetery.
Blindly following the tugging of her hand, Elise allowed herself to drift away from reality. Away from
the pain she felt. She almost didn’t stop when Sarah did, finally pausing when she felt a sharp yank.
Focusing her bleary vision she saw an even worse apartment building in front of her. Parts of it were
burnt out from fire damage and others were rotting off entirely, giving the place a rather seedy
appearance. The drugged out shadows of humanity lingering on the front steps certainly didn’t help.
Many of them were covered in sores, more skeleton than human; only interested in their next fix.
Feeling dull horror when Sarah led her past the doorway, she took in a rotted leaning staircase that led
up several floors. “I know its a hole but Darla’s never home. You should be able to stay with no problem,”
came an announcement that made her skin crawl. Still, she found herself with little choice. Besides, at
least this way she could make sure the young girl had plenty to eat. So, with little resistance, Elise
allowed herself to be taken up the soft steps. A few boards even gave way beneath her feet, making her
vaguely grateful when they finally reached the door that belonged to Sarah.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Present Day~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite her best efforts, it had only become harder for her to continue with her life. Not even Sarah’s
appalling life was enough to draw her out of herself for very long. Soon, she had found herself returning
to the building where she had lived with them; staring up at the still broken window. While she couldn’t
bring herself to go back inside, it was getting harder and harder for her to leave the building. Most days,
she spent her days in the alley where she had been found; as if waiting for them to come back.
The only time she moved was at night. That was when she went home to make dinner for Sarah and keep
the girl company for the night. Unfortunately, she was quickly losing the motivation to do even that
much. Even now, she was huddled against the cold, brick wall; staring at the other brick wall in front of
her. This time however, she had a blade in her hand. It was Devil’s Night, the anniversary of their deaths.
A perfect night to join them. Wiping her soaked hair out of her face, she ignored the shadows of the
people walking past. After all, they were taking no more notice of her.
Closing her eyes, she placed the cold metal of the blade against the inside of her arm. One quick motion
downward and she would be bleeding out. She would finally be joining the only people she had loved, had
trusted after her ordeals on the streets. With a flick and a jolt of sharp pain, she closed her eyes while a
warm sensation began to pour from her wrist. She didn’t notice when some drunk man stumbled into the
dumpster behind her. Instead, she tightened the leather jacket she wore around herself and simply
waited for him to be on his way.
Rummaging around the top of the dumpster, he pulled out a pair of soaked boots before his dark eyes were
landing on her. Something about his hidden face was familiar but she was too far gone to care about it.
Already, a welcome heaviness was filling her limbs and she could feel herself start to drift away.
Suddenly an ice cold hand was grabbing her wrist, much too cold to belong to a normal person. Jumping
from shock, she looked into the dark eyes of the man that had stumbled into the alley earlier.
His face was so familiar it made her heart ache. So, reaching up with her free hand, she moved the hair
out of the way to see Eric staring down at her. Confusion was now in his bottomless orbs as well as
poignant pain. “My little Raven.. ,” husked out of him, his voice on the verge of heartbreak as he released
her wrist. To her shock, the wound she had inflicted upon herself had disappeared; leaving her to wonder
if she had finally snapped and gone insane. Suddenly she found herself in his arms while the man rushed
them inside the empty apartment building next to them.
Charging up the stair, he kicked open the door before entering what remained of his home. Placing her on
the ground carefully, he met her gaze while Gabriel came out of nowhere to rub against his legs. Backing
away from him while he bent to touch the cat, she watched as his back heaved upward. Suddenly, he
seemed to be reliving the night he and Shelly had died; yanked about by invisible forces and held by the
arms. Then he was jolting, acting as if he was being shot. Finally, to her horror, he was being flung toward
the window.
While still doubting what she was experiencing or seeing, she had no wish to witness the man she loved
die all over again. Rushing toward him to stop his backward momentum, she gasped when he grabbed onto
a frame above the massive circle that opened out to the street. The glass that was still on the wood tore
into his hands easily while his momentum carried his body outward to hang over the street for several,
breathless seconds. Then he was swinging himself in, landing on the glass coated wood with a crunch.
Haunted eyes went to his ruined hands while Elise kneeled beside him.
Tearing off a bit of her shirt, she began to dress the bleeding cuts; feeling his gaze burning in the back of
her head. “I’m back for Shelly. I’m back to avenge what happened to the both of us,” he explained, making
her heart ache in the center of her chest.
“I had a feeling. Still, why did you bother to save me? I died the same day the two of you did. How am I
supposed to continue on?” she whispered, not daring to look up at the apparition of her lover.
Unfortunately, an icy hand was reached to grab her chin in a painful grip forcing her head up so their
eyes met. The only warm part of him was the blood covering her skin while he glowered down at her.
“Never say that! Not ever! Do you know what your death would do to me?” he snarled. Unswayed by his
words, she pulled free of his grip to begin wrapping his other hand.
“What would it matter? You’re not going to stay here after you kill the people who murdered you and
Shelly. Once your task is done, you’ll return to peace. You’ll also be with the woman you love. What will I
have?” hissed out of her, a bit of anger mixing with the pain she felt. Backing away, she averted her gaze
from the ghost in front of her. Knowing she was about to lose him a second time, she couldn’t bear to be in
the same room.
With disturbing speed, he was across the room; creepily chilly hands settling on her upper arms. Then he
was gripping, hard . Pulling her toward him, he took her lips in a vicious kiss; his strangely cold tongue
prying at her lips. Opening to him out of sheer instinct, she placed her hands on his naked pecs; stunned to
feel scars from his bullet holes under the palms. “Stop it, you hear me?! No more! You have Sarah! Besides
that, I want you to lead a full life. I know Shelly would want the same thing,” he bit out, his wrapped
hands coming up to grasp her face.
“Would you be able to live on so easily if both me and Shelly had died while you survived?” she asked,
watching as his expression went from angry to slightly unsure.
“Even with Sarah, it would be hard just to breathe; wouldn’t it?” she continued as comprehension finally
began to dawn in his gaze.
Letting out a sigh, he removed his hand to pull her into a hug; resting his cheek on the top of her head. “I
think I understand now but.. I can’t take you with me and I can’t stay,” rumbled from above her, driving
the spike in her heart just a bit deeper.
“Still, I love you my little Raven. I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you. Just, promise
me you will try to live on just a bit longer,” begged his raspy voice while his lips brushed her forehead.
Leaning into the contact, she began to sob; a year’s worth of pain escaping her while the crow that had
followed him in made itself comfortable on a vanity table. After a few moments, she pulled away with a
shaky sigh. Then she was heading to where the bird was perched, taking in the jester masks that hung
over the mirror. Both of them sported identical make-up, giving her a brilliant idea. Gesturing Eric over,
she began to make over his face to resemble the masks. Using a white paint first, she coated his face;
taking the time to relish the fact she was actually touching him again. No matter how brief. Then she
was taking a brush, painting black stripes above and below his eyes as well as at the corners of his mouth.
Taking a stick of black lipstick as well as matching eyeshadow, she filled in the area around his eyes as
well as his lips. Once she was finished, she barely recognized who he was anymore.
The bird perched on the mirror above cawed its approval before alighting to Elise’s left shoulder. Now he
looked like the avenging spirit that he was, dark eyes taking in the transformation in the mirror. Then he
was looking back at her, a bittersweet smile on his face. Slowly getting to his feet, he pulled her into a
tight embrace; her body heat helping to warm his grave cold skin. “I wish you could stay.. ,” she whispered,
knowing he longed to stay as well. Resting his chin on the top of her head, he simply held her until his
avian companion let out a loud caw. As if to ask what was taking so long.
Pulling away reluctantly, he gave her a crooked smile before bending to take her lips in a gentle kiss.
“Wait at the graveyard,” husked out of him before he was pulling on a black shirt and walking out the
door. With a final glance back at her, he was disappearing into the night, some parts of the city already
burning due to the activities of the gang. Standing where she was for a few moments, she bent to gather
Gabriel in her arms before exiting the building. To her shock, she ran into Sarah outside. Without a word,
the girl headed down the street while she made her way to the graveyard.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Hours Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rain kept pouring while she huddled against Shelly’s gravestone, staring at the ruins that had once
been Eric’s resting place. Shielding a very unhappy Gabriel in her leather coat, she looked up to see a
soaked figure stumbling toward where she was. To her horror he seemed to be injured as well as
exhausted, crimson blood pattering onto the ground beneath his boots. With more running down his chin,
he lifted his head to fix his gaze on her. Next thing she knew, she was dropping the cat to run toward him;
placing herself under his arm to help him limp toward Shelly’s grave.
They had almost made it to the tombstone when they heard Sarah screaming for help from the church
across from the graveyard. Seeming to have renewed energy, Eric pulled away from his companion;
ignoring her frantic attempts to get him to stay where he was. “At least let me go in your place! You’re
in no condition to.. ,” she began to protest, cut off by a harsh kiss that was more teeth than lips. A kiss
that tasted faintly of blood.
“Stay here. I’m already dead anyway. It doesn’t matter what they do to me,” he snarled, the heat in his
dilated pupils leaving no room for argument. Then he was rushing toward the building, leaving her to
watch with her heart caught in her throat.
As much as she wanted to help, she knew she would only be another distraction. One that could get Eric
hurt and Sarah killed. Still, listening to gunshots followed by cries of pain made it hard for her to remain
where she was. Then she saw something that made her heart plunge into the pit of her stomach. There
were two silhouettes on the roof, one looming over the other while a third came up to join them. Breath
caught in her throat, she watched as the taller of the three figures raised a gun.
Her body was moving before she was consciously aware of it, heading toward the church before an
ethereal hand landed on her shoulder. Turning her head, her jaw dropped when she saw the ghostly
figure of Shelly behind her. A whisper of her name escaped shaking lips before she was whirling to see
what was happening on the roof across from them. Eric had crumpled, the taller figure shoving Sarah to
one side so he could move toward the fallen man. “His task is nearly done. As painful as it is, there is
nothing we can do but watch,” whispered from behind her while the man they both loved was ran through
with a sword. Feeling her heart break, Elise slid to her knees; ragged sobs escaping her while she watched
him reach for his killer. Grasping the taller man’s temples, something seemed to happen; causing the man
to convulse violently. Then he was falling, impaling himself on a lightning rod on one of the steeples
below.
With the last of his strength, the remaining silhouette made his way toward Sarah; scooping the child
into his arms before heading back into the building. After a few, agonizing moments, Eric came stumbling
out of the building; barely able to make it to the graveyard before collapsing. In the distance, police
sirens began to wail; closing in on where they were with a disturbing speed. Ignoring all of this, Elise ran
toward her beloved; kneeling to help him to his feet. As they straightened, she noticed Shelly had
disappeared; filling her with a vague sense of confusion. Still, she couldn’t worry about that right now.
Right now, she needed to help her bleeding lover back to his grave.
Half dragging, half holding him up; she helped him over to Shelly’s tombstone. As soon as his shaking hand
touched it, she was appearing. Laying him down on the soaked ground, she took a step back to watch the
odd reunion. Smiling kindly at her fiance while the rain washed his make-up off, the brunette angel knelt
to cup her face with both hands. Giving him a kiss that seemed to heal his wounds as well as renew his
strength, she helped him to his feet before they both turned to look at Elise.
While a ghostly aura began to enclose Eric, the couple approached her; the coffin and dirt falling back
into his grave behind them. Enclosing her on both sides, the pair pressed their ghostly lips to her head
while they wrapped their arms around her. Letting out a sob, she leaned into their touch; on the verge of
begging them not to leave her. Unfortunately, she knew they had no choice. In fact, she should be
grateful for the small amount of time she had with them. “I’ll always love you both. I also promise I will
do my best to continue on with my life as well as watch out for Sarah,” she whispered, kissing them both
in turn before Shelly was pulling away.
Eric, on the other hand, stayed with her; a somber expression on his pale face. Then, with a look back at his
fiance, he placed a hand on her lower belly; closing his eyes while a warm feeling filled her abdomen.
“While we can’t stay or take you with us, I can at least leave a bit of myself with you,” husked out of him,
dark orbs opening to fix on hers. Comprehension dawning on her face, she threw her arms around his
shoulders one last time; choking back a sob.
“I will be watching you both, my little Raven. Until the day you can join us,” husked his baritone, lips
resting over hers one last time. Then they were both gone, leaving her with a hollow feeling in the
center of her chest.
Closing her eyes, she tipped her face into the rain while the sirens closed in; resting a hand over her
womb. With a sad smile, she turned her head toward the yelling voice of the cops; raising her hands to
show she was no threat. Spinning to face the lawmen, she was stunned to see Sarah running toward her.
The young girl looked frantic, tears in her blue eyes while she wrapped her hands around the older
woman’s lower legs. Kneeling slowly, Elise wrapped her arms around the young girl. When she felt the
child was shaking, she felt guilt spear through her heart. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you alone,” she
promised, the rain finally letting up to a drizzle and finally tapering off to nothing.

River Princess
Chapter 1
Mihnea the Bad
There was a young woman who looked like a girl, dressed in a gray gothic lolita outfit, sitting on a park
bench with her two friends. The sky was darkening a little, but it was a Saturday and the park was a safe
place. The young woman in a gray gothic lolita outfit was looking at her fancy little camera with her
two friends. One of her friends was a tall woman with long light brown hair and a friendly smile, dressed
in the boyish style of lolita called Ouji. The other was rather short and very plump, dressed in a very
very pink sweet lolita style.
“I look so fat,” complained the Sweet Lolita, adjusting her little glasses.
“Well,” said the Gothic Lolita, “So what? You gained a lot of weight over the summer. You're a plum
instead of a prune. Plus, you're wearing lolita. Lolita tends to have wide skirts.”
The Ouji Lolita said, “At least you're not a stick like me.”
“I need lose weight,” the Sweet Lolita insisted. She carefully removed her lace adorned headband and
folded it into her hands. She had a rather disappointed droopiness in her face. “I should've listened to
those tumblr girls who say fat chicks are ita.”
“Who's ita?” said a masculine voice behind them.
All three girls turned to look at the man. He wasn't a very tall man, but he most certainly was not a
short man. His shoulders were slightly broad, but his waist was slim. This healthy looking form was clad
in a simple white t-shirt and ordinary looking jeans. He had a delicate face, high cheekbones and pretty
gray eyes with sunglasses tilted under them. His nose was a little small. Overall his complexion was an
average peachy pale, not exactly white but not exactly tanned. He had a long braid of black hair over his
shoulder, which wasn't particularly unusual, but it was interesting.
He was smiling so gently.
“Ita's not a person,” the Gothic Lolita said.
“I know,” claimed the man. He had a lovely voice, smooth and sweet and a little bit deep, with a hint of
something foreign. He pushed his sunglasses to cover his eyes and turned to the Sweet Lolita. “You're not
an ita. You're a well dressed Lolita.”
The Ouji Lolita blurted, “OMG you're a Brolita?!”
The man shrugged. “Sometimes. My name is Mihai Dalca.”
“I'm Lydia,” said the Gothic Lolita. “This is my first time wearing lolita out in public, but I've known about
the style for a while. My friend Prudence, the cute read-head with glasses, really likes it. We've been
taking pictures of our outfits.”
“My name is Bertha,” said the Ouji Lolita. “I picked the boy style because I have nice legs and wanna show
them off.”
Mihai nodded and walked around to stand in front of the women. “Are you ladies students?”
Lydia crossed her ankles and nodded. “Yeah, we all just graduated. We're all going to apply to the same
community college soon. We figure it would be less expensive than starting at a university.”
“You have a familiar face,” Mihai told Lydia, folding his arms and smirking. “Do you have a blond father?”
Nodding, Lydia answered, “Yeah, Charles Deetz is my Dad. He's a real estate developer. Have you met him?”
“I was at a party with my father. Your father showed us a picture of you. Your stepmother is a funny
woman.” There was a hint of mirth in his eyes.
Lydia's brown eyes narrowed. “You're not a student, are you?”
“No I've finished.”
Bertha tilted her head. “What school did you go to?”
“I studied in Romania. I was born there.”
“No way,” Prudence chirped, “Lydia's mom was from there.”
Lydia's plump lips formed a very pleased smile. “You don't have much of an accent.”
Mihai shrugged. “I have traveled to different places, lived in different communities.”
“I don't travel that much,” admitted Lydia, “Just in the summer to see my Bunic.”
“I imagine he's quite proud to have a pretty little granddaughter,” Mihai said, a strange, smiling sort of
wince in his eyes.
With a nod, Lydia replied, “He always tells me how pretty I am, but he always says there's a ghost in the
Poenari Castle. I don't normally trust anyone who believes in ghosts.” Most people didn't have any real
evidence of ghosts, most.
Mihai smirked at that. “I think a ghost in the Râul Doamnei would be more likely.”
Bertha frowned. “What's that?”
“Princess' River,” translated Lydia. She moved a bit of her hair out of her eyes. “A princess killed herself
in the 15th century, just jumped right in.”
“Oh,” Prudence said with a soft tone, “That's just sad. Why did she do that?”
“She thought her husband was dead, and she thought she would be captured by the enemy, so she gave up.”
Lydia sounded so casual that she might as well have been talking about dust on a shelf.
“Who was she married to?” Prudence asked.
Mihai told her, “Vlad III, Dracula, the Wallachian Prince.” He said Dracula with such a Slavic accent that
Lydia knew he'd never pronounce it any other way.
“Oh! That guy?” Bertha said, laughing a bit and showing her slightly large front teeth.
Prudence pulled out some lip balm to apply to her lips. “I remember now,” she murmured. She gave Lydia a
very knowing look. “You told me that a few months ago.”
Mihai suddenly slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Lydia, I forgot to warn you!”
Lydia's pale face took on an alarmed expression, her mouth opening a bit and her eyes widening. “What
are you talking about?!”
“Your father invited us to dinner.” He chuckled a bit, putting his hands on his hips.
Lydia sighed and giggled. “Okay, okay, when are you guys coming?”
“Tomorrow evening,” answered Mihai, “My father is rich, and he likes flattery. So please treat him like a
king and you might get a diamond necklace.” He made such a silly face that Lydia was reminded of an
emoticon with the letter P for a mouth.
“Well that's ridiculous,” snorted Lydia.
“Yes, but he is a ridiculous person,” countered Mihai. He waved at them. “I should go, Ladies. I enjoyed
meeting you.”
All three girls told him goodbye, and when he was out of earshot Prudence sqeuaked out to the others,
“Oh. My. God. That man is so sexy!”
“I didn't quite get that feeling,” Lydia said, rolling her eyes.
“Could you please get his email when he comes to dinner?” Prudence asked, “If it wouldn't be any trouble?”
Bertha laughed quite loudly, and then said, “And if the rich old guy gives you a diamond necklace, pawn it
and take us shopping!”
Lydia put her palm to her face and closed her eyes, but she really was trying not to laugh.
***
A frail figure hidden in the shadows of a corner of a dark room was pensively gazing out a window at the
trees.
Mihai approached him, carrying an ungodly amount of shopping bags. He said in a cheerful voice, “Ar fi
trebuit sa dus la cumpărături cu mine. Totul aici este atât de drăguț. Mă simt atât de tânără.” You
should have went shopping with me. Everything here is so cute. I feel so young.
The figure did not answer, only exhaled.
Mihai said, still cheerful, “Trist om prost bătrân, ar trebui să ai venit. Am văzut mama.” Sad stupid old
man, you should've come. I saw mother.
The figure spoke, in a raspy but thick tone. “Ce?” What?
***

Chapter 2
 Chapter 2
A Warning

“You've really got something good here,” Delia Deetz told her husband Charles as she brushed rose
colored powder onto her cheekbones, sitting at her vanity table. “This guy might be richer than Brewster,
freaking Brewster!”

Charles was adjusting his tie when he moved to stand next to her. “He's interested in investing in
a project of mine. In this economy, I can't say no to that.”

“Maybe he'll buy a sculpture of mine,” Delia said, testing her red coiffure with her fingertips. “He
seems to be the type.”

Charles' brow furrowed and he said, “His eyes seemed to light up when I showed him some of my
family pictures.”

“He must be a family man,” Delia chirped, “He seems to have a good relationship with his son.”

“I hope Lydia doesn't mind that I asked her to bake. Sometimes she'd rather sew something than
bake.”

Delia stood up to brush her fingers through his hair, arranging it to her liking. “After a slice of
her chocolate cake he'll throw money at you.”

***

When Lydia Deetz admired the shine on the chocolate frosted cake under the kitchen lights she
wondered if it was good enough. Maybe she should have used a different frosting, just to be different. She
shrugged and decided she was already dressed up, and the guests would be here soon, so there was no
need to waste baking material and time.

She rubbed the back of her neck, her long fitted sleeves making a very soft crinkled sound. She
heard her long dress' skirt flutter about her ankles, and she wondered if her dress was too matronly. The
neckline was very high, and the waist was as fitted as her sleeves, allowing a slight flare to the skirt.
There weren't any other major details to the garment. It was black, simple cotton, no pleating, no
interesting pattern.
 Lydia touched her hair and realized she hadn't done anything with it, other than putting it in a
ponytail. This was not appropiate, so she put a glass lid over the cake and went upstairs to her room.

When she walked downstairs, she halted at the bottom step, because there was a round of great
and thunderous laughter that made her throat constrict for a moment. She placed her hand on her bosom
and moved into the living room.

“We were waiting on you!” Charles told her with a joyful tone. He nodded at the person standing
next to him. “Mihai just told the most interesting joke I've ever heard.”

Lydia didn't really care what the joke was, but she looked at Mihai and smiled anyway. Then she
looked at the man next to Mihai.

Nice hair.

That was the first thing that popped in her head. Nice hair. He had very nice, long, dark brown,
wavy hair, longer than Mihai's. Lydia thought that her intentionally messy 1980s inspired updo seemed a
bit childish when compared to his hair. His shoulders were broader than Mihai's, and his face was a bit
rounder, and he had those gray eyes. There was a warmth in those eyes when he looked at her. Lydia
blinked a few times because looking at those eyes unnerved her and she wasn't sure why. Judging by his
grin and the mild blush to his cheeks he was the one who laughed so hard.

Why was his mouth so yummy looking?

That wasn't a good thought to have about an older man. She forced herself to notice the mild
lines under his eyes. He didn't have very many lines.

That was a very nice suit he wore, black with a red shirt and a gold colored tie. There was a
little jewel under the knot, flashy.

Charles suggested that they all go into the dining room and Lydia was the one who served
everyone their plates before sitting down. Everyone was polite enough to wait until she sat down, and
she appreciated that. Mihai asked if they were to say a prayer before the meal, and Delia told him that
wasn't necessary, because they weren't a strictly religious household. Charles was a very relaxed
Catholic (but not exactly a relaxed person), yet his wife was Atheist/Agnostic depending on her mood,
and Lydia claimed to be Agnostic but she had experimented with different religions. Mihai said he and his
father were not very religious, and left it at that. So, nobody felt any qualms about digging into the
meal. It was a lovely meal, and thankfully Delia had not cooked very much of it. She was an earnest cook,
but not a very skilled one.
 The main portion of the meal was steak, and steak was fairly expensive, but Charles felt the price
was worth it. The side dishes were baked potatoes and a very creamy pasta with mushroom slices. It
wasn't exactly a fancy dinner, but it was lovely and simple enough. Lydia made certain everyone around
her had red wine, and made certain not to take any for herself. Mihai's father, who had said his name was
Vlad, had mentioned something about a limousine. So, Lydia assumed they would not be driving home.

Mihai seemed to make a point of talking to her. He was sitting next to her, so this wasn't a foolish
thing to do. Despite that fact, Lydia really took notice of his efforts. He asked her about school, about her
friends, about her hobbies, about pretty much anything he could ask without seeming creepy. Mihai didn't
appear to be very much older than Lydia, so of course Delia encouraged this by telling Mihai all about
Lydia's accomplishments. The idea of a rich young man taking an interest in Lydia probably gave Delia's
soul an orgasm, but Lydia didn't comment on Delia's almost hungry looking eyes as she admired Mihai's
very pretty diamond pinky ring. Lydia did give her father an uncomfortable look, and Charles merely
shrugged.

Vlad Dalca spoke to her, and this startled her because he had mostly spoken to his son and
Charles. “Lydia, may I ask, what are your career plans?”

Lydia hesitated, her fork in her steak. “I dunno. Maybe I'll be a costume designer or something.”

Charles chimed in, “I don't see why you can't be, but maybe you should be a lawyer?”

“Oh come on,” Lydia said as she reached for her glass of soda, making an unamused face.

Delia seemed rather compelled when she said, “Lydia could be a fabulous lawyer! She's sharper
than clay wire cutter.”

Charles nodded. “Hey, maybe she could be a fashion designer. She has a knack for that, but it'll
take a lot of luck.”

After a few minutes the conversation changed to the state of the nation's economy, and Lydia
really didn't want to pay any attention. Mihai seemed to notice this, so he lured her into an unrelated
conversation about, of all things, horror films. At one point the conversation turned into something like
an ode to stupid amounts of gore in some films, and then the everyone around them turned silent. Charles
looked like he was a little bit sick and disturbed.

“Well,” Lydia said, “that was inappropriate of us.”

“I'm aware,” retorted Mihai, beaming at everyone, “I just wanted them to stop talking about the
economy. It depressed me.”
 That was when Delia laughed a very fake and funny laugh. Charles made a few chuckles through
his teeth. Mihai's father Vlad had a very blank look on his face, as if he really didn't want anyone to
know what he was thinking. Then he looked at Lydia's smiling face, and he smiled.

Once everyone had finished the meal, Lydia cleared everyone's plates and served them her
chocolate cake, telling them, “I worked really hard on this cake so you'd better lie and say it's best thing
ever.” Vlad dug into his slice the moment he had it, which made her giggle a little. She turned her face to
hide her flushed cheeks and her smirk, but she could sense that Vlad Dalca had noticed.

She got her slice and walked in the direction of her seat, but she tripped and fell onto the floor,
and her slice of cake was pressed into her chest. Her face was throbbing and burning and she really really
hated it. Tears were coming, and she hoped there was no blood. Her eyes were shut, and she didn't want to
open them yet.

Lydia heard the frightened gasps, her father calling out her name, chairs being pushed away. She
tried to get up but someone got to her before she could. Very strong hands gripped her arms and helped
her to her feet. She opened her eyes. Those same hands touched her chin and scraped away the tears.
They had slightly long fingernails, and a handsome silver ring. She stopped focusing on the hands and
looked at the person's face. It was Vlad Dalca, and Charles was beside him. That long haired man had such
a worried look on his face it almost broke her heart, and she didn't quite understand it.

“I believe your cheek kissed the floor,” he told her. Then his nose wrinkled and his frown turned
into a grin. “I am very jealous. I have yet to have a cheek kiss me. I wonder if that is a pleasant
experience.”

Lydia's winced and said in a hollow voice, “Ha ha ha. Sunteți extrem de amuzant.” You are
extremely funny.

She grimaced, but he only kept smiling at her. Then Lydia exhaled and said, “Okay, I give in. It
was very nice of you to help me up, so thanks.” That prompted Vlad to laugh that loud laugh of his, and
Lydia recoiled a bit, moving out of his grasp. Charles jumped a bit too.

Lydia went to wash her face and change into a casual pair of black jeans and a red t-shirt. The
dinner would be over soon, no need to find another dress.

She returned to the group to join her family in saying goodbye. Lydia took the chance to politely
ask for Mihai's email address, but she was very honest. “My friend Prudence thinks you're cute. She's too
afraid to ask for your email, though.”

Mihai rolled his eyes and flipped his braid, and then he took a notepad and pen from his jacket to
write down the information. “Timid girls are always amusing,” he said. Lydia wasn't sure if he sounded
genuinely amused, or annoyed, or both.
 Once she had the paper in her pocket Vlad said quietly, “Da femeia numărul dumneavoastră de
telefon. Poate că ea va avea nevoie.” Give the woman your telephone number. Perhaps she will need it.

Mihai wrote that down too and gave it to Lydia; his pen was very pretty and Lydia really
wanted one just like it. It looked like a golden fountain pen with images of gears etched into the metal.
She even gasped at it once she noticed the gears. “Nice pen! It's so detailed!”

“That is a classy pen,” agreed Delia, peering at the thing as if it was a new invention.

Lydia was surprised when Mihai told her, “Keep it, I have several.” He pushed the pen into Lydia's
hand, and she tried very hard not to jump and scream like a kid on Christmas.

“Ohhmygod thank you! It's so beautiful!” Her cheeks were hurting a bit more thanks to the
smiling, but she certainly didn't care.

***

She was trying to sleep when he called her.

Lydia had told him she'd be busy, so she wasn't sure why he was calling her.

“Hey, Babe, Lyds … Heeeey!”

She cursed, got out of bed, adjusted her plain and long nightgown, and turned on the lamp on the
nightstand. Then Lydia stepped to her standing mirror. Her reflection wasn't looking at her with a pissed
off face. A demon was standing in the mirror instead, looking at her with a happy, if grimy, face.

“BJ … Motherfucker … I was just about to fall asleep.” She rubbed an eye.

Beetlejuice stuck out a purple striped tongue and gave her the finger. Then he scratched his
flaky green and yellow scalp. “The Queen of the Vampires is in town.”
 “Well, that must mean she has business here,” Lydia said, trying to fight a headache. She
stretched her limbs. “What the fuck does that have to do with me? She's not known for causing trouble. If
anything, she's known for keeping the vampires in line.”

Beetlejuice rubbed his nose. “You've never met the bitch.” He made such a wicked grin, his uneven
dark teeth looking rather unattractive. “She causes a shitload of trouble, it's just the kind of trouble she's
allowed to do.”

“Well of course I've never met the bitch, never had a reason to, don't even know what she looks
like.” Lydia yawned and mumbled something incoherent, and then said, “Is this why you woke me up, just
to tell me this?”

“Well geez, I just wanted to warn you. If someone suddenly seems more vampirish then you'll at
least know why.” He knocked on the glass on his side with his knuckles. “I'd hit your head, but we're not in
the same world. Wake up, Lydia, this is important!”

“I know. I know. Freaking queen of blood drinking fairies is in my area. Caution needed.” She
turned her back on the mirror. “I'm going to bed.”

“Don't let anyone get near your throat,” he warned.

***

Chapter 3

Chapter 3
Fairy Tale

“Un basm.” A fairy tale.

Those were the words the low voice whispered to the dark roof of the bed's canopy.
 The voice came from a form on the bed, a very nude man, and he was in a very comfortable and
very large bed, with the bed clothes folded away, and a very nude woman passed out beside him. A single
lamp nearby allowed some light, but it was still dim for an average person.

Vlad Dalca could not find very much comfort in this comfortable bed, beside this comfortable
woman, this woman he didn't even try to hold. There was a good couple of inches between them. His great
chest heaved up in a sigh. The woman made a soft little noise in her sleep.

The woman was actually someone's wife, a trophy wife of some older man she didn't really like.
Vlad turned his body on his side to look at her. He didn't find a fault with her, except that she wasn't who
he wanted. He didn't find any fault at all with the fact that she didn't love love her husband. He did not
find a fault with her husband for taking a young woman he didn't really love, merely lusted after, and
claimed her as a wife. He didn't find a fault with her personality, her physical appearance, her scents
… she … she just wasn't …

At least she was unfashionably pale, and she had dark eyes, and a lovely healthy figure that
wasn't thin and wasn't very large … and dark eyes … innocently dark … like the earth …

“Ochii ei.” Her eyes.

Sad, sweet, funny, lovely eyes.

He gripped the woman's shoulder and pulled her to him. She woke up, blinked her eyes a few
times, and then gave him a very greedy look, with a demon's smile.

“Ești un basm fată,” he whispered to her. You're a fairy tale maiden.

She had no idea what he was saying, and didn't ask. She had always been assuming he'd been
saying graphically sexual things about her, and she liked it.

He pretended she was just a bit younger, just a bit more innocent, a little bit shorter …
pretended she didn't have a demon smile, but instead a maiden's smile.

He pressed his hand between her thighs and teased the flesh there, watching her flesh redden,
moving his eyes up to admire the lifting movements of her breasts as she panted. They were a bit too big
for his tastes, but he imagined they were a little smaller, not too small of course. He pressed a fingertip
against her hot little bud and made little circles.
 “Destul de puțin virgină.” Pretty little virgin.

He spoke softly, but with such yearning that he could imagine this was a certain pretty little
virgin he knew of. Well, she was probably a virgin. Had to be. Oh, she'd better be … Nothing he could do
if she wasn't, though … no no let's not ruin the fantasy.

She was yelping out sharp “ohs” and gripping the sheet beneath her.

“Vrei să înveți ceea ce este placerea, mica printesa?” Do you want to learn what pleasure is,
little princess?

Maybe she could guess what printesa meant, but he didn't care. He just pressed two fingers inside,
mindful of his dull but still long fingernails, and pressed and pumped and played with her. Moisture oozed
out onto his fingers, as expected. The woman's toes curled. Her toenails were delicately groomed and
painted green, which was cute, but not cute enough for him at this moment.

She moaned out how she wanted him to fuck her like an animal, how she was all ready and hot
… he liked the word fuck. It was hilarious. It sounded dirty and benign at the same time. He didn't
want to hear Lydia say it, though, at least not with him.

“Please … ooh fuck me … God . .” the woman cooed.

So Vlad gripped his shaft and pushed into the woman, and then he took her wrists and held them
above her head. As he kept pressing in and out, he grunted and hissed and growled.

“Eu voi fi tot ce vrei sa fie, o scumpa mea. Draga mea.” I will be everything you want me to be, my
Precious One. My Darling.

“Yeah … yeah yeah yeah yeah ...”

She still had no idea.

 He pressed his hand against her mouth. He really did not wish to hear her vulgar voice. It was
too old for his current tastes. She didn't seem to mind.

“Se simte ciudat și noi? Trebuie să fi uitat.” Does it feel strange and new? You must have
forgotten.

He pushed a little faster and laughed at her eyes, imagining they were afraid looking eyes.
Innocent dark eyes … afraid of all these feelings … afraid … but soon will know . .

The woman under him closed her eyes after a moment and released a muffled scream, but he
didn't stop. He didn't think he could stop at that moment. He just kept going. He was too preoccupied to
stop.

She had no idea.

***

“Did you hear about the body found in Winter River?” Lydia asked her parents at the breakfast
table the following morning. “A guy was found with his throat ripped out, drained of blood, and his penis
chopped off.”

Charles and Delia stopped eating and stared at her.

Lydia shrugged. “Well, I know that's not proper breakfast conversation, but I just read about it
and wanted to share. He was a suspect in a rape case.”

Shaking his head, Charles said, “Never before have I wanted a man to be guilty of rape, otherwise
this would be horrifying.”

Delia sipped at her coffee and murmured, “I wonder how his throat was ripped out.”

***

A few hours later, Beetlejuice was laughing his ass off on his moth-eaten sofa in his gaudy and
filfhy house. Lydia stood before him, looking really surprised.
 “This is serious. A guy got murdered!”

He slapped his knee and beamed up at the young woman. “Queen of the Vampires! I told you! He
must've done something she didn't like.”

“Like?” Lydia tilted her head a bit. She really wanted to know.

“Well, you said he was a suspected rapist? Likely he was guilty. She doesn't like rapists. She
either killed him herself or got one of her babies to do it.”

“Babies?”

Beetlejuice laughed again. “Vampires. They're her babies!”

Lydia rubber her temple with her fingers. “So this crime might go unsolved,” she said with a flat
tone.

“Any crime can go unsolved when the Queen is in town!”

“That ...” Lydia's body froze for a moment. “That … that's creepy.”

***

Chapter 4

Chapter 4
Cravings
 It was a very pleasant night, and they had to go to Mihai's “little” mansion he bought, all because
he wanted to throw a little party. That's what he called it, his little mansion. Lydia never asked the man
what he did for a living, but she suspected his father Vlad bought the mansion as a gift and Mihai was a
freeloader to the family, a loved freeloader, but a freeloader.

Lydia liked him, though. He seemed to be a sweetie.

This mansion was in the same gated neighborhood the Brewster family lived in. It was one of
those exclusive fancy places in which you have to have a legal reason to go, otherwise you'd be kicked
out. The piece of land was freaking huge. Apparently the Dalcas liked to show off, because this little
mansion was actually pretty damn big, and it was in a very modern style, all boxy and glassy and sleek
and white. There seemed to be more windows than walls, and Lydia could not stop herself from
wondering if either of the two men liked to walk around naked, and if they bothered to use curtains.
Vlad Dalca would look lovely naked, probably, maybe …

By the time they were at the entrance, Lydia had mentally slapped those thoughts out of her
head.

A butler answered the door, and they were lead to a lovely room in which the walls were white
but the furniture had basic colors from a rainbow. It seemed to be a sort of living room, with a large,
large, oh my god that is fucking huge, television set that wasn't turned on. A maid was serving sweets
and beverages. The Brewster family was there, Mr. Brewster, Mrs. Brewster, and Claire. Prudence was
there too, wearing a cute mini skirt and a blouse with a lace collar. Her mother was with her, a kind
looking woman with light red hair and a gold cross at her throat. Vlad Dalca was sitting in the largest
chair, a contemporary armchair that almost looked like half of a ball with cushions in it.

He was in another suit … damn he made suits look good … black suit with a dark blue shirt,
black tie, and another little gem on that tie. Most of his hair was draped over his shoulder and Lydia
realized she wanted to have that hair slide against her fingers. The man looked at her, and Lydia quickly
moved her eyes to look at whatever was there, and whatever was there was Claire. Claire took a moment
to look up and down Lydia's body, judging her outfit. Lydia raised an eyebrow and looked at a vase in a
corner. While Charles and Delia were greeting everyone, Lydia said out loud, “Where's Mihai?”

Vlad answered her, in that molasses-like voice of his, “He will be here soon. He wanted to show
everyone his new outfit.”

Right after he said that, Mihai entered, saying, “I am heeeeeere!”

Vlad looked at him, pressed his palm to his face, and then he made peculiar sounds, and a nearly
pained countenance. He looked as if he wanted to swallow his laughter.
 Imagine, Beloved Reader, a fully grown man wearing a knee-length lolita dress of a pinker shade
of crimson. That's exactly what appeared to these guests. He certainly wasn't the first man in the world
to enjoy lolita, not even the most famous one. He wasn't even the first to enjoy cross dressing (as most
people know), which is much much much older than lolita. Still, it was quite a sight. He even had his hair
arranged in large puffy pigtails, which were a bit old fashioned among some lolita circles, but acceptable.
He had on tall knee high socks and flat mary janes.

Claire Brewster put down her glass of juice and laughed with a high pitched shrill tone. Her
mouth looked rather wide as she did it.

Prudence squealed and skipped over to him. “You look soooooo cute!”

Mihai took her hands and said, “Honestly? You are too sweet!” Then they both did very girlish
hops, which made loud thunking sounds against the hardwood floor.

“Well . .” Delia said quietly to her husband, her face seeming to loose some elasticity, “I didn't
know he was gay. I mean, I have gay friends, you know? I don't have a problem with it … but … I
really thought . .”

Putting an arm around her shoulders, Charles whispered to her, “Yeah I know, Little Wannabe
Matchmaker.”

Mihai stopped hopping and said quite loudly across the room to Delia, “I'm not gay! I'm bisexual!
And I like pretty clothing!”

And that was when Lydia laughed louder than Claire, holding her side.

Things went fairly well. There was soft and pleasant music. Beautiful art was on display for
people to admire. People were talking. Lydia avoided Vlad Dalca the best she could, just because the man
really messed with her head, whether he did it on purpose or not.

She craved fruit at one point, so she snatched up a piece of a pineapple from a plate. There were
several fruits, including figs. She took some of those too and crammed them into her mouth.

Vlad Dalca came near her. Lydia would have said, “Oh, excuse me, Sir,” but sadly she looked like a
chipmunk.
 He looked at her with a smile that … well it was a cruel looking smile. His gray eyes didn't
exactly look cold, but they were intense.

“Figs are healthy fruits,” he told her as he took one and sliced it in half with a nearby knife. She
wasn't sure why, but she suddenly thought one of the halves was the most interesting thing in the world.
She stared at the fruit in his hand, her eyes following its journey to his mouth. Instead of popping the
half into his mouth he carefully nibbled, and Lydia's face warmed. For just a few more seconds she kept
staring until Vlad said, “You haven't been chewing.”

Lydia suddenly remembered that there was an ungodly amount of fruit in her mouth, and so she
walked off and chewed with all her might. Once she had swallowed, she thought she still felt that man's
eyes. She looked at him and saw that he was walking off into another room, possibly to use the bathroom.
Lydia decided she'd find a different bathroom and stay in there for a while.

She wandered off in the opposite direction Vlad had gone and found a bathroom. She locked
herself inside, sat on the edge of a beautiful bathtub, and tried to breathe herself into a calmer state.
Lydia stayed there for a few minutes, but soon she thought she had calmed down enough. When she was
about to get up she felt something amazing.

Something was kissing her, as if she wasn't wearing her panties.

She gasped and pulled up her calf-length gray dress, then pulled back her panties to see what the
issue was.

Nothing was there.

“The fuck?!” Lydia harshly rubbed herself through her panties, to see if there was just a weird
itch that needed relieving.

Something was licking her, probing at her …

Lydia didn't know what to do, but she did try not to moan. She failed and grabbed a towel to push
into her mouth. She curled up into a fetal position in the bathtub, and hoped whatever this was would
stop.

But it felt sooooo good … warm and wet … pushing at her and twirling onto her clitoris.
Between her thighs was the most delicious throbbing. She squeaked out into the towel, “No no no no no . .”
She pressed her thighs together and held her fist between them. It didn't stop. It intensified. This
something was sucking on her, and she loved it.
 “Hmmmmmmnn . .”

She bit at the towel. Her legs opened a little and she pushed her hand behind her panties. Her
middle finger pushed inside of her vagina and she felt her muscles contract. She screamed into the towel,
rocking her hips.

And then it stopped.

***

Charles looked around the room. “Where's Lydia?”

Vlad returned at that moment, still chewing on figs. He looked a bit dazed.

“Mr. Dalca?” Charles said to him.

“Hm?” He shook his head like a wet dog and forced himself to pay attention.

“Have you seen my daughter?”

He nodded. “I can say with no qualm that when I saw your daughter she was chewing something
near the table.”

Charles blinked at him, unsure of what to say to that. “Well … okay. Did she go to the
bathroom?”

“It's likely,” replied Vlad.

Prudence overheard them, and said to Mihai, “I hope she's not sick.”

Lydia Deetz entered the room. Her face was red, and her eyes were frighteningly wide. She
walked stiffly to a chair and sat down. Her father went to her and asked her if she was okay.
 Not even looking at him, she answered in a monotone voice, “I feel sick. I wanna go home.”

“Well, alright, Dear.” Charles held her hand and led her out of the chair and to her stepmother.
On the way, he told Mihai, “I'm sorry but Lydia's sick. We need to go.”

Mihai made a smacking sound with his mouth, as if in disapproval, but he didn't frown. He
actually said, “Take the poor thing home. We don't want her to get worse. And thank you for coming.”

***

When the sun was rising, a tired looking Mihai, wearing a simple cotton robe, entered an
elaborately decorated bedroom. He lowered thick curtains on the window, darkening the room. He took a
flask from a drawer of a nightstand and chugged the contents down. Then he slid out of his robe and hung
it on a chair. Once his nude body was cozy in his large bed, he heard a feminine voice say, “I'm going to
sleep in your house now, so don't bitch about it.”

He opened his eyes. He sat up, but saw nobody, yet he knew she was there.

***

Chapter 5

Chapter 5
The Queen of the Vampires

The moment the sun had disappeared, a woman exited a guest bedroom, and without even
bothering to turn on a light, she walked into the living room that the party had been thrown in. She sat
in Vlad's armchair and waited.

A few minutes later, a naked but not aroused Vlad walked into the room and turned on the
ceiling light.
 The woman put her bare feet on the coffee table and gave the man a bored look. She said in a dull
tone, with an accent that was a strange combination of Irish, Italian, Bostonian, English, and African
American, “You just couldn't put on some pants or a robe, eh? Would've taken up too damn much of your
precious time that I gave you?”

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

The woman groaned as if she was rather exhausted, ran her fingers through her waist length
curly hair, hair the color of blood. She stood up, and walked up to Vlad. She was much taller than him. She
was at least six feet, and very curvy, an hourglass of a woman. Her wrinkled and torn 1980s white shirt
exposed her shoulder, and her 1970s bell bottom jeans were ripped in several places, like she had been in a
fight with a beast, yet there wasn't a single scratch on her tanned caramel skin.

Her perfect oval of a face was beautiful and disturbing. Her sapphire colored eyes were almost
dead. Her delightfully straight and elegant nose didn't even wrinkle. Her round lips were not smiling.

Then it all broke away. Her eyes lit up and she giggled down at him.

Vlad gulped down some extra saliva, but otherwise he remained cool and calm.

“My Little Favorite,” she cooed to him, “why didn't you tell me you were moving?”

“I assumed you would find me. There would be no use in explaining,” explained Vlad.

She licked her very pretty and straight teeth. Then she tapped the top of Vlad's head with her
fist, just hard enough to make him say, “Ah!”

Mihai came into the room, and he had on his robe. He stayed close to a doorway, his face paling a
little.

The woman laughed at him. “Your boy has a fucking excellent memory, Little Dracula.”

Vlad took a deep breath. “When I remember your actions, I wish you had let me beat him.”

Her hands on her hips, grinning like a madwoman, she told him, “You would've hit your kiddie
hard, but I hit him correctly. Now he knows I'm not someone you should flirt so aggressively with, or at
all.” She snapped her teeth at him, and Mihai's jaw ticked. Then he slowly backed into the hallway.
 The woman then grabbed Vlad's hair, which made him grunt, but he took it well. She pulled his
face to his and she said very sweetly, “So, I'm guessing you've met the girl with that fucking messed up
soul?”

He nodded, clenching his jaw.

She released him and clapped her hands together. “Fabulous! You already have my blessing, so
have at it! Just don't go insane and kill someone she wants to smooch.”

He rubbed his scalp and exhaled. He was on very good terms with that woman, so he wasn't
exactly afraid of her, and as a “queen” she mostly let her subjects do as they pleased, key word being
mostly. Still, he knew that angering her was worse than … well worse than someone angering him.

The woman was worse than a vampire. She was a hellish angel of the apocalypse when she
wanted to be.

***

Lydia Deetz didn't know who she was supposed to talk to.

She didn't think starting therapy was worth the money and time. She was sure a chat with a
gynecologist wouldn't do much. Lydia knew enough about the human body to know what had happened to
her was physically impossible.

Nobody would believe her … not even someone from the Neitherworld. This just didn't happen
on a daily basis there. Whenever something weird did happen it was usually because of Beetlejuice, and
Lydia was positive that he didn't do anything to her.

She just didn't know … and she knew she'd be thinking about that odd incident for days and
days.

She was very pleased to know that she was registered for classes at a community college, and
she was very pleased to know that her dad had bought her a lovely little red car to drive and she
wouldn't have to use his car anymore. She was very pleased to know that Bertha and Prudence, who had
gotten their cars at 16, had never ridiculed her for getting a car two years late, and were very excited
for her.
 She was not very pleased to know that she had no idea what to do about that stupid incident.
Everything else was going so damn smoothly, perfectly, normally, except that.

She probably wouldn't be very pleased to know that one night when the Deetz family left for a
pleasant family night out, Vlad Dalca was climbing up a wall of the house, like a certain superhero. He had
a large backpack, but the weight didn't seem to be a burden.

***

The next night, Vlad Dalca lounged in a big bubbling hottub, holding a remote control that was
protected by clear plastic. He turned on a television that almost took up the whole space on the wall.

On the screen was a bedroom, neat and decorated in an adorable combination between a modern
teenager's tastes and an old fashioned princess' tastes. And there was Lydia Deetz, entering the room in a
bathrobe.

Vlad Dalca loved how technology had advanced since he was young.

***

Chapter 6

Chapter 6
Safety First

One afternoon Mihai Dalca walked into the rather futuristic looking kitchen to find that woman
sprawled on the bar table. She looked like she was dead. Mihai adjusted his sunglasses, took a soda can
from the fridge that looked like it was built into the wall, and closed the door. The woman twitched and
stretched her arms. “Heeeeeeeeeeeeyy . .” She was sleepy.

Mihai banged his head on the fridge door once and replied, “Yes?”

She didn't even move her head. “Where're you going?”

 He rubbed one of his eyes. “I'm going shopping. I will purchase many condoms, personal
lubrication, and sex toys … and food.” Food was a bit of an afterthought.

“Whhyyyyyyyyyyy?” she said with a breathy soft voice.

“Because I will throw a sex party in three days.”

The woman still didn't move off of the bar table. “Kaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay,” she said in
a sleepy attempt at saying okay. “I'll tell Draky.”

Mihai knew that this woman was alert even when exhausted, so he trusted her to do that.

Hours later, after Mihai had returned with his goods and gone to bed, the sun had gone down.
Vlad Dalca went into the kitchen wearing a pair of khaki pants and a white t-shirt. He looked at the
woman and fought the urge to poke her with a stick.

The woman snapped up into an upright position and grinned at him.

Vlad didn't really expect her to just lay there all night, so he wasn't shocked. “Good evening,” he
told her.

The first thing she said to him was, “Your boy's going to throw a sex party here in three days. I
think I'll go kill some people that day. You?”

Knowing exactly the sorts of people she liked to go kill, Vlad wasn't alarmed. He shrugged and
told her, “I could purchase all the merchandise in a jewelry store. That will never not be amusing, but I
imagine that would not take enough time.”

She tied her hair in a knot on top of her head, saying, “Admit it, Asshole, you're going to stalk
the goth chick.”

He held his hands behind his back and gave her is “I'm not amused by you” expression. “Perhaps I
want to find gifts for her.”
 She crossed her legs and leaned back a bit, a thoughtful look on her face. “If you have your way,
that girl will wear more jewelry than a Hindu bride, and every day too.”

***

Mihai had no need for condoms. STDs were not a concern. He was sterile, unless that … that
woman did something about it … and for good reason. There was no need for his kind to reproduce.

Still, he didn't want to seem irresponsible. He insisted on using condoms.

So when Mihai was on his bed, his legs raised high and his knees closer to his chest, allowing the
young man near him to penetrate his anus so deliciously, he made sure the man wore a condom, and of
course had lubrication. It was such a delicious squeezing feeling. He would have moaned out loud, but his
mouth was blocked by a beautiful black woman pressing her mouth against his, her slick tongue twirling
with his.

It was so loud in the room, music and moaning and screaming, and laughing. He was pretty sure
that someone was fucking this nice black woman from behind, but he wasn't paying enough attention to
know if it was a man or a woman with a strap on device, or what. He didn't notice much about what
everyone else was doing. There was a man and a woman tangled up near him; he knew that.

He just liked the tight invasion, the wet sounds, the way his own penis pulsed and throbbed.
Someone was nice enough to stroke it for him, and he really appreciated it.

Just a bit more … just a bit more …

Someone bit at his ankle. He lost it. He screamed into the lovely woman's mouth. Semen spurted
out of him.

***

In the dark Lydia thought she heard footsteps and so she turned on her lamp, her head moving
like a curious cat looking at an aquarium and unsure what to look at. She investigated her room but she
found nothing. She moved to turn off her lamp, but she saw something she knew wasn't hers.

Beside the lamp there was a beautiful necklace, in an open case lined with velvet. It was a thick
and bold piece, made of either white gold or silver. She didn't know which metal it was. Matching
earrings were laid above the necklace, but Lydia barely noticed them. There were so many diamonds, well
they looked like diamonds … and there was one huge dangling diamond pendant in the center of the
necklace. That rock had to be at least fifteen carats. That was fucking awesome. She wanted to believe it
was a present from her father, but really, who in her family could afford a fifteen carat diamond? What
if this thing was stolen? Lydia shook her head. How on earth did it get in her room? Well, she could just
take the thing to the police station and explain the situation. She should probably tell her parents too.
Hey, maybe it was a costume piece, and it really was a present from her father.

***

By the time Mihai had kicked everyone out he was drained and happy. He was about to go to
sleep when his cell phone rang to let him know he had an email. He noticed it was Prudence, that cute
plump girl. So he answered it.

Hello Prudence!

I'm very tired right now. I'm sorry. I will talk to you tomorrow, but I look forward to it, so
please don't think I'm ignoring you. I might ask you out to coffee.

***

Chapter 7

Chapter 7
A Sweet Lolita

He had to admit he liked this little cupcake of a girl.

She had the body of a beauty in a Renaissance painting, except with slightly more of an hourglass
than expected. That body was hidden under a lovely pale blue lolita dress she had her friend Lydia sew
together. Prudence and Mihai were sitting in a little cafe that evening. They weren't drinking coffee, as
previously suggested. They were eating gourmet donuts and drinking milkshakes. A good number of people
stared at Prudence, and Prudence blushed sometimes, but she liked her dress and so she didn't seem to feel
any shame. Sometimes, when Mihai felt someone had a particularly nasty look on their face, he would
stare back, and mouth the word, “What?” Sometimes he said the word out loud.
 “So … what exactly do you do all day?” she asked him.

Mihai shrugged and told her, “I've been doing what my father has been doing, investing in things
and … well he sold off things, he also collects rent from some people. We're very lucky. We've had very
rich grandfathers. We don't really worry about money.”

He didn't exactly lie, but he was pretty sure most of the reason why he and his father had such
fantastic financial luck was because of that woman and her advice and connections. He should be grateful,
but he still didn't like her too much.

He liked Prudence very much. She was just the cutest little button.

“So, how long will you be in America?” She was stabbing the contents of her cup with her straw,
not quite looking into his eyes, but smiling that pink smile he had to admit was cute. Her round glasses
shifted a bit, and she nudged them. So cute.

“At least a few months,” he told her, “possibly more. We've seen some very pretty sights here.”

“Peaceful Pines has a lot of pines,” Prudence said. She was taken aback by his little snort, but he
smiled at her and patted her hand.

“I know college can be difficult, so why don't you call me when you need help with homework?”

Her cheeks flushed so nicely, and she nervously tittered behind her hand. She had a cute lace
cuff on her wrist. He liked lace cuffs . . and metal cuffs.

***

“You won't take me out to dinner?” that woman said with disbelief.

Vlad really was getting tired of her. “What a fantastic idea, taking a married woman out in
public and courting her.” Hmm … well if Lydia was a married woman … he might try that …
maybe.
 They were in his bed, naked, and she wasn't under the spell that good sex often put a woman
under. She was a bit too livid to be happy and blissful. Her face was pressed by emotion into an unpleasant
visage.

“You won't even take me out? Been fucking you all this time and you won't take me out?!” Her
voice rose. Vlad had dealt with many women like this. Women were often demanding creatures, and he
understood why.

He rested his arm on his bent knee, using his other hand to turn on a television. He really loved
big television sets. There was a big television in almost every room in this mansion.

“When did I tell you I would do that?” he asked her with a very uninterested tone.

“Damn it, what am I to you?!” She threw a pillow across the room, and Vlad really didn't like it.
Only two people were allowed to throw things in his home, the queen and himself. Well … if Lydia
really wanted too … perhaps …

He got off the bed, went to the pillow, and bend down to pick it up. Then he calmly walked back to
the bed. After he put the pillow back in it's place, that woman snapped out something, but he wasn't really
paying attention to her. He was wondering if this bedroom was too masculine. He might want to change it,
make it nicer for a woman to lounge in. There wasn't a single flower in the room … there should be
flowers … and there should be a vanity table decorated with crystals.

The woman shrieked something at him, and that was when he stared at her. “Do not scream,” he
advised coolly, looking right at her eyes.

She hushed, her face relaxing, becoming serene. She didn't fight when he grabbed her shoulders.

He knew a bright red color was flooding into his irises. He felt his fangs grow out, like a
toothache only not quite as bad. He touched her jaw with his fingertips and tilted her head to one side.
She merely sighed, staring out into nothing, just as he wanted.

He sunk his teeth into her throat. It would have been appropriate if she screamed this time, but
she did not. She merely whined like a little animal. A cartoon came on TV, but he really didn't care what
it was about.
 Her blood was warm and lovely, just as he thought it would be. He took just enough gulps, and
then he did something the queen had taught him how to do. She had done this for all of her “babies” once
mortals started to suspect them more often. He moved his mouth away, bit his finger enough to get a
little blood, and wiped his own blood on the puncture wounds on the woman's flesh. The wounds healed
within a few seconds, and so did the bite on his finger.

The woman passed out into his arms.

When the woman awoke in a hospital, she was told she passed out, and she was handed a
handwritten note.

I do not care if your husband discovers what we've done.

I do not regret anything with you.
I do want you to know that I do not want to see you anymore.
Please eat well. I do want you to regain your health.
Goodbye.

***

Chapter 8

Chapter 8
A Jewel

Her parents had denied any knowledge of the jewelry that appeared in her room. Delia suggested
that Mihai had somehow put it into her room as a surprise gift. Lydia told her there was no card or
letter, so she wasn't quite so sure. Lydia called the police station to talk about the issue and to ask if any
large diamond pieces have been stolen in the district recently, or anywhere that they knew of. The
person on the phone told her that some diamond jewelry have been stolen in another town, but he didn't
think it was anything quite so large as she described. A large jewelry store had a great stroke of luck,
though, when a fabulously wealthy man came in and purchased everything they had for sale. The store
was known for high quality jewels, some of them quite large. Lydia asked who the man was, but they did
not know. She was advised not to worry too much about her surprise little gift, and if someone reports a
missing diamond necklace matching that description, then they would call her. Of course, they warned
her not to go off selling the jewelry, just in case, at least not for a while.
 Lydia refused to admit it to her parents, but she really loved this necklace. It was so regal and
showy and it really made the wearer look like a queen. She knew that because she secretly tried on the
necklace and earrings in her room with the door locked and the window covered. Sometimes she put her
hair up in a makeshift bun to admire the shape of the necklace and the sparkles against the skin.
Sometimes she walked around in the nude, with those jewels on her flesh. She liked to pretend she was a
queen who walked around naked in order to make the flashiness of the jewelry more obvious.

Then something rang in her head one afternoon as she was admiring her jewelry … Mihai's
voice. “ So please treat him like a king and you might get a diamond necklace.”

A diamond necklace . .

Lydia felt blood leave her feet, making them cold, and then blood leave her face, making it
colder.

No . . no. She shook her head. No. If he wanted to give her a necklace like this he'd give it to her,
face to face . . but that would not be appropriate of him. She knew she was almost forbidden, legally an
adult but very young when compared to him.

Oh shit.

The next day she told her father her suspicions, but he laughed at the idea.

“Sweetheart, Mihai's the one who said something about diamonds first, right? Mihai's the one who
paid so much attention to you. He must be the one who bought everything in that store, and he must be
the one who gave you that as a secret present.”

“But Dad, he went out on a date with Prudence! He's never tried to date me!”

“Well call him,” suggested Charles.

Later Lydia sat in her room and called him. He answered, but sounded pretty sleepy. “Hello?”

“Hey, Mihai? Can I ask you a weird question?”

“Why not?”
 “I found a diamond necklace. Did you sneak it into my room, and if so . . what the fuck were you
doing in my room?”

There was a pause.

Then Mihai laughed.

“How expensive does it look?”

“Expensive enough to feed a few families,” Lydia replied, drumming her fingers against her knee.
“Did you give it to me or not?!”

“Yeah, yeah. That's your graduation present,” he said, but Lydia didn't like the mirth in his voice.

“The fuck is wrong with you?! I called the damn police over this!”

“But I love leaving gifts for people to find. It's the most positive prank you can think of.”

Lydia put her palm to her face.

“Then why didn't Prudence get a gift?”

“What makes you think she won't?”

Lydia growled but said, “Well that was a very lavish gift and I do not know how to thank you.”

“I can live the rest of my life like a king by selling small box of gems my father gave me one year
for Christmas. Don't worry about it. Bye!”

He hung up on her.
 Lydia felt that she needed a bubble bath. Rich people are stressful.

***

“You are going to buy a few things for Lydia's friends and family,” Mihai had told him earlier.

Vlad understood why. It was worth it.

As a naked Lydia Deetz pranced about her room on the TV screen, a diamond necklace on her
throat, Vlad realized it was totally, one hundred percent, worth every little penny.

He felt a bit too hot and had to get out of the hottub. He sat on a chair instead.

She was so beautiful, too beautiful, delighted dark eyes and soft lips, wild black hair . . bouncing
breasts and elegantly curved hips . . excited fingers . .

He could imagine her dancing about his room, saying the most adorable things . .

“Cât de generos din partea ta!” How generous of you!

“Acest lucru mă face să mă simt colier ca un rege!” This necklace makes me feel like royalty!

“Tu mă iubești atât de mult! Vreau să arăt toate femeile cum mă iubești! Du-mă la o
petrecere, te rog? Te rog? Vor fi tot atât de gelos atunci când văd acest diamant!” You love me so much! I
want to show all the women how you love me! Take me to a party, please? Please? They'll all be so jealous
when they see this diamond!

His hand went to his shaft when he thought of her putting her arms around him . .

And then that woman burst into the room.

He yelped and put a towel around himself.

 “Hey Vlad,” said the woman, “where are your weapons? I feel like stabbing something with a . .”
Her sentence faded away as she looked at the screen, her eyes bulging a bit. “This isn't going to end up on
the Internet, right?”

Horrified at that idea, he shook his head and said firmly, “Never!”

She rubbed her temple and looked at the floor. “She doesn't know about this.”

“Obviously not,” he said.

“This is disturbing,” said the woman.

“You are disturbing,” retorted Vlad.

She looked at the television and pursed her lips. “I'll give you that one, but man, you will delete
this … is it live?”

“No.”

“Good, now you will delete these recordings.”

He stood up as he tied the towel on his waist. “Why? She will never know.”

“This is a severe invasion of privacy.”

“You invade my privacy, often, and sometimes for the most trifling reasons!” His voice was quite
loud, but the woman did not flinch.

She rocked a bit on her feet, considering his words. Then she halted her movements and said, “She
may not find out, and once you have her as a wife you will delete these videos.” She sucked at her teeth
and walked off, muttering something like, “Why do you have to be my favorite?”

***
Chapter 9

Chapter 9
Anything You Desire

On a Saturday morning, Lydia Deetz sat on a bench in the beautifully lit garden at the castle of
Prince Vince, the beloved young ruler of the Neitherworld. Prince Vince was sitting next to her, looking
simply elegant in his dark outfit. Beetlejuice was sitting in a nearby rocking chair, rocking rather hard
and liking the motion.

“It's quite a fantastic story,” Vince told Lydia as he admired the necklace she was wearing.

Beetlejuice nodded. “Rich people sometimes pull weird shit, but this is a fucking big rock.”

Vince agreed, a pointing at the pendant with a his long pale green finger. “This does seem rather
expensive, very expensive, but I do not know very much about Earth diamonds.” He gave Lydia a kind
smile. “But, you certainly are worth all the jewels in every world.”

Lydia had to blush at that.

Before she left the Neitherworld, Beetlejuice whispered to her, “Hey, if you need me, you know
how to get me.”

She nodded. She'd been getting him for years now. She wasn't going to forget how anytime soon.

***

That Saturday evening Lydia was very happy, because some time ago Mr. Brewster told Charles
that he may bring his daughter to his party, and the party would happen this evening.
 Lydia wanted that vain little bitch Claire to see her brand new fifteen carat diamond pendant
necklace that showed off multiple other diamonds just for the sake of bling! She had a history with that
girl.

So, Lydia chose a long fitted strapless dress of dark red to wear. The skirt flared at a teeny bit
below mid thigh, bringing attention to her figure. She felt that her neckline was a bit low. Just little of
her cleavage was showing. Lydia didn't mind too much; it would only make her necklace look that much
more glamorous.

Lydia put her hair into an unusual hairstyle, well unusual for her. Normally she went for a
messy look, but tonight she tried something smoother. She wrapped some hair in a high bun and adjusted
some locks to look as if they were resting against the bun in swirl shapes. She let the rest of her hair rest
loose and free, but curled. It was a bit difficult for her to do, and there were a lot of gel and pins
required for it, but she did it and she was proud.

She put a towel over her chest and shoulder to protect her dress and blended light powdered
foundation onto her face, to hide any imperfections. Carefully she drew an outline on her lips with lip
liner, and then painted her lips the deepest, shiniest, reddest red she could find. Then she tossed the
towel aside.

Her black panty hose clad feet fit nicely in her black six inch stilettos. She didn't plan on doing
any dancing or running, so she thought, “Why not?” Her dress was long, but not too long for showing off
her shoes.

Carefully she put on her diamond necklace and her earrings, and then she took a moment to
examine her reflection. She looked like a red carpet celebrity. She grabbed her little black purse and put
her lip gloss inside it.

When she met her parents downstairs they applauded and extolled her. Delia asked them to wait
a moment, and she ran upstairs. She returned to put a delicate diamond bracelet on Lydia's wrist and a
diamond ring on her finger. “Your father gave me these for Christmas, remember?”

***

In the special gallery of the Brewsters, party guests paid regard to the art collection, and
talked to each other, drinking various beverages and enjoying various little foods, listening to classical
music. Everyone who greeted the Deetz took a moment to look at Lydia's necklace. Some of them looked at
her bosom too, but Lydia pretended they were looking at her necklace.

At one point, Claire Brewster, the thin and well dressed daughter of the host, approached her,
with two of her friends, or as Lydia called them in her mind, fashion accessories.
 “Nice to see you!” she said, smiling a bubble gum pink smile that made Lydia think of a plastic doll.
Lydia felt that she had to be a bitch; she had to look up and down Claire's body and examine her outfit.
The young heiress was wearing a knee-length pink and black zebra print dress with spaghetti strap
sleeves. Claire did have diamonds on. Diamonds are classic jewels. Claire had what looked to be a five
carat ring, and a faint string of diamonds around her neck with a diamond pendant, also five carats in
appearance. Her blonde hair was styled in a side bun with braids.

“Claire, I haven't seen you a long time, you look so healthy. Have you gained a little weight?” She
smiled her prettiest smile, and she heard Delia snort. In reality, Lydia thought a little weight would do
Claire some good, but of course Claire would not have agreed.

Claire's beautiful blue eye twitched. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” she told Lydia.

“Oooh really?” Lydia tried to sound a little excited, and she made a show of testing the weight of
her breasts with the backs of her hands. “I thought I felt a little more womanly.” Her father snuffed out
a laugh with his palm.

To Lydia's mild discomfort, Vlad Dalca, of all people, appeared. He smiled at Lydia, and took a
second to look at her necklace. Lydia hoped her skin wasn't as flushed as it felt. “It is a pleasure to see all
of you again,” he said quite politely, nodding once. “Have any of you seen my son? When I last saw him, he
was flirting with one of the servers.”

Delia told him they just arrived, and after she said that Mihai snuck up from behind her and said
in a purposely creepy slasher voice, “You smell like my mother's bed.”

Of course Delia jumped and gasped at that, and then everyone except Claire and Vlad laughed at
Mihai. Mihai bowed to them all. “Thank you! I do love my little jokes!” His hair looked very nice, loose and
free. Lydia was reminded of a modern concept of an elf. He looked at Lydia and said, “Lydia, that necklace
is fantastic! I need it! I'll buy it from you and give it to a girl I like!” He put his hands together in a
pleading gesture. “Name your price.”

Charles gave him a confused look, but he seemed to be accepting of this strange act and he said
nothing. Delia raised one of her well groomed eyebrows, but didn't say anything, like her husband. Lydia
wasn't exactly sure what the man was trying to do, but she played along. “Mihai, I can't sell this necklace,
it was a gift.”

Mihai straightened his shoulders and smirked as he inquired, “Who loves you so much, to give
you that?”

Lydia was starting to suspect he was flirting with her, but she just didn't get any sexual signals
from the weirdo. She told him, “A secret admirer.”
 Vlad invaded the conversation by saying in a sincere voice Lydia really didn't like, “This secret
admirer must love you so deeply.” Then he stepped closer. “May I please examine the pendant?”

She didn't know how to say no, so she moved her hands back to undo the necklace and hand it to
him. Vlad beat her to it by reaching out and lifting the jewel up slightly, bending down somewhat to look
at it. Lydia placed her palm onto her cleavage, not that the man couldn't have just looked at it before
… but she really felt like she needed protection. She turned her head to look up at her father. Charles
had a surprised look on his face, but he shrugged and whispered in her ear, “If he touches you, kick him in
his balls.”

Vlad dropped the pendant and backed away, a very satisfied and firm smile on his face. “I have
invested in many gems, and I must tell you that is a diamond of excellent quality and beauty. Your secret
admirer must love you with a terrible intensity. He would certainly give you anything you desire.”

Claire Brewster whispered something to one of her friends, and then she made an excuse to
leave. As the three girls left, Mihai said to Delia, “I thought that little show would make her leave.”

Charles gawked at him. “What? That was all a joke? All of it?”

Vlad answered for his son. “The brief times we were around her were not pleasant. We did not
want her to think she would be the center of attention with us, because she talks far too much about
herself when she can. I did not expect her to leave so quickly. I had imagined she would try to talk about
herself or insult Lydia.”

Mihai grinned with almost evil delight. “I've heard her say very nasty things to other women
too. I didn't want to give her the chance to think of anything.” She flipped his hair like a diva. “I once
heard her call Prudence a chunk of lard in a baby's dress. I did not approve.”

“Yeah, she's not known for being very nice,” agreed Charles. He patted Lydia's shoulder. “I'm lucky
I got a sweetie here.”

“A treasure,” Vlad told him, “Now, where is that stick woman's father?”

Mihai said with a voice that was a bit too amused, “He is on top of a woman in a bathroom.”

Crossing her arms and pointing out a hip, Lydia quirked her eyebrow and expressed her
suspicions. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Mihai raised a defensive hand and turned his head a little. “I don't gossip much . .”
 “Yes. Yes he does gossip much,” insisted Vlad in monotone.

Lydia then heard a quiet but long and overly dramatic story about how Mihai, innocent little
Mihai (but she suspected there was nothing very innocent about him) was assaulted by strange carnal
sounds as he walked by a bathroom, and how he was too curious so he opened the door a little.

“Why didn't they lock the door?” Delia asked, her face pressed by suppressed laughter.

“It's a common mistake,” Mihai said, “Sometimes I forget to lock the door.”

“Sometimes,” Vlad said as if what he was saying was extremely important, “he forgets to lock the
door.” Then he tightened his jaw and sternly looked at his son. Mihai pursed his lips, but his eyes were
bright.

Lydia shook her head from mild irritation at the amusing people and decided to wander off from
the group. There was a very vivid painting nobody was standing near; she studied the pretty thing. It
really was quite lovely.

Why was it a bit darker … and why did her face feel cooler?

A hand … a cool hand was touching her face. She froze in her spot.

Lovingly the fingers slid up and down her cheek, then her throat. Lydia shivered. Another hand
moved down her waist. She looked down and only saw a shadow in the shape of a hand, defying all logic.
Lydia tried to turn her head to find the source of the shadow, but her head was pushed back, her eyes
went back to the painting.

This time she knew it wasn't an itch.

The shadows took her hips in their grasp and squeezed affectionately. Instinctively hit her hips
with her fists, and the shadows recoiled. She ran out of the room, into a hallway, her breath suddenly
feeling cold and painful in her throat. She needed to call him, somewhere nobody could see, somewhere
nobody could hear.
 She thought she saw a large shadow fly beside her on a wall, and that made her squeak out,
“Futu-i!” Fuck it!

Lydia found a veranda and ran onto it, slamming the door shut behind her. She blurted out,
“Beetle–”

She was interrupted by the hand shaped shadow covering her mouth. It felt just like a cold hand.

Then she was pushed, and she fell face first into an outdoor lounge chair. Her mouth was pressed
into the cushions, quieting everything she screamed out. Her dress was pulled down a little, exposing her
nipples. Lydia kicked and squirmed but a great weight kept her pinned.

Icy fingers pinched and pulled at her nipple; her hidden core pulsed and wept at the tugging
sensations. She moaned into the cushions. Then her breast was pressed and squeezed, and as peculiar as it
was, the hands didn't feel cold anymore. They were warm.

Lydia heard the skirt of her dress being ruffled, and then felt it being pulled up her legs.

Oh no.

She fought harder, tried to move her head so she could call Beetlejuice, but she just couldn't win
against this strength. Her panty hose was slowly slid down to her knees. Lydia sobbed.

A finger stroked her against her panties, focusing on her clitoris. Her hips rocked and she
moaned. Damn, why did it feel so good?

A few moments passed on, and she just kept crying out at the pleasure, the hot pulsing. Her
panties had gotten moist, and she thought if she was going to be assaulted by some supernatural creature,
at least she should enjoy the nicer parts of it. Lydia forgot she could call Beetlejuice. Her thighs were
tingling and jerking, and she didn't want it to stop. Greedily she spread her legs as much as she could,
considering she had panty hose hindering her.

The harsh sound of cotton being ripped alerted her to the fact that her panties were being torn
away. The force holding her head down relented. She moved her head to one side and moaned out,
“Oooooooooooohh pleeeease … ”
 She heard the growl of a beast. It frightened her, but when she felt a finger sink into her vagina
she clawed at the cushions. “God … yes …”

It was assertive as it pushed in, but careful too, and the pad of the finger rubbed against her g-
spot. A small part of her recognized a long fingernail, but she didn't think about it. She mewled and
begged. Her breast was squeezed again, and she thought she'd go insane. She pushed her face back into the
cushions and screamed. It kept building and building, and the finger kept digging in faster and faster.

“Aagh … yeah … Hhmmm!”

Her muscles squeezed around the finger and her body shook. She tore a little bit of the cushion's
fabric.

Then it was gone.

“God …” It took Lydia a few minutes to try to get up. Her hands were trembling like a very old
woman's, but she managed to pull her panty hose back up. As she put her dress back to its rightful shape
on her body, she searched for her panties. They had to be somewhere …

Her heart angrily burst in her throat when she couldn't find them after five minutes. Torn or in
perfect condition, leaving behind a wet pair of panties in someone's home wasn't typically polite.

Lydia's eyes and nose heated up and she cried. She sat back on the lounge chair and said between
sobs, “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!”

***

Chapter 10

Chapter 10
Alarm
 He appeared in a swirling gray mist, sparkling in the light from the windows of the mansion. The
mist transformed into dull smoke, and then his form took shape. He wore his classic striped suit, although
he looked a bit dustier than usual, which was saying something.

“Babe? Why are you crying?” One of his eyes literally grew larger than the other as he examined
her. “Hey … your pretty lip gloss is a mess.”

It was on the lounge chair too … but Lydia wasn't thinking about that. She was too busy crying
into her hands.

Very slowly, Beetlejuice lowered himself onto a chair, and he sighed. “Babe? What happened?”

“Something … something is out to get me!” She spied her purse on the floor, and she picked it up.
Lydia held the purse in her lap, and wailed a bit more.

Beetlejuice gripped his knee rather tightly. His irises glowed, multicolored swirls floating in
them. “What happened? Why didn't you call me?” His voice had a fresh gruffness she wasn't accustomed
to.

“I . .” How the fuck was she supposed to explain why she didn't when she could have? She rubbed
her eye and then she hugged herself. “Shadows were touching me . .”

“Shadows?” His eyes cooled to their normal coloring, and he spoke more gently. “Lydia, you're
really scared; I don't like it. Shadows? That shit doesn't happen around here.”

“I was pushed into the lounge chair. I came here to call you put they just pushed my face into
the chair!” She was starting to sound high-pitched and harsh.

“Okay okay … are you hurt?”

She sniffed and made a watery sound with her throat.

Beetlejuice laced his fingers together at his knees as he bent over. “Lydia, are you hurt?”
 “They touched me … they touched me ...”

“Oh.” His hand went to his mouth, and he stared at her for some seconds. “Are you bleeding?”

“I don't think so. I don't feel any pain.”

“Still scary as fuck, though.”

She nodded.

“Lydia, do you want a hug or do you want me to hurry up with the advice?”

“Give me the fucking advice,” she hissed out.

He made a show of stretching his limbs and then he grunted. “Either a ghost is messing with you,
or a sorcerer, or a vampire sorcerer.”

“Huh?” Lydia crossed her legs, wanting her thighs to feel very very closed. “I don't ...”

“The Queen might help out.”

“The Queen?”

“I can get Prince Vince to contact her from the Neitherworld. If a vampire has been messing
with you, she'd stop it. If not, she'd at least tell us who to talk to.”

She almost threw up a bit in her mouth. “What if she's the one who–”

Beetlejuice shook his head. “She doesn't do this shit. Sneak into a prison and start killing the most
violent inmates in their sleep, fuck yeah. Harass little average Joe, uh Jane, no. She's probably heard
about you, though. One of the few mortals allowed to regularly visit the Neitherworld. She'd definitely
not want to harass you.”
 “Why not?”

He stood up and tugged on his jacket. “You have a reputation for being a goody goody. She leaves
those types alone.”

“Lydia, where are you?” called out Mihai's voice from nearby.

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice,” Lydia whispered as rapidly as possible. The lovable demon
faded away. Mihai opened the door and found her.

“Lydia … your face is something of a disaster,” he told her, reaching out to take her hand.
Lydia took it and let him help her up.

“I fell and hurt my ankle, landed on the chair,” she lied. Lydia tried to give him a convincingly
pleased look. “I'm fine, though, doesn't even hurt now. I'm glad you found me. I was just feeling alone.”

“Then why did you come out here?” He sounded somewhat exasperated with her explanations.

“Well, after that joke you played on Claire, I figured nobody really loves me so much.” She
hugged him, which made the man say woah, but he hugged her back. “But you came looking for me. I bet my
parents didn't come looking for me. Now I know someone really does care about me!”

Gingerly he patted her back, telling her, “You are insane and I don't know if I like it.” He made a
soft sniffing sound and then expressed disgust. “Why do I smell something filthy? Like an old gym bag?”

Beetlejuice … Lydia was used to that smell … not that she didn't try to keep herself clean.
She giggled. “You're rich, so you should know rich people are weird. There's probably a collection of gym
bags under the veranda!”

“Awww you're so weird. You should be rich,” he told her, and then he hugged her a bit more
earnestly. Lydia certainly did not notice that he looked out into the darkness, and saw a very tall figure
watching them. He muttered, “Femeile sunt foarte ciudat.” Women are very weird.

Lydia told him, “Yeah yeah, women are weird, says the cross-dressing brolita from Romania who
doesn't even sound like a Romanian.” She pulled back from him to pinch his cheek. She really thought he
was cute at that moment, with a startled eyes and tightly closed mouth.
 “Come on, you need to fix your makeup,” he said in a coaxing but low tone, a little bit more like his
father would've said it.

Once her face was looking its best again, Mihai escorted her back to the party. On the way Lydia
overheard Claire Brewster talking to someone, about Lydia's “obviously fake piece of shit rock.” Mihai
heard it too, and he had such a snarl on his face. Lydia was almost afraid.

She was surprised when Mihai steered her over to Claire, but she didn't resist him. They stopped
right behind her, and Mihai said quite loudly, “What a filthy liar!”

Claire jumped from the sound of his voice, and so did the people she was talking too, including her
fashion accessory friends. Lydia just looked at him with her mouth agape.

He didn't give her time to submit a verbal reply. He continued, “Is your father finished fucking
that woman in the bathroom? I want to go tell him that my father and I refuse to come to any of his
parties that you attend.”

“Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?!” Claire hollered at him, moving her shoulders and
chest in a way that made Lydia think of an angry bird.

Lydia really wondered why he was so angry. Yeah, she was a bitch, but she hadn't done anything
to him specifically.

“And since you mentioned 'obviously fake,' why don't you talk about your tan? Have you heard
about the sun? It's great, and it doesn't cake on your skin like trashy makeup!”

And with that statement in the air, Mihai pulled on Lydia's arm and took her away from them.
She heard Claire spitting out curses, and the people around her trying to calm her down, but Lydia didn't
look back at them. Instead she looked up at Mihai. “Why are you so pissed? She's a bitch, but … wow. She
was a real bitch to me when we were kids in school, but you didn't know that.”

Mihai's face was a bit red, but he gave her a friendly smile. “I once dated a girl like her. I know
how those types are. It's not over, and I'm prepared to kick her ass.”

Lydia remembered when Claire sabotaged a stage audition of hers when they were younger. She
also thought of when Claire misled her friends when they were trying to go perform at a concert. As
Lydia walked with Mihai back to her family, she pondered over the time when Claire played golf with
her and cheated so very much.
 She hadn't changed much over the years, and Lydia still disliked her. She wondered if she should
even be complaining.

For a moment, she almost forgot about that frightening incident on the veranda. She liked that
she could almost forget. Maybe she can force herself to actually forget.

***

Chapter 11

Chapter 11
Threats and Comforts

Beetlejuice was sunbathing on his roof when she came to his house. She called out from his front door,
“Hey, your Prince called me!”
He shot up and looked down to see the tall woman with tanned skin and blood colored hair. “Brunhilde!”
He jumped off of his roof and slammed his feet into the ground below. He stretched out his hand and said,
“Sup?”
She was only a few inches taller than him, but she looked down on him as if he was much shorter. She
looked at his filmy hands with bloodstained fingertips and said, “No.” Brunhilde took a step backwards.
“Filthy little . .” She shivered, horror on her face. “I don't want to waste time with you, so tell me, Lydia
Deetz; that's her name?”
He nodded. “The girl who walks between two worlds, my buddy.”
Brunhilde looked at one of her nails, which looked too strong to break. “Okay, so you think one of my
babies has been fucking around with her?”
“Uh yeah.” Beetlejuice said, pulling on his comical looking swim-trunks. “MY baby was sexually assaulted.
I'm an asshole, but that's a real dick move.”
“Was she raped?”
“She didn't give any details. She just said she was touched, and she wasn't in any pain.”
Brunhilde exhaled. Her face became cool. “Well that's a comfort. He said something about shadows?”
“Yeah. I thought it had to be one of your babies.”
Brunhilde turned around and walked off, saying, “Tell her I'll make her life easier.”
He couldn't help it. He thought he had to say it or else he'd burst with laughter. “Tell It I said I'm sorry
for my whole existence!”
“It?” Brunhilde halted for a moment, shouting out, “It knows and loves everyone!” Then she kept walking.
Beetlejuice felt pretty confident.
***
“I know, my little baby … I know you're hurting, and I know you're also delighting in hope. I know.
But the little black lamb is a tender one …
Sometimes you just can't stop yourself.
You just want to grab her.
I saw you grab her too … too roughly.
I saw what you did.
I didn't like it.
Then someone complained to me.
I won't say who yet.
Oh … my baby.
I swore on my soul that I would help you, because you are my favorite.
I have so much invested in you.
When you died a second time, didn't I save you?
Didn't I give you another chance?
I'd be so upset if you died.”

Vlad had not expected the queen to speak so gently to him.But when she stabbed his throat with a
railroad spike knife, twisting it and pouring in salt to increase the pain, he knew she was still sane.
As she healed his rather serious wound with her own dripping blood, she cooed him to sleep.
There wouldn't even be a scar; he knew that.
He wished she would tell him who complained to her.
He made a mental note to ask Lydia if she had any interesting friends, when she trusted him.

***
On a Monday morning Charles Deetz received a disturbing phone call from his brother. His father had died
in Las Vegas; a heart attack got him. He told his family at breakfast.
Delia asked, “Do you want to go to his funeral?”
“I'd rather not,” he admitted.
He didn't have a very good relationship with his father. All Lydia knew about her grandfather was that
the man was a bit of a gambler.
Charles' face looked pale, and Lydia wasn't sure why. She asked him if he was sick. He gave her the
shakiest smile and told her he was fine.
***
“Am primit un telefon de la Charles Deetz,” Vlad told his son and the queen that evening. I received a call
from Charles Deetz.
They had decided to take a peaceful and almost normal dinner together in the kitchen. Sometimes sipping
warm blood from a wine glass was appropriate for him. This was one of those times.
Mihai looked up from his plate. “Credeți că el a găsit ceas de aur m-am ascuns?” Did he find that gold
watch I hid?
“Da, el a găsit ceasul. El a constatat, de asemenea, brosa lui Delia. A încercat să te sun. Telefonul dvs.
trebuie să fi fost oprit.” Yes, he found the watch. He also found Delia's brooch. He tried to call you. Your
phone must have been turned off.
Mihai looked back at his plate and stabbed his food.
“Cine ai fost al naibii de?” the queen asked him enthusiastically, as if it was her business. Who were you
fucking?
Mihai didn't answer her, and she didn't press him.
Vlad didn't care what Mihai had been doing at the time. He continued with the important matter. “El a
întrebat dacă ar fi jignit dacă el a vândut darurile, inclusiv colier lui Lydia.” He asked if you would be
offended if he sold the gifts, including Lydia's necklace.
Both Mihai and Brunhilde looked at him with the most confused eyes he had seen them have in a long
time. “Sunt brusc săraci?” Mihai asked. Are they suddenly poor?
“El nu a explicat,” Vlad said. He did not explain.
“Ai o șansă de a te răscumpere, Vlad,” Brunhilde told him, sounding like a mother. You have a chance to
redeem yourself, Vlad. “Familia are o problemă. Rescue le.” The family is having a problem. Rescue them.
“Îl voi invita la un restaurant mâine.” I will invite him to a restaurant tomorrow.
***
It was a very high class restaurant. Charles Deetz didn't exactly look out of place in it. He just looked
very nervous and tired. An unusual amount of darkness was under his eyes.
When he sat down at the small table in a corner with Vlad Dalca he smoothed down his pants and shirt
and even smoothed down his napkins. His knee bounced. Vlad remained serene.
“Thanks again for dinner,” Charles said, looking at his knuckles as if they had been injured recently and he
wanted to examine a scar.
“How else am I to act towards a newly discovered friend?” Vlad told him.
He tried to keep Charles calm by telling him pretty things, and when they received their food Vlad
mentioned Lydia. “Your daughter is a little delight. I know you have pride in her.”
Charles nodded, but he seemed to tremble.
Vlad called a waitress to refill Charles' glass, and when she was gone he told Charles, “Mihai was
embarrassed to learn that he did not receive your call, but we both wonder if you are having a serious
problem. We know you want to dote upon her, and to sell the necklace she adores … that seems very
peculiar.” His voice lowered. “Are you having financial problems? Is there a way I could help you?”
That was Charles' breaking point. He sunk his face into his palms and whimpered. “The worst part . .” He
seemed afraid to say too much. “The worst part . .”
Patiently Vlad waited.
“Poor Lydia,” Charles blubbered, earning the attention of quite a few people. Vlad ignored their stares.
“Lydia ...” the sad father said again, “She could be sold into . .”
Knowing exactly what it usually meant when the word sold was involved with a beautiful young woman,
Vlad gripped the edge of the table. His chest felt like foam was expanding in it, and his whole body
wanted to shake but he stopped himself from showing his anger.
“Explain,” he growled out at him.
“Here? Can we go somewhere private?” He pushed his fingers down a little to show Vlad his pleading
brown eyes.
“I will take you to a brothel if you want, but you will explain this problem.”
***

Chapter 12

Chapter 12
Opportunity

Something was happening.

There was an impatient feeling in her heart.
Something was happening, and she didn't know what it was.
She saw fading images of colorfully dressed people, dancing and laughing.
There was a combination of scents, apples and roasted salty meant, colognes and perfumes, silks
and coiffures, melting candles and drafts sneaking in.
She felt like she was there, moving about, and laughing.
 There was a knock on her bedroom door.

It was dark, fairly quiet, and she was in her bedroom. She really wanted to know when she fell
asleep in the first place. She had been tossing her body and jostling her pillow, her body aching from
trying to find some sort of physical comfort. No matter how exhausted she got she just couldn't sleep. So,
when she woke up, she wondered exactly when she had fallen asleep.

She decided it had to be late at night at this point, and she believed she had no business trying to
get out of bed, so she ignored the knock on her bedroom door. Whoever was behind her door knocked
again, louder, and Lydia thought she would cry. She was still quite tired.

Her father's voice called out, “Sweetheart? It's kind of an emergency.”

Convinced at that moment that her father needed to be yelled at, Lydia slowly got up and
stretched her muscles. The man knocked again. “Lydia?”

She barked out, “I'm coming!” That qualified as yelling in Lydia's mind, and so she thought she'd be
sweet from then on. She found her slippers and her bathrobe. Then she quit the room.

Charles was right there in the hallway, looking as shitty as she felt, wearing a somewhat formal
outfit. “Hey Lydia,” he said to her, not even trying to smile, “Go get your pretty diamond necklace and
earrings.” Well … that was an odd request. Lydia sensed that she was in some sort of trouble, but she
knew she had done nothing bad. So she got the case the jewelry rested in, and when her father put an arm
around her shoulders she leaned into him.

He took her downstairs to the living room, where Vlad Dalca was sitting in an armchair so
tranquilly that Lydia wondered if the man ever had a bad day. “What's going on?” Lydia whined.

Charles sat her down on a sofa and sat down beside her. He pulled her back to him so she could
lean on him again. “Sweetie, we need to sell your necklace. We need the money.”

At first Lydia felt a cold ball of disappointment tickle her stomach, but the mentally screamed
at herself, “Don't be greedy! He needs the money!”

“Okay . .” She yawned and snuggled her face into her father's chest, closing her eyes and pushing
the case onto his lap. “Did you borrow money from Mr. Dalca or something?”
 “Well … I might have to . .” He stroked Lydia's messy head. “We're in some trouble. I wanted to
tell you ASAP. What we get for this jewelry will be a lot, a whole lot, but it won't really be enough. I'm
going to sell the things Mihai gave Delia and I too, but I don't think even that would be enough.”

“How much trouble are we in?” she asked with a yawn.

His arm around her tightened. Lydia only pushed closer into his nice cozy body. She really was
sleepy, alert enough to know what was going on, but sleepy.

“You know how your grandfather, my dad, was a gambler?”

Lydia groaned. “How much debt did he leave behind?”

“Honey … he messed up … got involved with a mob.”

There was a moment where nobody said anything.

Lydia hugged her dad. Her chest was very cold and shaky, and her head hurt. “Dad … when
people say you can never get out of debt with the mob … they're joking right?”

Vlad said something for the first time. “No.”

“But . .” Lydia said as she looked up at her father's face. “This mob is far away, right? They don't
have connections here … right? They can't get away with hurting us here.”

“They will still come,” Vlad said gently. “Their base is in New York. You once lived there. You
know it is not far from Connecticut.”

Charles moved his head like he wanted to nod, but was too tired. “It's a fairly new family, the
Passerinis. My siblings don't live in New York anymore, so they'll come after me first. That why they
called me, to give me a heads up.”
 “Oh.” That was all Lydia could think of to say.

“Lydia,” Vlad said, lacing his fingers together and looking at her wilting face, “If they receive all
the money they are due, including the interest, they could still find excuses to use you all. Sometimes
that happens with some mafias, while others simply take their money and leave you alone.”

“What do we do?” Lydia whispered.

“We're going to get them their money,” Charles told her, “and wait and see. I don't want to piss
them off and call the cops. They could shoot me in the head and take you and Delia into the sex trade if
they wanted.”

And that was when Lydia thought she was going to throw up and weep simultaneously. Luckily,
Charles hugged her and kissed her face, making her feel just better enough to not do that. “I know, Lydia.
It's scary. I'm scared too. Delia will be scared when I tell her. It's just terrifying.”

“If they hurt you,” Vlad said with a very placid smile and calm eyes, “I will cause interesting
problems for them.”

Both Charles and Lydia took a break from their affectionate father/daughter snuggling and
looked at Vlad. “What?” Charles said.

“What?” Lydia also said.

Vlad's expression did not alter, but he did stand up and walk over to where Lydia sat with her
father. He reached down and took her hand, which shocked her, but didn't quite frighten her. His hand
was just rough enough to feel manly. He kissed the back of her hand, and his mouth was just soft enough to
feel delicious. She shivered, and she hoped her dad didn't notice. Vlad held her hand in his as he told her,
“I know what I am saying is difficult for you to believe, but I swear to you that I will protect you, even
if I must leap into a volcano.”

Suddenly Lydia understood that he really wasn't too creepy, and a smile kissed by tears
stretched out on her face.

Vlad chuckled very softly, like some sort of laughing little bear. “I should buy a better necklace
for you. That diamond is too small.”
 Charles gripped his daughter a little tighter, but he made himself laugh.

***

Holy.
Shit.

Lydia received a package two days later.

It came with a note-card, handwritten.
It was the most beautiful handwriting she had ever seen, as if the man only knew how to write
in calligraphy.

Dragi Lydia,

Am înțeles că trebuie să fi fost atât de speriat. Vă rugăm, încercați să nu fie speriat.

Tatăl tău și cu mine am adunat banii. Aici este colierul am promis să-ți dau. Sper că cele 20 de
carate in cea mai mare diamant sunt satisfăcătoare.

Dearest Lydia,

I understand you must have been so frightened. Please, try not to be frightened. Your father and
I have gathered the money. Here is the necklace I promised to give you. I hope the 20 carats in the
largest diamond are satisfactory.

Lydia thought this thing could be a murder weapon.

One carat diamonds could be expensive, depending on the cut and quality … that fifteen carat
diamond necklace she had given to her father, and the earrings, were ghosts of a princess' dream. This
thing Vlad Dalca had given her was ridiculous. Clearly, the man wanted to show the fuck off. How the
hell could he possibly have this much money?
 The thing looked like lace, lace made of diamonds, and a metal she was certain was white gold.
Lydia put the necklace on, not quite believing how bipolar her luck was. It covered part of her throat like
a collar, and continued down to her bosom. There were so … so … so many white diamonds, big and
small. The largest one was in the center, round cut, twenty carats.

Oh my … there were matching drop earrings … and two bracelets … and a ring!

Delia nearly fainted when she saw the jewelry set. Charles gaped at the set as if he wasn't sure
how to feel.

She got Vlad Dalca's cell phone number from her dad. “I can't just accept this kind of gift from
him,” she told her father after she had it written down, “not after all he's done. I mean, come on, there
are bracelets and a goddamn ring! I'm gonna tell him to take them back.”

Charles grabbed her by her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “Lydia, do not piss this guy off.”

She stepped away from him and tilted her head in an attempt to be cute. “No worries. I'm just
going to be humble and sweet and try to convince him that I don't need all this stuff.”

He rubbed his hands together like he was cold. “Lydia, I think he wants to fuck you.”

Lydia put her hands to her heart, trying to keep it from jumping out of her chest. “Don't joke like
that.”

“I'm serious.” Charles pressed his lips together like he had a toothache for a few seconds, and then
he said, “I don't think he'll try to rape you … but … well this guy looks like he's used to getting what
he wants, and he might have connections to some bad people.”

“Well, you said you think he won't try to rape. What are you afraid of?”

“I'm afraid of you losing your independence before you even have a chance to get it. You're not
trophy wife material. You're CEO material.”

He had a point.
 ***

Lydia called him three times before he answered, and he sounded sleepy. It was lunchtime. Lydia
was taking a break from eating her meal on school campus. Vlad sounded slightly tired on the phone, but
he spoke very warmly.

“Lydia, when I sent the gift to you, I did not expect rejection.”

“But, man, this is too much. I feel embarrassed. You've been so good to us! I'm not the type to take
advantage of people's kindness.”

“If you want to return the jewelry, then come to me this evening. I will be here.”

“Well … ” Lydia hesitated, but then she said, “Okay.”

She didn't tell her parents about it, not that they didn't trust her. Lydia was accustomed to
coming and leaving as she pleased.

She just … the man had given so much … and … how could she reject him?

***

Chapter 13

Chapter 13
You Have My Attention

Her luck wasn't just bipolar. It was insane, expensive gift, then sexual assault from an unknown
supernatural force, receiving word from Beetlejuice that the freaking Vampire Queen would stop it from
happening again, impending doom from a mafia, assurance and assistance from a rich man, another fucking
epic gift …
 Something horrible was bound to happen soon.

She was nervous. She wanted to look casual but beautiful. She would be visiting an amazingly
wealthy, relatively good looking, generous, attentive, man who often made her feel squirmy, and without
her parents.

Lydia didn't want to look like she was trying to be sexy, though. So, she just put her hair in a low
ponytail. She slipped on a lilac colored t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. Simple black tennis shoes were put
on her feet. Lydia did apply a small amount of powder to her face, but she used lip balm instead of any
sort of lip-gloss or lipstick.

With her case of jewelry in the passenger seat, Lydia Deetz drove to the mansion Vlad was
residing in. The sun had set when she had arrived. She picked up the case, opened it to give the jewelry
one last look of pure diamond desire, and sighed. Then she snapped the case shut.

As she expected, a butler greeted her at the entrance. The butler then took her to a small
drawing room, one of several in the home, Lydia imagined. It was well lit, with books on shelves, and a
moderately sized television. She sat down on a small loveseat that was shaped like a Victorian Cameo
Backed sofa, but the pattern of the fabric was a black background with big and bold rainbow roses, and the
wooden frame was pure white. The walls of the room were paneled with white and gray wood, set in
vertical rectangles with silvery metal leaves aligned up and down the wood. The floor had a soft white
carpet. Lydia fought the urge to remove her shoes and caress the carpet with her sock clad feet.

The butler brought her a tray bearing refreshments, put the tray on the glass coffee table, and
then left her, saying, “Mr. Dalca will be here soon.”

On the tray there were grapes in a bowl with no stems, apple slices, strawberry flavored Pocky
snacks (unexpected but yummy), and a can of citrus flavored soda.

Well … why the fuck not?

She started playing a weird game where she would hold Pocky sticks like chopsticks and try to
pick up grapes, occasionally eating some apple. After a few failures she gave up and started eating the
Pocky.

Vlad entered the room and closed the door behind him. Lydia gave him a small wave. “Hey,
thanks for the snacks.”
 He nodded. “Mă bucur să te văd sunt fericit.” I am pleased to see you are happy.

Lydia blushed and looked down at her knees for a few seconds. Then she took the case in her
hands. “Ei bine, cred ca vorbim Român acum, nu?” Well, I guess we're speaking Romanian now, right?

He sat down beside her. “Pentru mine, acest lucru este reconfortant.” For me, this is comforting.

Lydia really thought her face felt too hot. “Iartă-mă, te rog? Uneori nu vorbesc la fel de bine.”
Forgive me, please? Sometimes I don't speak as well.

She knew she didn't speak as well. She knew she didn't look as well. He was so glamorous, even in
this outfit of his, his simple khaki pants and plain white dress shirt, and ordinary dress shoes. In her mind,
he could walk around naked and look more glamorous than her.

“Vocea ta mă place, Lydia,” he told her, with his head moving in closer. Your voice pleases me,
Lydia.

“Nu este important! Ia chestia asta, bine?” Not important! Take this thing, okay?

He stopped that line of thinking by putting his mouth to hers and his hand on her hand. His
tongue slipped in to stroke hers, and his fingers stroked her flesh. Lydia thought of fighting him off, but
he tasted exactly how she wanted a man to taste. She couldn't help it. She closed her eyes and put her
free arm around his back. Yes … this was wonderful . .

His hands stroked up and down her body; he moved one hand under her shirt and she gasped. Vlad
simply looked into her eyes, a corner of his mouth quirking slyly, and persistently rubbed her nipple
through her cotton bra. Lydia found breathing to be slightly laborious. Little sparks were lighting in her
body every time he pinched.

“Te rog? Eu nu pot,” she mumbled. Please? I can't. She didn't even know why she said that, didn't
know what she was saying.

His voice buzzed in her ear, “Vreau să te văd purtând bijuterii, și nimic altceva.” I want to see
you wearing the jewelry, and nothing else.
 Oh, for the love of all things sacrosanct … Lydia knew she couldn't say no to that. She kissed
him, ran her fingers through his long hair.

Vlad enjoyed the kiss but pulled her off of him and slid her shirt up. Lydia assisted him gladly,
and then put her thumbs under her pants and panties to pull them off. Vlad helped her do it a bit quicker.
Once she was nude, her shoes and socks removed too, Vlad held her to him. Lydia thought of a child
hugging a treasured stuffed animal. He even sighed and petted the back of her head with his fingers. She
felt him pull her band away, so her hair could be free of the ponytail.

Rather discourteously Vlad shoved her, and she landed right on the couch. “What?” She looked up
at him with an offended expression. He licked his teeth, and then he winked at her. Lydia snorted a laugh.
Vlad reached down to her the case of jewelry, and when he straightened his back he opened it in front of
her, displaying the diamonds.

“Girl's best friend?” he said in a questioning tone.

Lydia giggled at him. “Maybe.”

Smiling in return, Vlad bent down to put the jewelry on her, starting with the bracelets, and
then the ring, then the earrings. Lydia held up her hair so he could put the necklace on her; she licked his
cheek as he did so, which made him kiss her ear.

Vlad pulled back and stood up to admire her. Lydia felt shaky, but she enjoyed it. She was
wearing no clothing at all, but was wearing sparkling luxurious baubles. One of the richest men she had
ever heard of had been kissing her, and he was looking at her like she was some sort of goddess … This
was some special sort of high.

“Hey . .” she said quietly.

He looked at her face.

Lydia gestured for him to come closer when she noticed what was poking straight out from
behind Vlad's pants. “Heeey … I think you deserve some attention.” She pulled at his pants when he
stepped towards her. “I've never done this before, but I'll try.”

As if someone lit a match in his head, Vlad's face lit up, and he seemed to be mesmerized by this
new information. Lydia stuck her tongue out at him and tittered. The man didn't stop her from undoing
his pants and pulling them and his underwear down just enough to expose his manhood. Lydia didn't know
much about the average sizes of penises, so she couldn't confidently judge his size. She just knew she would
have difficulty getting it all in her mouth. So she focused on getting as much of it as possible inside,
stroking the rest with her hand. Lydia moaned and tried to suck hard.

Vlad's response was to grunt and hiss, putting his hands on her shoulders. He whispered, “Futu-i!”
Fuck!

Lydia tried to massage his testicles. She didn't know any proper techniques, but he seemed to
appreciate her efforts. He breathed out a few more curses and moved his hips a teeny bit. A moment
passed, and then he pushed her head away. She wasn't quite sure why he did that, but when he moved her
hand up and down his shaft as a demonstration, she imitated the motion. Lydia even lapped at his tip for
brownie points.

His fingers touched her face, and he gazed down at her with a very excited and flushed face.
Then he tilted his head back and Lydia felt him stiffen up. She stroked him harder, moving a bit faster,
and she sucked on his head. She heard a sound from him that was almost agonizing, like he was dealing
with a pain that stretched all around him. He sounded … older. She didn't really care. She was just glad
to know he was whining over her attentions. Semen shot out of his cock in short bursts, and Lydia
swallowed it. She had thought it would taste nasty, but it wasn't bad, salty, odd, but not bad.

Vlad went down to his knees and put his head on her lap. He hugged her thighs, and Lydia played
with his hair. He was trying to catch his breath.

She was afraid to say something, but she thought she had to say something. “Vlad?”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm?” He kissed her skin and nuzzled her.

“I … I dunno.”

“Sometimes,” he said as if it was quite important, “you say 'dunno.' Sometimes you say 'don't
know.'”

“Uhm … I guess it depends on something … don't know what.” She shrugged.

“Sometimes you say funny things.”

 Lydia poked her necklace with a single finger, admiring the bling. “Yeah … well … yeah.”

Vlad gripped the seat of the couch and moved upwards to kiss her mouth again.

“Would you like to wear fine things every day, my Sweet One?” he questioned.

She moved some hair out of her face, her eyelids half closing as she looked at his face. “What do
you want?”

“Grant me the honor of courting you, and you will have royalty wallow in envy over you.”

***

Chapter 14

Chapter 14
The Horror Begins

“You mean … like … dating?” She was pretty sure that's what he meant.

Vlad Dalca kissed Lydia's nose. “Is the idea repulsive?”

“To some people,” Lydia admitted, even though she didn't want to say it. Her eyes moved down,
but Vlad took her chin in his fingers and had her look at his face.

“Nimeni nu are voie să te rănesc. Nimeni nu are voie să te insult.,” he insisted. Nobody is
allowed to hurt you. Nobody is allowed to insult you.
 Lydia stroked his hand, “Ce autoritate aveți? Sunteți doar om bogat, un om, nici măcar un
politician.” What authority do you have? You are merely rich man, one man, not even a politician.

“Când acei oameni vin pentru bani, veți înțelege.” When those men come for the money, you will
understand. After he told her that he kissed her again.

Lydia wanted to believe everything he told her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tried
to rub his penis' head with her vagina. “Come oooooooooon,” she whined, “O vreau!” I want it!

“Hmmm …?” He looked at her, his mouth set. “Draga mea, ești virgină?” Darling, are you a
virgin?

Her mood died. She shot him an impatient look. “Yeah … are you going to fuck me or not?”

The unnerved tick in his jaw made him look like he would balk at the idea. “Do you know that
women often feel pain the first time they have sex?”

Impatiently she gave his hair a gentle tug. “It probably won't hurt that much. Come on!”

Vlad smirked at her, but he grabbed her legs and spread them wide. Lydia groped her own breast,
moaning. She closed her eyes as his fingertips played with her clitoris. She hissed out and moaned at the
sensations; sometimes her hips jerked. “Da . . da da da da . .” Yes … yes yes yes yes …

His tongue slid around her thighs, and Lydia thought there might be some sort of electricity in
his tongue. Everywhere his tongue touched there was a tingle. His mouth went to her clitoris and he
sucked. Lydia's response was to scream and put her palm on Vlad's head. “Da . . bine ... e atat de bine . .” Yeah
. . good . . it's so good . .

He pressed a finger into her, and her eyes rolled back into her head for a moment. “Oooooooooooh
… yeah!” A flash of an unpleasant memory came to her head, because of his fingernails, but lots of
people have long fingernails, so she just ignored the memory and concentrated on the piercing jolts
dancing around her flesh.

He tried to press another finger into her, and she screamed at a terrible pain. “Ooooow! It hurts!”
 “Prea mult,” Vlad muttered. Too much. He pulled his fingers out and gave her a little apology kiss.
“I want to wait.”

“The fuck?!” Lydia wanted to smack him, but she didn't. She did push his shoulders so he'd move
away. As she closed her legs, she said, “Might as well give these rocks back.”

Vlad laughed up at her, that deep older laugh that made Lydia jump a little. Then he got to his
feet and pulled his pants back up. “I want to savor you, Iubită.” Iubita means sweetheart or lover or
darling. “You are too precious not to savor.”

She started removing one of the earrings. “I think I'll go home now.”

Vlad stopped her hands, carefully clasping her wrists. “Vrei un card de credit, fără a fi nevoie
de a plăti facturile?” Would you like a credit card, without needing to pay the bills?

“Okay, now my whore sense is tingling.”

He laughed again, but softer. “Please do not say that.”

***

Lydia didn't tell her parents. She assumed she would have to tell them eventually, but not at
this time. A few days later, when Vlad secretly gave her a credit card, she hid the thing and decided not
to go shopping yet.

On the evening some of the members of the Passerini families had promised to come, the Deetz
family was surprised to find some very different people enter his home.

The first person to burst into the home was a tall tanned woman with deeply red hair. She
walked into the living room where the Deetz family was waiting. “Hey,” she said, “I'm Brunhilde, an old
bud of Vlad's. I'm gonna make your lives more awesome, kay? Oh, the money's in a van outside. That's a
fucking lot of cash to owe someone.”

She was wearing tiny ripped denim mini shorts, a teeny tiny string and silver bikini top mostly
adorned with little rubies (which made Lydia think of a famous diamond bikini once seen in a famous
magazine), and a bolero jacket made of black leather with sleeves long enough to reach her finger joints.
Brunhilde's shoes were ankle length work boots, and judging by the loud BONK sounds they made on the
floor they probably had steel toes. What really shocked the Deetzes is that she was carrying a Japanese
type of club, called a kanabo, a bit thinner than a baseball bat, but made of sturdy wood and iron studs. It
was very vicious looking for something that wasn't a blade. She did have a blade, a fucking longsword
sheathed and attached to a belt on her waist.

“You know Vlad?” Delia asked her. She didn't seem to quite understand how someone so
unsophisticated and violent looking could be the man's friend.

Brunhilde nodded, her curly red hair bouncing in a way that nearly looked innocent. “My other
friends will be here in three, two, one.”

Her friends emerged, around thirty. All of them carried guns that looked like something a
soldier would carry. They varied in ages, none of them children, of course. They also varied in race and
skin color. Some looked like they would be harmless without the guns. Some of them looked like action
heroes. Some of them looked like bikers. Some of them looked like action heroes. They weren't rowdy,
didn't speak much at all. They just stood in the living room, waiting.

One was a very tall and pale young woman, as very thin, with obviously fake round breasts that
were just too big, but she didn't seem to have a problem keeping her balance. Her hair was dry and oddly
colored, as if she was addicted to cheap hair dye. She dressed like a sexy biker chick. Her voice was
surprisingly soft and sweet, like a stereotypical fairy tale princess. “Hey B. This family is the cutest.”

“Yeah yeah,” Brunhilde said. She winked at Delia for no apparent reason. “The wife's an artist.
Maybe she'll slap a few sculptures together for me after all this.”

“Who the hell are all these people?” Charles asked, his face starting to look blotchy.

Brunhilde playfully poked his ribs with the end of her kanabo club, not enough to hurt him, but
just enough to make him flinch in his seat on the sofa. “They're some friends of mine. I got some more
friends, but I just gathered the closest ones.”

A short but muscular Native American man wearing leather pants said to Charles, “We're here
to be scary.”

“Okay everyone, remember no talking unless I say so,” Brunhilde reminded them with a smile. “My
favorite little baby should be here soon.”

Right on cue, Vlad Dalca came in, wearing a fantastic designer black suit and carrying a large
package. His son Mihai was right behind him, his long black hair in a single plait. Mihai had a very
concerned look on his face, but he smiled at the Deetzes. Vlad was looking rather self-contented. He was
the only one who was bold enough to sit down with the Deetzes. He sat down right next to Lydia and
handed her the package. “Please wear the clothing and jewelry in this box.”

Mihai explained, “We're going to put on a nice show.”

Lydia gave her parents an apologetic look, then she ran upstairs with her package.

When she walked back into the living room, Charles groaned and asked why the world was so
hateful to him. Lydia Deetz had her dainty feet in a pair of tall golden stilettos covered in little
diamonds. She had on a black lace mini shirt so short she didn't need to bend over to show off her ass. She
did have a black thong on, but still her ass was out there for anyone to see. She had on a tiny red V-neck
halter top that left nothing to any imagination. Her fingers had on various rings, and there were
diamond and ruby chandelier earrings in her ears. She wore a magnificent necklace with a big ruby
pendant that dangled between her breasts.

“I don't know if I'm embarrassed or what,” Lydia mumbled as she tried to cover her butt with her
hands. She stumbled over to her seat; the heels were quite high. Her cheeks were red, but she kept
fiddling with the necklace to distract her. Vlad made her yelp when he took her by her waist and sat her
in his lap.

The woman with the overly large bosom looked at her and said, “Awww Honey, you need some
lipstick.” She skipped over to Lydia and handed her a tube from her pocket. “Haven't even opened it, Love.
Keep it.”

“Uhm, thank you.” Lydia couldn't see a reason to say no. She opened the tube and saw a factory
fresh looking stick. It was red, typical. She sighed and rubbed her lips with the stick.

Vlad took the lipstick for her, since she had no pockets, and put it in a pocket of his. As soon as
that was done, the Passerinis came, ten of them, wearing fancy suits and more than likely carrying
pistols. This was confirmed when they saw the large group of people and guns. They whipped out their
pistols, yelling. Brunhilde outdid them by screaming out, “SHUUUUUUT THE FUCK UP OR I'LL BLOW YOUR
HEADS OFF!! ! ! !”

They shut up. Brunhilde smiled at them and said, “We have your money. It's in the van outside. I
hope you have enough space to carry it all.”

One man said, “Good, we're going to get it.”

“Just a moment, Asshole,” Brunhilde said, pointing at him with her kanabo. “We need to make sure
you and your boss understand something, so pay attention and tell your boss everything.”
 “Who the fuck do you think you are?” the man shouted.

Brunhilde winked. “I'm a bad muthafucka. Now shut up.” She sauntered over to Lydia and put her
index finger under Lydia's chin. “Do you see this cute little baby doll? Isn't she the sweetest damn thing?
I bet you'd love to fuck her up.” Charles hid his face with a white handkerchief. “It's too bad for you,
though. She's off limits,” continued Brunhilde. “Her family is off limits. Anyone she even remotely likes is
off limits.”

The man told her, “Do you know who we are?”

Brunhilde rolled her eyes. “Vlad, didn't I just tell that piece of shit to shut the fuck up?”

Vlad nodded and stroked Lydia's legs, which made her squeak. “You told him to shut up, but he
speaks.”

Satisfied with his words, Brunhilde nodded and approached the man, staring down at him and
licking her teeth. Slowly she unsheathed her sword. “I had this little toy made just for me. It's a lovely
modern approach to a longsword, with a comfortable grip.” She made a lightning fast movement with her
hand, and somehow the man's gun was on the floor.

Befuddled, the man stepped back. His companions suddenly found that their guns were on the
floor too, and Brunhilde's babies were much closer to them than before.

Delia whispered, “How did they do that?”

In the blink of an eye bloody thin lines were made down the man's face. Brunhilde smiled so very
kindly at the man, blood and small bits of flesh on her fingernails, which looked a little bit longer than
normal. The man screamed, but she gripped his throat with a single hand, and he was forced to stop. He
did manage to spit out, “Bitch,” but Brunhilde didn't like it. Still smiling that perfect, doll-like, motherly
smile, she made a tight movement with her sword, and from the knee downwards part of the man's leg
was chopped off, and blood was drooping and spurting, making a mess. She literally threw him at his
friends.

Delia screamed. Charles held Delia. Lydia thought she would scream, but she pressed shaky hands
to her face. She felt Vlad kiss her nape, but she ignored it.

That man was screaming and crying out curses. His companions tried to get their guns, but they
were outnumbered, and Brunhilde's friends were quick enough to kick the guns out of reach. Brunhilde
giggled. “Here's your leg!” She tossed the limb at them. The men were kind enough to take it for the
injured man. “Now tell your boss what I said! I'm not afraid to wage full on war on his pissant family! I'll
drink the blood of their babies and shit on everyone's lawn like a bitch! The key's in the van, take the shit
and go!”

They did, leaving their guns behind. Everyone heard the van outside being started, along with
the vehicle the men had arrived in. Once the men had driven off, Brunhilde said in a sing song voice,
“Who'll clean up all this blood for me? I'll give you a cookie!”

With a groan a middle aged looking man said he'd go buy the cleaning supplies.

***

Chapter 15

Chapter 15
Protection

The man returned with the cleaning supplies, and without asking for help, he started cleaning.
As he worked, the Brunhilde handed him her bloody sword, and he worked on that too.

“Hey,” Brunhilde said to the sweet talking woman who had given Lydia lipstick, “Next time, when
I say no talking, mean no talking.”

“I was giving the girl some lipstick, to whore her up.” The woman giggled at Brunhilde.

Brunhilde gently tapped the woman's hip with her kanabo club. “Okay, forgiven.” She held her club
up and examined it like it was a baseball bat. “I didn't get to use my club. That sucks more than me.” She
sighed. “Okay guys, you can all leave now, you even got some free guns, but remember, I want at least two
of you watching this place at all times. I'm sure the Deetzes have a guest room.”

“What?!” Charles shot up from his seat. “I'm going to have these people in my house?!”

Vlad shrugged. “They might feel offended. You should be protected.”

 “No worries,” Brunhilde told Charles, “I'll give them money. They won't eat you out of house and
home. If they do, I'll beat them. They'll be the perfect little house guests.” She suddenly pouted. “Does
anyone have anything they don't want anymore? I really wanna break something with this club.”

Mihai made a very noticeable groan, rolling his eyes.

As most of Brunhilde's babies left the building (the cute woman who gave Lydia lipstick and one
man stayed behind), taking their weapons and the guns the gangsters left behind, Vlad turned to look at
Charles and said in the most polite and respectful tone, “Mr. Deetz, may I please have your blessing to
court your lovely and intelligent daughter?”

Delia's jaw dropped. Charles starting laughing like a sad madman. Lydia blushed, and not even
bothering to wait for her father to answer, she asked Vlad a question of her own. “Did I really have to
dress up like a goddamn street walker?”

The amusement on his face was shockingly cute. She didn't know the man could be cute. “We
wanted your new status as a kept woman to be obvious.”

“So the correct answer is no,” Lydia said, taking off her earrings. She stood up, wanting to go
upstairs and get out of the outfit.

Mihai covered his eyes and turned his head, not seeming to appreciate the image of Lydia's ass.
He muttered, “Nu vreau să văd asta.” I do not want to see that.

Charles was still laughing, but quieter. Delia was hugging him, cooing at him, trying to calm him
down. Lydia made a mental note to apologize to him later. The poor guy's world was being tossed around
like a kid's rubber ball. She heard Delia say, “Hey, this isn't too bad. It'll be okay.”

When Lydia returned downstairs, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, the middle aged looking man was
still cleaning up the blood. Brunhilde was stroking Mihai's head, much to his apparent discomfort. Lydia
guessed that she was stroking his head because Mihai didn't like it. Charles was silent, staring out into
nothing, and his wife was still hugging him. Vlad stood up and reached out to Lydia, palm upwards. Lydia
figured he wanted her hand, so she put it in his. He kissed her hand and told her, “You need a respite from
this violence, Mândră.” That was a pleasant word that meant beauty or sweetheart in this context.
“Abuse my card tomorrow or the next day. He is a masochist, so do not fret.”

“He gave you a card?” Delia said, her arms still around Charles.
 “Well … yeah, doesn't even have a spending limit,” Lydia confessed. She gripped Vlad's hand and
looked up at his eyes. “Are you in a gang? I'm not stupid enough to go to the cops, but I wanna know.”

Brunhilde answered for him, twirling Mihai's braid like a jump rope. “Yeah, we're a gang, sorta,
maybe, a little, more like a family really. It's complicated.” She suddenly stopped bothering Mihai and
said, “Oh, by the way, I don't go about drinking baby blood. That's not my cup of tea. I suppose I would shit
on someone's lawn if I was riled enough.”

“Who is this woman anyway?” Lydia knew she should be afraid of the woman, but she had just
made a claim of protection on her, violently.

“Brunhilde,” replied Vlad, putting his arms about her and stroking her head. “She likes you.”

“Uhhh … okay.” Lydia didn't think this was a situation she could easily get out of. “I'm stuck in
this lifestyle change, right?”

Vlad nuzzled her head. “You are now trapped in a life of leisure, luxury, and affection.”

Lydia felt a warmth in her chest, and she smiled, but she hid the smile in Vlad's chest. When she
was able to put her smile away she looked up at Vlad again. “Can I keep the jewelry you lent me today?”

“I never loan jewelry to women,” he told her, “I give jewelry to women.”

She wondered how many women he had given jewelry to.

Brunhilde moved to the man who was cleaning up and patted his head. The man ignored the
gesture, just kept cleaning. “I'll get out of your house eventually. I want to make sure this guy does a
good job.”

***

“Brunhilde?!”

Beetlejuice was gawking at Lydia.

 She knew she had to tell him everything that had happened, but she didn't know that he would
react like this. They were at a small dining table in his home, and Beeteljuice nearly fell out of his seat
when Lydia had told her the name of the women who seemed to be the leader, but he let her finish her
story.

“So … she's Brunhilde?” he said, folding his arms on the table and still staring at her.

“Yeah, so?”

“I can't believe she fucking told you that.” Beetlejuice looked like he wanted to smile.

Lydia crossed her legs. “I have no idea what you're talking about now.”

“Well, I'm not gonna fuck up whatever Brunhilde's got in mind,” he said, grinning his rather
unhealthy grin, “Wanna go watch an old movie with me?”

“It's late, but thanks, B.J.” She blew him a kiss.

***

Much to the discomfort of her parents, two of Brunhilde's friends were staying at their home.
They always had money, and they always gave one of her parents some whenever they took something to
eat. They also slept in shifts, no matter what time of day it was. Sometimes they tried to make a polite
conversation, but mostly they entertained themselves with their books or iPads, not bothering anyone.
For some reason, they called Lydia, “Miss Deetz” or “Ma'am” or sometimes even “My Lady.” When she asked
them why, one told her that Vlad had given them extra cash just to call her by those titles. Lydia
laughed at that.

Vlad texted her in the morning, to ask when she was leaving to go shopping, and Lydia told him.
He told her to wait for a limousine. It arrived in the afternoon, right on time. It was a very nice
limousine. She had often seen Claire Brewster relaxing in a white limousine with the letter C on the
hood. This limousine was black and sleeker, and to Lydia's shock her first name was in a beautiful white
script on the hood. Lydia wondered if he just took one of his limousines and had her name put on it, or if
he purchased a new one.

There were two people inside, two elegant looking women in sexy short black cocktail dresses and
small black versions of a Gainsborough hat. They had on dressy black platform shoes and wore long black
gloves. Lydia wondered if they were twins; they had similar physical looks.
 “I'm Gina,” said one.

“I'm Marleen,” said the other.

Lydia knew she would never tell them apart. “Who are you guys?”

“We're your new shopping assistants,” Gina answered.

“Oooooooohhhhhh kay,” Lydia said as her eyebrow quirked. “Vlad hired you?”

“Yes Ma'am,” said Marleen. “We'll help you carry your bags, and we also have emergency cash
with us.”

“Kaaaay.” Lydia had already accepted that she was living in La-La Land, and there was no way to
stop it. She got into the limousine. Lydia couldn't say for certain what was inside Claire's limousine, but
when Lydia slipped inside she assumed Claire would be so angry at her.

It was sooooooooooooooooooo extravagant. The seats were black with red upholstery buttons,
and the leather was so silky and comfy. There was a lot of room to stretch one's feet. Lydia was blithely
surprised to see a fairly big TV monitor and a video game system. There was also a bar, but the only
beverages inside were fruit juices and soda, since Lydia wasn't 21 yet. The stereo system was very stylish
looking. The ceiling had swirling lights that weren't turned on, but Lydia knew by the end of the day she
would be flicking them on and off over and over again.

“I feel like I need to be wearing something sexy to be in this thing,” Lydia admitted.

“We can wait,” said one of the assistants.

Lydia slipped back out to get on her sexiest shopping outfit she could put together.

***

Brunhilde was gnawing on a man's bloody finger, relaxing in an armchair in a TV room of Mihai's,
when she heard her victim whine beneath her feet.
 “Silly little man, thought you would spy on us, eh?”

The man's face was scratched more than pottery, and he was begging to be released, offering
money.

“Bitch, do I look like I worry about money? I'll let you go when I feel like it.” She twirled the
digit with her finger. “I'm not going to kill you. You were only following orders. Still, you're not getting
this finger back.”

“What do you want?!” he wailed.

“Well, first you're going to watch me eat your finger.” Brunhilde stuck out her tongue like a silly
child. “Then you're going to see your boss and tell him you ain't coming back. Finally, you're going to tell
your boss, even if he's already been told, that he needs to back the fuck off.”

***

Chapter 16

Chapter 16
The Shopping Trip

Her legs were clad in thigh high socks. Her feet were slipped into red platform wedge shoes. She had on a
tight red mini dress and a black bolero jacket. They weren't expensive designer clothes, but they were
good quality and they looked expensive. She did wear all the flashy jewelry she had when she had worn
that ass showing outfit (except some of the rings for the sake of mobility). She put her hair up in a messy
but cute bun, and put on that red lipstick she affectionately called, “whore lipstick.” She took her purse
and ran back to that fantastic limousine where her new “assistants” were waiting, watching something on
the TV.
A telephone rang in the limousine. Lydia answered it. It was the driver. He politely asked where she
wanted to go, so she told him she wanted to go to the nearest mall.
She had no idea where to go first. She looked at Gina and Marleen, not sure which was which.
“Uhm … if you had the credit card and blessing of a fabulously rich guy and you were in a mall, what
would you guys buy?”
Without missing a beat, both women said at the same time, “Shoes.”
“Well … okay shoes.” Lydia shrugged and looked for a shoe store.
Ten purchases later, Lydia decided to buy the two women a pair of shoes each, just because they were
very nice and helped her try on shoes. She then went to a clothing store that sold edgy things.
Eventually the women were overloaded with bags, but they didn't complain. Lydia just told them to walk
back to the limousine, put the bags away, and meet her at a certain restaurant. They had a small meal
there, of course on Vlad Dalca's credit. After that they went to a jewelry store, because damn it Lydia
wanted some more rocks.
Claire Brewster was there, with her two friends. Lydia suddenly thought she was a hypocrite for calling
Claire's friends fashion accessories, but she didn't feel too bad about it. Claire shot Lydia a smug look and
said, “Girls, can you believe Lydia is here? I didn't know goth rejects were interested in the finer things.”
Gina and Marleen both gave Claire surprised looks. One of them spoke before Lydia could make a retort.
“Miss Lydia's going to shop here.”
Claire laughed at that, flipping her hair. Lydia walked over to the glass display case Claire had been
hovering over. “Wow Claire, you have great tastes.” She smiled at Claire. Claire mumbled something with
the word cunt in it. “Okay, that's it,” Lydia slapped the credit card onto the display. “Sir?” she called out
to an employee, “I'd like to buy that, that, that,” pointing at every thing she wanted, “that, that, that, and
anything this bitch over here has been looking at.”
Claire's face turned so many shades of red, and she ground her teeth, giving Lydia the angriest eyes she
had ever seen. Lydia only grinned at her.
“Stolen your dad's credit card, Deetz?” Claire somehow said without moving her lips much.
“More like, using a nice gentleman's card with his permission,” Lydia told her.
***
It was dark when Lydia returned home, and her new beau Vlad was sipping at some coffee with her
father in the kitchen, waiting for her. Charles was holding his cup like he wanted to protect it, covering
the top with his hand. He smiled at Lydia, but there wasn't any happiness in his smile.
“What did you say to my dad?” Lydia asked Vlad as she walked over to him. Gina and Marleen were
carrying the shopping bags up to Lydia's room.
Vlad hugged her with one arm and offered her some of his coffee. She gently refused. Vlad kissed her
cheek. “Lydia, I said nothing threatening,” he said in a very normal and friendly tone. Charles nodded his
head and took a gulp of coffee. Vlad put his cup down on a counter and gave Lydia a normal hug, then
another quick kiss. “Did you enjoy yourself today?”
Lydia answered, “I think I almost killed your credit card.”
“Good.” Vlad stroked her face and tapped her nose. “Someone from the mafia had tried to spy on Mihai's
mansion. Brunhilde sent him home.”
“Damn,” Charles said in a breath. He stared down at his coffee. “I guess they aren't stopping.”
“Be grateful,” Vlad said without turning to look at him. He just kept smiling at Lydia.
***
Prudence really was a lot of fun. She had been raised by a modest Catholic family, was timid and shy in
general, but very intelligent and she really didn't have a lot of qualms about exploring new things with
her sexuality.
With her wrists bound together over her head, her back arching against Mihai's warm bed, Prudence
looked like a captive slave to him. He had so much fun tickling her with feathers and jolting her senses
with toys. She was more responsive than a porn star, and more than likely more sincere.
She didn't beg for him. It was part of this game. Making her beg was his goal here, and damn it he was
thinking he might lose.
He suckled a portion of her round breast, roughly grabbing her core. She screamed, came close to begging,
shaking her head.
Prudence was feisty when she wanted to be feisty. He wondered if the timidness was a facade.
When his mouth went to her core she whined and sobbed, and eventually she begged, and Mihai heard his
own laughter in his head.
***
When the man handed him a discreetly taken photograph taken of Lydia Deetz shopping, he knew he was
looking at one of the most beautiful women in the world.
This girl was being protected and taken care of by this fucked up gang he still didn't know much about,
and not knowing pissed him off.
Was any woman even worth all of that?
She was exceptionally pretty, but, even the cheapest whore could be exceptionally pretty.
What a smile … she looked good in jewels.
***

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Amazingly Immature

Author's Note: I apologize for any and all typos, grammar errors, repeated sentences, etc. Also,
please note I don't understand Romanian, and so I use Google Translate and other misc. sources.

Even someone with a goody goody attitude like Lydia's had to admit that sometimes school is
duller than an overly abused butter-knife.
 Lydia knew her education was important. Just because she didn't live in a fancy apartment near
a fancy university (like Claire did, even though she could have kept living with her parents, since the
university was nearby) didn't mean Lydia's classes weren't valid and required.

Yet, just because the lecture the kind looking professor was relevant and good, that didn't mean
Lydia wasn't preoccupied with thoughts of Vlad. He hadn't asked her out in public yet. That was a bad
sign. No matter how many lavish gifts a man gave you, if he didn't want to see you in public, that was bad.
Lydia wanted to ask him to take her somewhere, at least a walk in the park, but she was a little afraid
that she'd get a negative response. Because of this oddity, she hadn't told Prudence or Bertha about Vlad's
affections, or the gifts, or the limousine, or the shopping trip, and certainly not the scene with the
gangsters and guns and limb removal …

She didn't think her friends would believe her.

Her parents weren't exactly introducing Vlad to their friends as if he was a future son-in-law.

Lydia slid her booted feet closer to herself under the table she quietly sat at. She tried to take
notes. Soon she found that instead of taking educational notes, she was writing down her thoughts in
Romanian mixed with English. Basically she was writing things like, “Won't even take me to Mcdonalds.
Courtship my ass. This isn't even dating. Why won't you even fuck me, Bitch?!”

Noticing a silence, she looked up; the professor was standing before her, looking down at her
notes. The English words were pretty vulgar, so even if he didn't know Romanian, the English was
embarrassing enough.”

With an embarrassed yet cheesy smile, Lydia looked up at him and blushed. Ripping the paper
into chunks, she said quietly, “Weird personal problems . .”

Some students stared at her. Some giggled. Some didn't seem to care. The professor shrugged and
walked on.
 ***

“I do hope you can forgive my son. He is very protective of women, particularly the women he
believes are gentle and sweet.”

Vlad Dalca put on the best comforting tone he could pluck out as he spoke to the young heiress
Claire Brewster, sitting beside her on a park bench, admiring the sun set.

“More like pathetic,” that woman said as she let out a rather harsh laugh. Vlad wondered if this
unpleasant jolt he felt was what Lydia felt when he laughed. He made a mental note to ask her if his
laughter was harsh. “She's probably out on some nasty street downtown,” Claire continued, “She won't get
much, though. Who wants a pasty leather bag?”

While Vlad kept a very placid face, inside his mind he was imagining choking this woman and
throwing her against a wall, maybe kidnapping her and selling her into sexual slavery. He didn't need the
money, so he'd just give it to Lydia. Well, perhaps selling her wouldn't be wise, or even morally correct.
Still, he wanted to choke her. Maybe he'd have the opportunity one day.

This woman had been telling all her friends such ridiculous things about Lydia. It didn't matter
that nobody of importance took Claire seriously. The fact that she dared to be so rude bothered Vlad. She
even dared to insult his son. Now, Mihai was more than just a grown man. He was a grown man who once
threatened to rape another man who called him a faggot, while Mihai was wearing a frilly and lacy
gown. (Mihai didn't rape him, and wouldn't have, but he did beat the man with a stiletto shoe) Mihai
wasn't vulnerable. Lydia was different. Lydia was vulnerable. Simply being a woman made her more
vulnerable, because she lived in a woman's world. While men could be violent, women ruined lives just by
using deceit. That thought was a general statement, and not set in stone, but it applied here.

So, with a warmth that was very false, Vlad decided to play the woman. He took Claire's hand in
his and kissed it, and he looked into her very pretty blue eyes. “Have I told you that you are a fairy tale
princess? I adore fairy tales.”
 Well, he did adore fairy tales. That part was true.

“Ești o cățea subțire. Mananca ceva,” he told her with a smirk. It was a very true statement, in
his opinion.

“What does that mean?” Claire asked, her breath fluttering and her smile growing.

“I simply told you how attractive and beautiful you are.”

It really meant, “You are a thin bitch. Eat something.”

***

Vlad invited the Deetzes to a private dinner, and told Mihai to attend. Like an angry Bridezilla,
Vlad made sure that every detail in the moderate little dining area was perfect. The balcony nearby
hung over a lovely garden lit by environmentally friendly lanterns, and Vlad had yelled at the servant
responsible at one point because one lantern wouldn't light. Once it worked correctly, Vlad gave the
servant a tip. Mihai was adjusting his white lacy jacket when he came in, carrying a container of cookies.

“Prudence nu știe, nu?” Vlad asked him. Prudence doesn't know, no?

Mihai nodded. “Bertha, de asemenea.” Bertha also.

 “Oameni mai puțin pentru a explica,” Vlad said. Less people to explain to.

***

When the Deetz family arrived, the first thing Vlad did was go to Lydia and kiss her hand, and
then place his fingers on her jaw and throat, looking into her eyes. She had lovely brown irises. That's the
way irises are. Rarely are they ever dull. Even Claire had lovely irises, and she was a horrible person.
Still, since this was Lydia, her eyes were special to Vlad.

As they ate, Vlad took every opportunity to speak to Lydia, and to admire everything about her
appearance and voice and overall demeanor. She seemed sad, maybe even frustrated, but she was trying
to hide it. Vlad imagined he knew why was upset.

She looked delightful. Her hair had that insane messy look, sticking out and making her almost
look like she had been electrocuted, almost but not really. She didn't wear any makeup except for a small
bit of powder, just a little bit that he could see under her eyes and over a tiny blemish she had. Lydia
wore a charming black cotton dress, knee-length and with a white print of a ribcage on the front. Her
black stockings seemed elegant for some reason. She had remarkably fabulous shoes. Vlad was certain that
he bought them. They were corseted black and red platform boots, knee-high, with ribbons and buckles.
They had somewhat thinner heels, and that was rather cute.

At one point Vlad asked the servants to leave, and then announced, “I have an explanation, my
dear family.”

Delia gripped Charles' hand because the poor man looked like he might go pale.

“I would like to play a game,” said Vlad.

 Charles blurted out, “Are we going to be stuck in torture devices?!”

Mihai tried not to laugh at him, but he shoved a napkin into his mouth and laughed anyway.
Lydia gave Mihai a “stop laughing right now” look, and that made Mihai sigh and stop.

Vlad wanted to roll his eyes, but he didn't. Instead, he told them, “I do hope you have noticed
that I have not been a fair suitor to dearest Lydia.”

“Could you please talk like a normal person?” Lydia said to him, her eyes narrowing. “You've been
a freak. Try saying that.”

Vlad wanted to roll his eyes again, but again he didn't.

“Are you all aware that Miss Claire Brewster has been saying hurtful things about Lydia?”

Like an annoyed and possibly stereotypically homosexual student, Mihai raised his hand with a
flourish and a sassy facial expression. “Me!” he said.

“Coborâți brațul tău,” Vlad immediately told Mihai. Lower your arm.

Mihai lowered his arm and grinned.

Vlad rolled his eyes that time. “I will spend time with Claire, and that requires my affections
for Lydia to be kept secret, for now.”
 “I don't get it,” Delia said quite honestly.

Lydia looked like she wanted to lunge at Vlad. Her fingers were gripping the table, and her jaw
was tight. She was staring at her plate, grumbling.

“I don't want any interference. I plan on making a point to Claire,” Vlad insisted as he laced his
fingers together on the table.

Mihai said, “He's going to publicly humiliate her.”

“Uhm,” Charles said, tapping his food with a spoon, “Why?”

“Doesn't matter,” countered Mihai, grinning.

Lydia shook her head and muttered, “I don't fucking get it.”

“I want you all to know, I do not plan on hurting Lydia,” Vlad said.

“Well, you are,” Lydia snapped at him, looking up to narrow her eyes at him.

Vlad tried his most winning smile, and he reached out to take her hand. Lydia slapped it, and he
recoiled.
 “I'm gonna give back everything you ever gave me or bought for me,” she said, getting out of her
seat and stomping out of the room. “I'm gonna wait in the car!”

Mihai took a sip of his drink and then said, “You're going to have a lot of boxes.”

***

“You have a lot of boxes,” Brunhilde told Vlad as she stared at the stacks of things in the
mansion's main foyer the next night. She was standing beside Vlad, happily chewing on a man's foot.

“You have a foot,” Vlad responded, a somewhat pouty look on his face.

Brunhilde shrugged and chirped, “Another idiot gangster. He's missing a foot now, wherever he
is.” She turned to give Vlad a very kind and loving smile. “So, are you going to explain to me why you're
deceiving that rich bitch with the sapphire eyes?”

“I want to play a game,” Vlad said calmly.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know you were a high school bitch with the soul of a demon.” Brunhilde tapped
his shoulder with her foot snack. Vlad put his palm to his face.

***
Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Sadness and Anger

Beetlejuice just assumed Lydia was safe. Yeah, Lydia had been pissed at this Vlad guy lately, but
if the queen bee said she's safe, then she's safe. Actually, Beetlejuice thought this was all a little bit
funny. He kind of wanted to tell Lydia some important truths, like the facts that her sort of sweetheart
was a vampire, and Brunhilde was the queen, and all those friends were her little vampires too. Sadly,
Brunhilde wanted to keep that a secret. The fewer mortal humans who knew about vampires, the better.
Lydia knew vampires existed, of course, but that didn't mean she needed to know anything right this
minutes, and her friends and family certainly didn't need to know at all!

From his seat on his sofa, he gave her a careful look.

Poor little Lydia, who had been throwing her own versions of fits in his home (writing angry
poetry and then tearing the paper up), was trying not to fall asleep as she sat on the cute black armchair
he had gotten for her. The shifting light from his little television was putting an eerie glow on her face,
and Beetlejuice wasn't sure if he liked it. Her eyelids seemed too heavy, and they shut, and her head
tilted down a bit. It was pretty late.

She hadn't been visiting him very much lately. Prince Vince had been asking about her. This was
rather sad.

Lydia used to be a cute little preteen, with cute eyes that looked bigger, and a cute personality
that didn't match her gothic wardrobe. She was bubbly, cheerful, and much more patient. Now, she seemed
irritable in general, and confused, and somehow less willing to smile. He wanted to ask her what the hell
happened, but he imagined she'd say something like, “I grew the fuck up.” Beetlejuice wasn't sure if that
would've made any damn sense.
 Lydia was probably his first real friend that had changed so much within a few years. He didn't
like it, but he knew this couldn't be helped.

Beetlejuice whispered to himself, “Does It look after her?”

He sighed and looked out his window. The bright lights outside lit up a strange mist that he
wasn't used to. He tilted his head and blinked. It was moving kind of like smoke, but more … animated.
Then he heard a raspy voice in his mind.

“She's important.”

Beetlejuice gasped. He stood up and ran to the front door. When he was outside, the mist was
gone. “Are you there?!” he cried out.

Later on he realized that was a stupid question. It, in a way, was everywhere.

***

There was a forest. It was a lovely bright day, and he was walking in a forest. The forest looked
familiar, so it brought back memories. He felt like he was in that time when he would have to go to the
forest for privacy with his wife. That was a common thing to do. Privacy was something of a luxury at
the time, not that he didn't steal moments in a bedroom.

He found her, under a tree, resting on a thick blanket, and she was nude. Her black hair didn't
make her seem too pale, since the lighting was warm upon her skin. She was smiling at him, reaching out
with her arms.
 He fell onto her, and she only laughed and wrapped her arms around him.

Before he could kiss her glorious mouth, she said to him with the most playful tone, “Claire
Brewster va avea de suferit.” Claire Brewster will suffer.

He found that confusing. Now was not the time to say such a thing.

Then Vlad's eyes opened to wooden boards. He realized he was in one of his boxes of earth, from
his homeland. Well … that was an interesting dream.

***

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry.”

Bam!

The pistol went off and the bullet went into the pleading man's head. The middle aged mob boss
standing in front of his desk didn't even flinch as the blood and some bits of bone flew about, onto him and
the walls of his office. The two men who stood outside his door weren't disturbed either.

His right hand man was sitting in a corner, puffing on a cigar. “That was a waste,” he said in a
deep and hoarse voice with more than a hint of Italian American.
 “He shouldn't have let Bruno get hurt. Bruno was his responsibility. How's Bruno gonna take care
of his wife without a foot?”

“Prosthetic foot?” the right hand man suggested. He waved his hand. “I'm not here to say you've
gone crazy, Alessio. I'm just saying you might wanna let this go. You got the money. A lot of our boys are
either dead or not doing so hot.”

Alessio's dark eyes were pink where white should be. He put his gun down on his desk and sat
back into his seat. “I wanna know who the fuck these guys are, where their turf is, and who their friends
are!”

The right hand man took a long drag from his cigar.

“And that stupid little pasty bitch!”

The right hand man exhaled, and then he said, “Why you care about that cunt, huh?”

“What the fuck is so special about her?!” Alessio shouted. Who exactly he was shouting at was
unknown.

“You got a wife and two whores. Let it go, man,” advised the right hand man.

Alessio turned to throw a wildly angry look at him. “What, you think I want her?!”
 The smoking man didn't react much, except to take another puff, not looking at the boss. “You
won't shut up about her. I get it. She's pretty, but come on; there are plenty of whores. She's not even that
hot, you know?”

“Get outta here!”

The right hand man stood up, walked out of the room, and asked for someone to clean up the mess.

***

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

A Game

When Vlad Dalca met Claire Brewster at a not so well known restaurant one evening, she wasn't
very pleased with him. She whined, “Next time, I wanna go to that chic place next to the theater! We're
too high class for this place.” Vlad had purposely met her at less fashionable places, places her friends and
family wouldn't be caught dead at, but still decent and lovely places.

The waitress was friendly, and asked politely asked Vlad what country he was from, since he
sounded foreign. Before Vlad could answer, Claire called the waitress a “seven dollar an hour thing” and
told her to just take the orders. Vlad made a mental note to give the waitress a generous tip. He silently
mouthed to the waitress, “She's a bitch.” The waitress was still insulted, but smiled at Vlad before she left
them alone.
 Vlad tried very hard to be a doting sort of person that evening. He ignored all of Claire's rude
remarks about several women in the room. He pretended to listen when Claire talked about herself. Near
the end of the meal, Vlad handed her a long box. She opened it an squealed. Inside the box was a sparkly
bracelet of large round and pear shaped diamond-like gems. They were cubic zirconia, but very pretty' it
was a very good quality bracelet. Claire didn't know they weren't diamonds, and she cooed over the
bracelet. She hopped out of her seat to skip to him and kiss his mouth. Vlad pulled away when she tried to
push her tongue inside, but he smiled at her.

That evening she tried to tempt him into her bedroom, or his bedroom, well, anywhere was fine
by her. She just wanted somewhere private. She groped at certain body parts of his, even when people
could see. Vlad simply told her that she was a fairy tale princess, and he wanted to appear old fashioned
because of that. She accepted that very well. Claire was too distracted by her bracelet to care that she
wasn't getting any sex from him, besides, she really was vain and would gladly believe she was a perfect
little princess of a girl that should get gifts and attention without giving anything in return to a man.

Vlad thought to himself, “O prostituată este mai bine.” A prostitute is better.

***

“Care e planul tău?” Mihai asked him the next day. What's your plan?

“Pentru a aștepta pentru o oportunitate,” Vlad told him. To wait for an opportunity.

If he got impatient, he'd make an opportunity.

***
 Two days later, close to sunset, Lydia Deetz was in the kitchen of her home, reading a chapter
from a textbook, and pointedly ignoring Vlad Dalca, who was sitting across from her.

Charles Deetz and his wife Delia were standing in the kitchen, sipping hot chocolate. They
watched the quiet couple, eyes slightly wide.

Vlad was holding a closed case in his lap, palms rested on the lid, his gray eyes locked onto
Lydia's head. His mouth and jaw kept changing from normal to a smile to normal again, over and over.

It was obvious that Lydia had wished Vlad hadn't come to visit, and that Vlad would just go
away.

Vlad had a stronger sort of patience than she could handle.

“Do you know what is in this case?” he asked her.

She flipped a page.

“Perhaps more jewelry?” Vlad suggested in a playful tone.

She wrote something down on a piece of paper.

Vlad's smile changed into his favorite wicked smile. He stood up, walked over to Lydia's side, and
slammed the case onto the table near her book.
 The Deetzes jumped and yelped. Lydia merely winced. She still ignored him, though.

Vlad flicked his wrist, and the case opened, and inside was a simple black leather journal and a
simple pen. Lydia's pencil fell from her fingers, and her eyes went to the journal as if there was a special
eye-magnet device there.

“You will not speak to me, but will you write?” Vlad bent down a bit to kiss her cheek.

Lydia picked up the pen, the journal, snapped it open, and quickly wrote something down in a
messy script. After a moment she dropped the journal back onto the table.

Vlad looked at her writing. It read, “Sa-mi bagi mana-n cur si sa-mi faci laba la cacat.” That
means, “Stick your hand in my ass and jerk off with my shit.”

Well … that's just … that … that's not one of his fetishes. One of Vlad's eyebrows quirked.
Then he shook his head like a disapproving parent, gently closed the journal, and slid it closer to Lydia.
He left the house, wondering if she would keep writing.

***

Just before he was about to retire, in the wee hours of the morning, Brunhilde burst into his
bedroom. Vlad had been hoping to enjoy a bed, like a normal person, but that woman simply needed to ruin
his dark morning, just as his pants barely touched the mattress.

“Well,” she said with a very perky voice, “It's been long enough now. Whatcha seen in her room,
besides her naked ass?”
 “Ce?” What? Vlad turned on a lamp and shot her an irritated look. His long hair bounced as he
jerked his head in disbelief. “Why are you bothering me about that now?”

Brunhilde put her palm onto her hip and tapped her fingers. “Baby, you should've seen some shit
on that camera by now.”

“Dearest B., would you please elaborate?” Vlad gripped a pillow and started tearing the very
expensive case with his fingernails, still looking at Brunhilde with flared nostrils and a slowly growing
snarl. He was sleepy, damn it!

Her eyes softened only a little. “So … has your footage of Little Lydia been acting weird? Time
skips? Weird images?”

Vlad shrugged. “Sometimes cameras malfunction.”

“Well, we're going to check it out,” Brunhilde said, snapping her fingers and walking off, clearly
expecting him to follow her.

Some time later a twitchy and irritable Vlad was kneeling on a pillow beside Brunhilde, and the
crazy bitch was fast forwarding through his footage on his large TV in the hot-tub room. “Okay,” she said
as she paused the screen, “She went into her closet this night, dressed like she wanted to go out, and
stayed in there for hours.”

“I assumed she was having fascinating masturbation sessions,” Vlad confessed.

 Brunhilde gave him a relaxed look, similar to a stoner's. Slowly she blinked at him, and then she
said, “No … just … no. That makes no sense, and you know it.” She refocused on the television and
pressed a few more buttons. “Okay, see here, Lydia's holding a snow globe or something, and she stares at
it for fifteen fucking minutes, and then the camera stops recording! It's like she freaking disappears, but
the clock in the corner skips a few hours ahead, so it's like the camera just doesn't give a fuck!” She
pointed at the screen with the remote as she sped through scenes. “She's coming inside her room, from her
damn closet. And have you noticed she talks to her mirror a lot, and when she does she's always dressed.
When she walks around naked, she even makes a point of covering the mirror with a towel!”

Vlad didn't see the point of all this. He never did. “Lydia might have a mental illness. Is that
what you wanted me to admit?”

Brunhilde selected the newest video. “Have you seen this one yet?” He shook his head. Brunhilde
shrugged. “Well, we shall see it together, but keep your pants on, literally, my darling.”

Exhaling, Vlad pinched the skin between his eyebrows, and then he paid attention to the screen,
while trying to keep his penis flaccid.

This video was fairly average. Brunhilde fast forwarded through the parts where Lydia walked
around naked or scantily clad. She pressed play when Lydia started talking to her long mirror. There was
no audio. There never really had been, since he had wanted his imagination to apply sounds, to pretend
she had been saying certain naughty things.

And suddenly, Lydia stopped.

She looked about in apparent confusion.

Then she appeared to look in the general direction of the camera, a puzzled expression wrinkling
her features.
 And then some light, sickly looking, messy hair very gradually slid upwards on the screen. Vlad
held his breath.

Slowly the hair moved, like a flat paper pressed against the screen and pushed upwards. Soon
there was a distinct hairline with pasty, moldy, unpleasant, sore afflicted skin. Then there were stiff
eyes, crazy colored eyes, mad eyes, as motionless as a boulder stuck in earth. Then, as the visage slid up
even more, there was a nose, and an angular wide grin, dark green teeth with bits of insects stuck in the
cracks.

The face stopped. The face was simply frozen on the screen.

“Oh,” Brunhilde simply breathed, as if watching a pretty bird.

Then the eyes moved, around and around, and then dead on the camera.

And then the television went blank.

Vlad thought his hands felt unusually warm and dry, but he didn't react to that feeling.

“You're in trouble,” Brunhilde said in a soft but stern voice, closing her eyes and keeping her neck
straight. “That's a reality warping demon from another world. He's been haunting that girl, and he found
your camera.” Not changing her facial expression, she threw the remote control to one side. It made a
jolting crash sound. Vlad thought she broke the thing, but he wasn't really caring about it. He was staring
at the screen.

“Nu înțeleg.,” Vlad whispered. I don't understand.

 Brunhilde opened her eyes and tilted her head, making a cracking sound. “By default, all cameras
near him don't record him unless he wants them to. When he discovered the camera, he must've wanted
to scare the audience.” She pushed herself up to her feet. “I'll do what I can, but if you get your ass
kicked, it's your fault.”

Vlad's tired face was suddenly tight, and his eyes were wider than usual. He wasn't the only one
haunting Lydia, and he knew that now.

***

Chapter 20

Chapter 20
Stranger and More Curious

(The following scene took place in Lydia Deetz's room, some time in the very recent past.)

Beetlejuice seemed frozen for a moment, and then went away. Normally he was a bit more
relaxed. So, when Lydia saw him fade away in her mirror, she nervously chewed on her lip for a second,
and then whispered, “Beej?”

“Call me, Lyds.” That was all he would say, and so, under her breath, Lydia said his name three
times. There was no grand entrance, no wind, no smoke, no mist, no music. She looked around, and saw him.
He was kneeling against a wall, his back to her, and it really did look odd. His suit looked darker than
normal, gray and black instead of dingy white and black. There was a statue-like stiffness in him that just
wasn't normal.

And then his legs moved, painfully slowly. There was a wooden creaking sound, and Lydia really
didn't understand it.
 When Beetlejuice was standing straight, he paused for a few moments.

“Are you okay?” Lydia asked with a hand on her bosom and a quivering sound in her voice.

And of course, like a damn living doll, Beetlejuice just had to swivel his head around, with more
creaky sounds. His horribly sharp grin, insane eyes, and overall expression frightened Lydia. She gasped,
put her palm to her lips, and nearly backed into her mirror.

Even his teeth seemed to creak as he spoke. “I saw a little light. There's a hole in here, with a
camera.”

“The fuck?” Lydia shook her head.

Without even adjusting his head, Beetlejuice slipped his hand into the wall as if the wall was
made of liquid. There wasn't even a sound to accompany the movement. He pulled out a tiny wireless
video camera that looked very high tech. Then he used his free hand to turn his head back in its right
place, and walked up to Lydia as if nothing weird was going on, except for that hellish expression on his
face. Lydia was afraid to look at his eyes, and she just looked at the camera in his dirty hand.

“Someone … someone's watching me?” It was rather unbelievable for some reason. She couldn't
accept it. She had accepted things considered to be impossible, fanciful, and too magical in her world. She
didn't quite accept this. “I don't get it.”

“I'm gonna search this whole fucking house.”

Her face felt so warm, but her stomach felt cold. “Who do we tell? The police? Dad? Vlad?
Everyone?”

Beetlejuice's eyes seemed to grow and brighten. “Let me find the fucker. I want his dick on a
plate.” His voice shouldn't have been so quiet, but it was, and it was scary. She hadn't been this afraid of
him in years.

“So … so you think it's a guy?” Lydia hugged herself.

“Most likely, probably the same asshole who … well . .” His startling face seemed to loosen a bit,
and his eyes calmed down as he looked at her. “Yeah … you know.”
 That was when Lydia thought she might throw up, but she didn't.

“Hey, Babe,” Beetlejuice said as his voice cooled down to something calmer, “Let me keep the
camera.”

“Why?”

“So I can have a starting point.” He made a small gesture with his hand hovering a few inches
above her head, like he wanted to stroke her hair. “Don't even think about this.”

“I really want to call the cops.”

“And explain to them how we suspect a vampire sorcerer guy might be stalking you?” He tried to
make a friendly smile, but failed. “I wonder how the camera got in your wall.”

With a little mirthless laugh, Lydia pointed at the wall. “I think the camera was actually in the
wall safe Dad got for me. I don't use it, though. I haven't bothered with it in a year.” She asked him to step
aside, and he did so she could walk to the wall. She pushed a tiny button under a mounted shelf. A
medium sized square section of the wall slid aside like a Japanese door, revealing a safe a few inches deep
in the wall. The section of wall that moved really was just made of sturdy wood, made to blend into the
wall.

Beetlejuice seemed to cheer up a bit; he floated over to Lydia instead of walked. “I don't think he
put it in the safe. He just put it here where this space is between the safe and door.” He noticed a little
spider web in the space along with a spider, snatched up the quiet little spider, and said between his
munching of the poor twitching creature, “It's pretty obvious. Your old man's not a good carpenter. He
should've sealed this space up. But,” he tilted his head. Lydia saw that his mouth was shrinking to normal
size. “Why would our culprit put it in front of a safe? I know you don't open the door, but come on, it's a
safe! You would've looked here eventually.”

Feeling a bit more comfortable, Lydia tried not to smile. It was almost like this was a mystery-
themed game. “Well, the combination lock broke. It won't open. I wouldn't even bother now.”

“Well fuck,” Beetlejuice muttered, “this guy's been paying attention.” He swallowed the spider.
“How come you didn't tell me about the safe?”

Lydia folded her arms and pursed her lips. “Was I supposed to?”
 ***

(this scene takes place in the present, one day after Vlad saw Beetlejuice on camera)

It was a cooler autumn night when Mihai found himself hugging a nude and lightly dozing
Prudence in his recently tidied bedroom, on his large bed, laying on their sides.

She still didn't know what was going on here. He rubbed the top of her head with his chin. He
really didn't like the idea of her knowing at all. That meant he couldn't keep her forever. Most things had
endings, and romantic relationships were like this with him.

The moonlight made her skin look like porcelain. The dark shadows made her eyes look hidden.

Mihai wondered if Lydia would be angry over him eventually leaving Prudence behind. He
wondered if Prudence would be too heartbroken. He decided he had to think of a few plans to keep her at
a healthy mental state when he left.

The plump little woman made a cute little combination of a sigh and a whine. That ended his
patience. He carefully slipped away from her, took a dildo, condom, and a tube of lubrication from a
nightstand, and then knelt beside her. He put the objects aside and lightly pushed Prudence onto her back,
which didn't seem to upset her; she kept up her sweet breathing.

Mihai bent down and kissed her mons, then lapped at it with his tongue. This caused Prudence to
flinch, but she stubbornly ignored the sensations and tried to relax. Mihai slid his mouth down to her
labia and teased her there, gently tugging and sucking.

“Aaahhnn …” Prudence lightly rocked her hips.

Mihai found her clitoris and leisurely, carefully, suckled it. Prudence clawed at the bedsheets
and made a low growl in the back of her throat. She almost sounded like a cat.

For a few moments he let her wallow in her own desire, and then gently pressed into her with
the dildo.

He might miss her.

 He just might miss her. He had missed people before. It wasn't impossible.

In a way, Prudence was fortunate. That's what Mihai thought to himself. Prudence would be left
behind. She would be left behind and thought of fondly. Bertha would barely be considered. Claire would
be hated.

Lydia wasn't anywhere near as lucky as her peers. She would never be left behind.

She would never be forgotten.

Later on, when Prudence asked him to fuck her ass, he knew he would think of her fondly, because
she asked so sweetly, as if asking for candy.

Just before he helped her pack up, so he could take her home, Mihai asked her what she thought
of the world. He didn't know why he asked such a ridiculous question. He just knew that he wanted to.

Prudence told him, “The world is a bowl of mixed snacks and dirt and rocks.”

Mihai kissed her cheek, smiled, and said, “I think the world is a ball of chaos.”

“Do you think God really loves the world?” Prudence inquired.

“Why wouldn't he?” replied Mihai.

She fiddled with her fingers, but sweetly answered, “Sometimes I look at people and I wonder if
God will break his promise to never bring another flood to us again.”

Mihai wondered if God even remotely liked most of his followers. Then he wondered why angels
(well, the ones he had seen) are so terrifying.

***

Claire was rather pissed that she was receiving so many negative comments and losing so many
friends on her favorite social networking website.
 “Come on, no cool.”
“Beeeeyotch!”
“Hitler wannabe!”
“Nazi bitch!”
“Dumb bitch! Get back in da kitchen!”

Troll one Jewish girl and the suddenly everyone freaks out, eh?

“I heard wut you did to Danya a few months ago, dafuq?”

“Jelly of Danya, whore?”
“Damn, whatcha got against Jews, gurl?”

It was just … playing around, that's all. Come on … she was right, though … right? Claire's
mom had told her so. Jews are filthy and ugly, right? And Danya was a dumb fat bitch, right? She won't
even eat hotdogs like a normal fat bitch would!

Well, at least she had her real friends.

***

Chapter 21

Chapter 21
Agreement

Author's Note: I will use some French, and please keep in mind I do not understand French, so
there might be problems with my translations. Apologies. Also, I will use the titles of actual video games
in some characters' dialogue. I do not own the rights to these games, and I am making no profit at all.
More apologies, in case I accidentally break a rule or law by referencing them.
 When Beetlejuice heard the knock on his door one early morning, he imagined he knew who it
was. He opened that door, and on the other side was a somewhat tired looking Brunhilde. The woman was
wearing a frumpy and faded 1940s pink polka dot dress, but the skirt had been cut and hemmed up to her
thighs. She was wearing black leggings and masculine biker boots. Her long blood colored hair was hastily
bundled up with a white cloth, leaving some random locks to fall out behind her, and that was not a good
sign. That mean that despite her tired face, she was prepared to fight with her bare hands if needed.

Beetlejuice knew he didn't look so intimidating in his pajamas, but he didn't care at that moment.
He would have made a demand of her right there, but she interrupted his thoughts.

“Where's the camera?” she asked, her voice sounding a little faint.

“You know?” He folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. “It's one of yours, right? That baby of
yours who messed with Lydia?”

Brunhilde rubbed her temple. “I don't want a little war, there are far too many big wars for me
to fret over.”

“Give me his name.”

“What makes you say it's a 'he,' eh?” Brunhilde pulled a bit of her hair under her cloth wrap.

“A woman wouldn't be so perverted,” insisted Beetlejuice, snapping his fingers. His form was
enclosed in magic smoke for only a second, and then he was there again, dressed in his normal nasty
striped suit.

“That's sexist and you know it. Women are just as perverse as men.” Brunhilde gave him a little
smirk. “I do interesting things to certain people's genitals.”

Beetlejuice simply gawked at her a moment.

Suddenly Brunhilde beamed at him. “I don't feel anything sexual when I do it. I just like doing it.”

No, being the type of creature who could warp reality to alter even a person's biological makeup,
Beetlejuice knew he had the potential to do some fucked up surreal shit to people. He just never crossed
that line, for morality's sake.
 Brunhilde's morality was different from his.

He shook his head to get the thoughts out of his head. “I want this guy's name. Vampire or not,
he's dead.”

“Uhm, no. I kind of need this one.”

Beetlejuice's head was starting to turn pink. “For what?!”

She blew air out of her mouth, making a silly sound, and then she shrugged. “I'm not sure.”

A French sounding voice hollered from somewhere outside, and Jacques Lalean, the body
building skeleton walked onto Beetlejuice's front lawn. “Mon ami, why are you screaming?” (Mon ami
means, my friend) He paused near Brunhilde, admired her graceful form, and said, “Ah, bonjour, jolie
femme!” That meant, “Hello, pretty woman!”

Brunhilde pushed her palm to her eye and cheek, a somewhat lazy facepalm. Then she gave the
skeleton a little speech. “Je sais que vous n'avez aucune malice dans votre âme, mais je ne veux pas que
vous flirtez avec moi. Je déteste quand les gens flirtent avec moi. Si vous flirtez avec moi, je vais utiliser
vos os comme un xylophone et d'utiliser votre crâne comme un tambour.”

“What the fuck did she just say?” Beetlejuice asked the skeleton.

Jacque told him, without missing a beat, “She said that she doesn't want me to flirt with her and
she'll use my bones like musical instruments.” The more literal translation is, “I know that you have no
malice in your soul, but I do not want you to flirt with me. I hate when people flirt with me. If you flirt
with me again, I will use your bones as a xylophone and use your skull as a drum.”

“Vous laisserez-vous!” Brunhilde shouted at the skeleton, making a shooing gesture with her
hands. Jacques took the obvious hint and left, waving goodbye to Beetlejuice. What she had shouted was,
“You will leave now!”

Beetlejuice had enough of this stupidity. “I am fully prepared to dig your heart out and stomp on
it!”

“And I am fully prepared to dodge and attack of yours, no matter what form you take.” She put
her left palm on her right bicep and raised her right arm a bit, adding a raised middle finger for
emphasis. This was the French arm of honor, an obscene gesture that translates as, “fuck you.” The raised
middle finger was an optional part of the gesture.
 Beetlejuice knew that Brunhilde and her kind were actually immune to his ability to change
other people's bodies. He could turn Lydia Deetz into an organic and fleshy lawn mower if he wanted to,
but not this woman. He could turn a normal vampire into a fleshy cupcake. He couldn't do that to
Brunhilde.

He could still fight her, though.

“Do you really wanna test me?” he asked, his chest puffing out.

“Not today,” she admitted, but her smile was still too damn cheerful. “I don't have the time, but
maybe we can try again one day. Sounds like a lovely adventure.”

Beetlejuice felt the steam that literally whistled out of his ears. “Why are you protecting this
piece of shit? You don't like it when your babies pull this stuff.”

“What? Do you assume I do not punish my little babies when they do bad things?” Her fingers
twitched in an unnatural way. “I am the sort who literally puts salt in wounds, nasty wounds.”

“Well, it's not working!” Beetlejuice stomped his foot so hard his floor cracked.

Brunhilde looked at his floor, and then up at him with that same smile. “How's this, if the girl is
harassed again, let me know. If it's one of mine, I'll bring the baby to you and let you have your fun, under
my supervision.”

That was when Beetlejuice cooled off a little, his face returning to it's normal color. He knew
that Brunhilde was a bitch. He also knew that Brunhilde kept promises. “That Vlad guy, he's one of yours,
right?”

Brunhilde nodded, but did not change her expression.

“Never met him, but I think he likes Lydia a lot. You gonna make Lydia one of your babies?”

She shrugged. “Probably.”

Beetlejuice cracked his knuckles and leaned back a bit. “Does he know someone's been messing with
Lydia?”
 “Yes,” answered Brunhilde.

“Is he pissed?”

“Oh yes, he is quite pissed in general.”

Before the conversation could get any more dangerous, Brunhilde turned around and said, “Well,
tell Lydia that she's currently under even more protection.” She laughed a bit as she walked off. “I can't
believe all the help I'm giving for someone who's not my baby.”

Later on, Beetlejuice realized that it was a teeny bit odd for Brunhilde to help someone she
didn't have power over to such a degree. Mostly, she left mortals to their own problems; the key word is
mostly.

As for the possibility of Lydia becoming a vampire, he didn't think that was too bad an idea. At
least he wouldn't have to worry too much over her keeling over. Then again, Beetlejuice knew Lydia just
might have different ideas about it if she knew.

***

“I saved your ass!” Brunhilde shouted as she stomped into the mansion the next evening. She made
a dancing sort of gait as she went around searching for Vlad. She found him sitting at a kitchen table,
with a very stylish sort of laptop computer. “Hey, Draky!” She scraped a chair on the floor as she pulled it
near him and then sat down. “I saved you from the reality bending monster! Worship me?”

Nodding, looking at the monitor, Vlad replied, “I am grateful, but right now I am winning a game.”

“If you say The Sims 3, I will laugh my head off.” Brunhilde knew he wasn't playing a video game,
since she had looked at his monitor, but she wanted to make a joke.

Vlad smiled. “No, it is Amnesia The Dark Descent.”

“Something tells me you would hate that game,” Brunhilde said. “So, what fascinating little thing
are you doing?”
 That was when Mihai entered the room. “Este tatăl meu face ceva fascinant?” Is my father
doing something fascinating?

“I am winning the game,” Vlad said simply. Mihai took a seat next to his father and looked at the
monitor. “Another email of yours? What's that attachment?”

Vlad clapped his hands together and looked first at Brunhilde and then at his son, his gray eyes
looking sharper than usual. “Am o poveste minunată să-ți spun.” I have a wonderful story to tell you.

“He's proud of himself,” said Brunhilde.

“That means he's done something bad,” Mihai said. “Spune-ne mai mult, tată.” Tell us more, Dad.

Vlad's teeth looked long to Brunhilde when he smiled at that moment; perhaps it was because he
was in a particularly naughty mood, and the truculence was peeking through.

“Recent, am vizitat domnișoara Claire Brewster.” Recently, I visited Miss Claire Brewster. “Ea a
fost la fel de afectuos și iritant ca ea este în mod normal.” She was as affectionate and irritating as she
normally is. “Am observat că au cumpărat bere, și pentru că nu-mi pasă de siguranța ei nu i-am opri
din consumul fiecare picătură de bere a putut.” I noticed she had purchased beer, and because I do not
care about her safety I did not stop her from consuming every drop of beer she could. “A adormit, și am
ajustat hainele ei, astfel că ea ar presupune că ne-am făcut sex.” She fell asleep, and I adjusted her
clothing so that she would assume that we had had sex.

“Okay, why?” Brunhilde said with a somewhat confused yet sickened tone.

“To fool the bitch,” Mihai clarified. “He is … what do they say? He is leading her on.”

“Why?” Brunhilde again asked. “What did she do?”

Mihai chuckled and rubbed his hands together in an exaggerated way. “She insulted Lydia and
her friends.”
 Waving her hand like a ruler of a country, Brunhilde said to Vlad, “Continue.”

With a nod, Vlad said, “Cu ceva timp în urmă, am angajat pe cineva să mă învețe câteva
abilități ilegale.” Some time ago, I had hired someone to teach me a few illegal skills. “Am învățat că
accesarea computerul ei și adresele de email nu a fost greu pentru mine.” I learned that accessing her
computer and her email addresses was not difficult for me. “Am găsit un videoclip. M-am uitat în
primele două minute, și a decis să utilizeze adresa ei de e-mail pentru a trimite la adresa mea de e-
mail. Acum, vreau să văd video complet.” I found a video. I watched the first two minutes, and decided
to use her email address to send it to my email address. Now, I want to see the complete video.

Mihai's slasher smile almost disturbed Brunhilde, almost. “Open it.” His voice was so clear and soft
that Brunhild thought he almost sounded sexually aroused.

So, Vlad opened the attachment, and all three watched the video.

Soon, Vlad was smiling and pushing his mouth into the back of his hand. “That taller man is one of
the gardeners,” he squeaked out.

Mihai was openly laughing, slapping his leg with his palm. “I wonder who the very short man is.
He's adorable!” Brunhilde was not impressed. The concept of an heiress having a threesome with one of her
family's gardeners and a dwarf wasn't really a new and fascinating thing to her. So, she mostly yawned
and waited for something interesting to happen on the screen.

At one point the gardener went off camera, and when he came back, Mihai pushed his seat a foot
away from the monitor. Vlad starting laughing in earnest. Brunhilde sighed. “Humans can be just like
dolphins,” she said, “Rapists, no matter the species of their victims.”

“Este ca un măgar?!” Mihai cried out. Is that a donkey?! A twist in his mouth that was like a
snarl grew in his mouth.

“Că este un catâr,” corrected Vlad. That is a mule.

 Brunhild put her elbow on the table and her cheek on her palm. “Why are you so shocked, Mihai?
You know how people are.”

Trembling a little, Mihai said, “I know, but I do not look for this sort of entertainment! It
disgusts me!” He covered his ears and closed his eyes, lowering his head. “Că acolo, că era urât.” That
right there, that was nasty.

“Poor donkey,” Brunhilde said with an exhale, “probably has no idea what's going on.”

Vlad stopped the video, still looking pleased with himself.

Mihai sighed, seeming to be relieved. “Mulțumesc.” Thank you.

“So, what are your evil plans, Satan?” Brunhilde teased as she gave Vlad an innocent smile.

***

Chapter 22

Chapter 22
A Truth

Author's Note: I apologize the the uselessly long description of a costume. I love what is called,
“costume porn.” I will make a note in bold so you may skip it if you like.

Lydia received an invitation in the mail. It was for a flashy party at Mihai's mansion. There was
a theme, “Historical Costume.” Guests were expected to dress like someone from another time period,
nobody in particular, just anyone real or imagined. Her parents received similar invitations.

Lydia also received a few packages containing everything needed for three different costumes,
along with a handwritten note from Vlad Dalca.
 Dragi Lydia,

Știu că ești încă supărat pe mine, dar sper să pot găsi iertare. Dacă nu doriți ca aceste
costume, voi înțelege. Cu toate acestea, trebuie să vă rog să vină la acest partid ca un oaspete. De
asemenea, trebuie să te avertizez că prietenii tăi vor fi îmbrăcat ca un oiran și un aristocrat englez
din secolul al 18-lea. Deci, am ales diferite tipuri de costume, în scopul de a sugera că ar trebui să arate
diferit de la ei.

Dearest Lydia,

I know you are still angry with me, but I hope I can find your forgiveness. If you don't want
these costumes, I will understand. However, I must beg you to come to this party as a guest. Also, I must
warn you that your friends will be dressed as an oiran and an English aristocrat of the 18th century. So,
I chose different types of costumes, in order to suggest that you should look different from them.

(Note to the reader, a long description of a red 1885 inspired bustle gown is about to come. It is
very detailed. Feel free to skip over it until you see the next bolded words, if you choose)

It wasn't the most beautiful note in the world, but it was acceptable and sweet. So, she took the
packages to her room, and examined the contents. Each costume had all required accessories, even shoes,
and each costume looked expensive.

The first costume was based on the early 1880s in Western fashion, not Wild West, the Western
part of the world. It was a beautiful evening dress, and among other accessories, it came with a corset, a
reasonable and modern corset that Lydia's completely normal waist could handle wearing. Lydia knew
she could never achieve the fashionable 1880s hourglass look, because that was damn unhealthy. Not
everyone of the time would tight-lace to look so delicate, but many did.

The second costume was based on ancient Greek fashion. Lydia didn't really like it. It was made
of very lovely pale fabric, and came with beautiful jewelry, but Lydia made a mental note to sell the
stuff on the Internet. The costume was good, but she just didn't want to wear it.

The third costume was her favorite. It was a bit similar to the first one, because they were close
in time periods. It was an 1885 costume, an evening gown that included a bustle, to provide a large shelf-
like shape to the backside.
 So, when the time came, Lydia dressed herself in the 1885 costume. The bodice of the gown had a
neckline that was wide and just low enough to be proper for a young woman in 1885 at a ball, and
decorated with white lace edging and a ruby adorned black bowknot in the center. The sleeves were so
short that her shoulders were almost bare. The bodice and overskirt of the gown were a deep blood red,
and the ruffled skirt that was exposed underneath was a pure white and adorned with black bowknots,
which had little rubies in the center of the knots.

Lydia didn't think it was normal to put rubies on the actual dress in 1885, except maybe for court
dress, but she was no expert. The draped red fabric on the bustle supported back of the gown and fell
gracefully down. Lydia had seen 1885 fashion plates with evening gowns that had long trains, but she had
also seen some that did not. She didn't know how to handle a long train, so she was thankful. At the
“shelf” of the back of the gown, closer to her spine, there were two sections with more jeweled black
bowknots, which were probably not historically accurate, but they were interesting.

Her stocking clad feet were put in delicate black shoes with little square heels. She slipped her
arms into white gloves that went a bit past the elbows. There was jewelry in the package, so she put the
gems on. Two bracelets were put on her wrists, rubies and black onyx stones. A black pearl necklace was
placed around her throat, with a lovely star shaped pendant made of diamonds and rubies. Lydia had once
read that brighter gemstones were popular during this period, but she knew she shouldn't complain. She
slipped on a lovely ruby ring on one hand and an equally pretty diamond ring on the other. Then she
arranged her hair in an coiffure with a tight bun on top and a braid looped around it, her bangs curled.
She thought it looked vaguely late Victorian.

When she searched for anything else meant for the costume she found a well made red and black
hand fan with a long black tassel. Lydia had no idea how to properly use a hand fan. She just knew how to
open and close one with curiosity.

She also found, to her very hidden delight, a tiara of silver and diamonds with a ruby at the
center, a smaller onyx stone below. Why a tiara was there, Lydia didn't really know, but it was beautiful,
so she pinned it to her hair to keep it on.

(Note to the reader, the long description of the gown is finished)

“Does this mean you're not mad at him anymore?” Charles asked his daughter as she met him in
the living room. He was dressed like like a 19th century cowboy, complete with a wide brimmed circular
hat and scarf around the neck. Two of Brunhilde's “friends” were sitting quietly in a corner of the room,
reading, and doing their best to be ignored. It was at the point where sometimes Lydia forgot that
Brunhilde's hired friends hung out in her house.

Lydia shrugged and looked away from her father. “No, I'm still pretty pissed, but I think I need
to talk to him anyway.”

“You look great, Honey,” he told her with a supportive smile.

 Delia came in, dressed like a historically accurate saloon girl. Her bold dress had a much lower
neckline than Lydia's, and even Lydia thought she looked sexy. “Well, are we ready to go?”

***

The mansion was brightly lit and even glittering this evening. The main foyer was full of people
of all shapes. Lydia all sorts of costumes, including European Medieval kings and queens, Victorian
governesses and street thieves, Chinese aristocrats, even people who dressed like ancient Middle Eastern
people, and Romans, and Greeks, and there was even a woman who dressed like an ancient Cretan, with
nipple pasties for modern modesty.

There was music, dancing, and people watching Internet videos on a large TV in a corner, sitting
in various chairs and sofas.

Lydia was immediately approached by a young man dressed as a samurai and asked to dance.
Hoping Vlad would notice and maybe get jealous, she agreed. Dancing in a modern way while wearing a
bustle dress was slightly more difficult than she thought. She wasn't accustomed to the extra weight and
restriction on her waist, but she did her best. Once she was done, she excused herself and found her
parents sitting at the TV with other guests. Some random man on the TV screen was performing a stupid
stunt.

She sat down beside her parents and took some refreshments from a nearby table. She found that
most people in this area were people she knew.

Prudence was there, dressed in a wide gold 18th century gown, taking up the a lot of space on a
sofa. She had more lace and bows than most people in the room, and she looked adorable. Prudence wasn't
wearing glasses, so Lydia assumed she had contact lenses. Her reddish hair was looking rather tall and
powdered, with feathers bouncing about. “How have you been, Lydia?” she asked, smiling.

Lydia made a loud exhale, but smiled back. “Haven't seen you in a while, except for school. I'm fine,
but you look like a cupcake I'd eat.”

Bertha was there, and she laughed. She was dressed like an oiran, a sort of courtesan from Japan.
She had on a convincing black wig with multiple hair sticks and bright ornaments. Her robe looked like it
had multiple layers, and her obi sash was correctly tied in the front. Lydia thought she looked pregnant.
“I haven't seen you in a while, either. Where have you been?”

“Home,” replied Lydia, tilting her head a little.

 Claire was there, and she didn't speak to Lydia, but she did give Lydia some of the nastiest looks.
Claire was dressed as an 1855 girl at a ball, or at least that's sort of what she looked like. The neckline
was a little bit too low, and the pink and white zebra pattern was damn confusing. Her hairstyle was
more 1950s than 1850s, but Lydia didn't think it was fair to judge. The skirt was wide enough for the 1850s;
Claire took up the most space. She even had a tall sparkly tiara.

Mihai was there, and he was beside Prudence, in a chair, and he was holding her manicured hand.
His costume was that of an 18th century male aristocrat, heeled shoes and embroidered jacket with a
powdered wig. He turned to look at his father, who was sitting the closest to the television and had the
remote control and keyboard. “Lydia looks like a perfect little princess,” Mihai told him. “Charles must
have excellent genes.”

With a smile that felt too warm, Vlad looked at Lydia's face and said, “Such a delight.” He was
dressed like a Viking, but not a very flashy one, complete with a plain cloak and his hair in a simple side
braid.

Charles made an amused sound with his throat. “No Sir, her mother had the good genes.” He was a
little more relaxed than he usually would be around Vlad, and Lydia didn't know if it was a good sign or
not.

Suddenly Mihai said, “I sent my father an email with a funny video.” He looked back to his father
and asked, “Did you check your email? Perhaps everyone here would like to see it.”

Vlad nodded his head. “I do not mind showing everyone this email. I have nothing to hide there.”

Her stomach suddenly feeling shaky, Lydia sensed that something bad was going to happen. The
men's voices … something about them.

Vlad closed the window on the screen and went to his email account, the one that he apparently
didn't mind showing to all these people. Lydia heard Bertha say, “I bet it's a video of Mihai in a dress,
falling flat on his face.”

“Probably,” agreed Prudence, kissing Mihai on the cheek. Mihai nuzzled her ear.

“Mihai, I see your email, but what's this?” Vlad said in a tone that was too innocent for Lydia's
tastes.

“Not mine,” Mihai said as he started twirling a purposely stray lock of Prudence's hair.
 Claire spoke up. “Is that my email?”

Vlad nodded to her. “Yes. You must have forgotten that you sent this to me. Do you remember
what it is?”

She shook her head, her blue eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Open it,” Mihai said. “It's probably something cute.”

So, Vlad opened the attachment.

Nobody in that area of the room spoke at first. Some came over there to stand and watch in
amazement.

Claire's cheeks looked darker, and her hands were shaking. “Stop the fucking video!! !”

“The screen is frozen,” Vlad countered, but Lydia knew he was lying. Claire shot up, her skirt
making a swishy and crinkly sound. She tried to take the remote away from Vlad, put he gently put his
hand on her shoulder and shoved her down at his feet, holding the remote upwards. “Claire, I was not
aware that you liked your gardener so well. There is no shame in this, but I am concerned because you
never told me about him … or the shorter man.”

Okay, now he was being obvious.

People were starting to whisper to each other. Mihai laughed, and that started more laughter
among the guests. Prudence covered her eyes. Bertha was beginning to laugh too, and so were Lydia's
parents.

Noticeable tears were dripping from Claire's eyes, and that was when the furry animal came in.

Lydia screamed and jumped out of her seat. She really did not want to see that. She ran away,
went up the stairs, and sped down a hallway to the last room down said hallway. It was a small but chic
guest room.

Meanwhile, Vlad looked down at Claire with the best imitation of a certain smiling cat. She
stared up at him, seeming to understand that Vlad knew exactly how that video got in his email. He said,
just loud enough for the heiress to hear, “The concept of someone like me, someone with excellent tastes,
ever being interested in your affections is fairly ridiculous. Now I know to never touch you again.” He
winked at her. “And, please, realize that you are not allowed to say hateful things about Lydia.”

He stopped the video, stood up, picked something up from where Lydia had sat, and left Claire to
the other guests, who laughed at her and called her all sorts of things. Claire starting sobbing quite
loudly, and she fled the building, knocking over a vase with her skirt in the process. The pretty vase
broke into pieces; it might have been made of glass or porcelain.

Back in the guest room, Lydia was trying to get the images out of her head, and then she
remembered what Vlad had once said. “I plan on making a point to Claire.”

Damn.

Claire wasn't a murderous gangster. She was just some dumb rich bitch, a dumb rich bitch with a
thing for bestiality, but still … to show that to everyone …

At least he didn't but it on the Internet … she thought.

Lydia's eyes widened in both sympathy and fear. If he put that shit on the Internet … Lydia
might kill herself if something like that had happened to herself.

The door opened, not even a knock warned her. Vlad came in and cleared his throat. She looked
up at him, biting her lip He closed the door behind him, and Lydia noticed that he turned the little lock
on the doorknob.

She couldn't help it. She had to ask. “Did you record that shit?”

He shook his head and put his hands behind his back. “I found the video in her computer.” He
looked damn pleased with himself. “She was unconscious when I found it, far too much beer. I also made
her think I slept with her.”

“Whhhhhhy?” Lydia said, elongating the word in her speech, quirking her head a little.

His smile widened, and Lydia could almost swear that his teeth looked longer. “I had to play the
part, Dragă.” That last word was a term of endearment.
 Lydia's corset was pressing on her, as it should have, but since it was combined with her sudden
emotional sickness she thought she was either going to vomit or faint.

“She wept, Lydia,” Vlad informed her as he stepped closer and halted a few inches away from her
dress' hem. “She wept, and it was beautiful.” There was a tingling air about his voice, similar to the times
when Vlad had told Lydia how beautiful he thought she was. Yet, this was a different sort of excitement,
and Lydia was genuinely afraid. She refused to look at his face, and focused on his knee instead. “I wanted
her to shatter like porcelain, gently held in my hand, and then without any kindness, hurled into
concrete. I do believe I succeeded.”

Very slowly, Lydia's head moved side to side, as if saying no carefully. Her lips were a little bit
parted, and her dark eyes were shimmering. “What would you do if I pissed you off?”

Vlad crouched down to look into her terrified eyes, his own eyes so firm yet loving that Lydia
thought she would cry from the intensity. She was trembling.

His fingers jerked up before her face, fully opening her hand fan with a quick click of a sound. Her
body jerked a bit, and she yelped.

“I would lock you away,” he said very quietly. “I would lock you away, and every day I would
come to you and remind you of something extremely dear to both our hearts.”

“Something?” She gripped the bed cover with her hopelessly shaking hands. “What's the
something?”

His fingers pulled the fan closer to his face, hiding his eyes. Then, slowly, very slowly, he closed
the fan.

She got the feeling he was using a code.

What she didn't know what that he was using a code, in a funny way, since he was a man. Long
ago, women would use props to flirt. When a woman hid her eyes behind an open fan, it usually meant, “I
love you.” When a woman closed an open fan slowly, it usually meant, “I promise to marry you.”

Vlad put her hand fan into her loose fingers, and used his own finger to tighten hers. He didn't
stop looking at her face.
 “I want to be seen in public with you, Lydia. I want to begin the courtship.” Vlad leaned in and
pressed his lips to the corner of Lydia's mouth. She didn't know what to say to him, and she didn't know if
she could say anything.

***

Chapter 23

Chapter 23
A Claim

“Your ears are bare, Dragă Lydia,” Vlad whispered to against her lips. “I should give you your
earrings.”

Vlad straightened up and gave her his hand. Reluctantly, Lydia took it. Just a short time ago she
thought she might have gotten over Vlad's weirdness, wanted to be closer to him again, and then he
pulled that stunt with the video.

She wondered if, once this business with the gangsters was over, she could break up with him
without any problems. After a few seconds worth of walking with him, she thought maybe she couldn't.
Lydia thought it was wise to not give a word to him, not even a questioning look as he led her out of the
room and down the hallway. A servant at the end handed Vlad a box that looked too wide and long to
contain earrings. He didn't open the box there. He led her back to the party, where people were still
buzzing about the incident.

Lydia saw her parents talking with someone; her father saw her and gave her an almost pitying
look. Vlad nodded at the man, and moved his head down to nuzzle Lydia's cheek. Lydia tried not to make a
squeaky noise of protest.

“You should smile, Lydia,” Vlad told her as he sat her down in a black and gold loveseat sofa,
where a large group of people could observe them. He opened the case and showed her the contents. There
was a pair of earrings, shaped out of silver to form little discs with familiar looking dragon symbols. Each
little medallion earring was surrounded by little rubies, with a dangling, pearl cut diamond. There was
also an envelope.
 Vlad made quite a show of telling her, loudly, that her ears were very pretty, and it was almost
shameful that they had once been impaled in the lobes. Yet, fashion was fashion, and Lydia suffered no
true harm. So, as he continued to praise her, making a lot of people take notice and start whispering about
them, Vlad personally put the earrings on her ears. Then he handed her the envelope, and didn't tell her
what was inside it at first.

Lydia suddenly felt like all the stares of the party guests were digging into her, and she pressed
herself deeper into the sofa, her dress making typical pressed fabric sounds.

Thinking it was best to hurry along, she opened the envelope. Inside was a debit/credit card. She
wanted to look at him and ask a question, but she didn't.

Vlad told her, “I opened another account for you. This one has enough money for your college
education.”

That was when Charles and Delia came up to them. “Is everything alright?” Delia asked with an
almost sincere smile.

Vlad didn't look at Delia; he just stroked Lydia's jaw with his fingers. Lydia didn't know if she
should be grateful or frightened. She was too afraid of saying something unintentionally devastating to
respond to anyone.

“Forgive me, Mrs. Deetz,” said Vlad, “I am distracted. I gave Lydia access to funds for her
education, but she seems too shocked to respond.”

Charles nodded his head, but there was a twitch in his eyelid. “I'd be shocked too.”

Lydia saw Vlad's fingers go to her wrist and squeeze in a playful way.

“I will put this card away for now,” he told her. “You should focus on how you glitter and put
everyone to shame.”

To her quiet disquiet, Vlad put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a gentle but
firm hug. Strange as it was, Lydia had the desire to poke his eye with her hand fan. She ignored it,
though.

Charles and Deetz pulled up some chairs and sat near the couple. They tried to talk of nicer
things, things like the lovely food and decorations, and everyone's lovely costumes. Vlad seemed willing
to act friendly to them. Lydia just remained quiet, and when she was addressed, she didn't give a verbal
reply. Her parents didn't press her much. They seemed to understand that she was a bit distressed. Vlad
didn't press her much either. He seemed content to just hold and admire her.

Her throat was itchy at one point, and so she got out of Vlad's embrace and stood up, planning on
getting a beverage. Vlad rather possessively pulled her by her arm close to him and asked her what she
needed. She coughed into her elbow and then said quietly, “I'm thirsty.”

Vlad made a gesture to a servant, who came with a tray of drinks. Lydia took some soda and
sipped gradually. She paused when a woman dressed as an Italian maiden of the Renaissance approached
her and complimented her costume. Lydia nodded, and said thank you, but she couldn't smile.

“Recently there have been a number of films and series based on the mid to late 19th century,”
Vlad said with a placid face. “I do believe people have become more interested in the elaborate fashions.”

“Well,” said the woman, “you look like a doll.”

Lydia put her drink down and told Vlad, “I feel kind of sick.”

“You are welcome to rest in any room you like,” Vlad told her as he gently rubbed her arm. Lydia
took that as her cue to get up and walk off. She walked upstairs and went to a different guest room. Not
even removing her jewelry, she purposely fell onto the bed, her feet lightly touching the floor. For a few
moments she just laid there, hoping that perhaps she could nap.

And then she heard screaming. Lydia moved to get off the bed, but she felt a someone grab her by
her hair and push a smelly cloth to her nose, and she even though she tried to fight, the man was
stronger than her. It seemed he wanted to make her breathe in the chemical for as long as possible.

***

A few minutes after Lydia had left to go to the room, Vlad saw someone walking around, not
wearing a costume. It was Brunhilde, and she was talking on a cell phone, ignoring the people around her.
When she was done, she put her phone in her jeans pocket and screamed out with her hands to her face,
“THERE ARE MANIACS WITH GUNS OUTSIDE!! ! EVERYONE TO THE BASEMENT!! !”

People were screaming, and some panicked.

Immediately Mihai started leading groups to the basement, while certain people stayed behind,
giving Mihai nods. Charles yelled, “Lydia!” Vlad pushed him and his wife in Mihai's direction, telling them
he'd get Lydia. Vlad ran upstairs, and he ran at a supernatural pace. He could smell her sweetness, which
stood out upstairs like a trail of rose petals, and he also smelled a man and some chemical. He found Lydia
struggling on a bed with a man.

His reaction was to grab him by his neck and rip out most of his throat, using only his hands.
Some of the blood splattered onto the dazed Lydia. The man fell down, clutching what was left of his
throat, gurgling and coughing. Vlad stomped his head in with his foot, making a chilling crunching sound
and even more of a bloody mess, and then the man stopped moving.

Vlad wiped some of the gore off of his hands with his cloak, removed it from his shoulders, and
then he picked Lydia up into his embrace. She was coughing and sneezing, but lucid enough. She clung to
his arms, and then looked down at the man, and turned a little green. Vlad bent her over so she could
vomit onto the floor, then he wiped her mouth with a clean part of his cloak, and put the cloak over the
dead man.

There were gunshots, beastly growling, and screaming. “Vino,” he told Lydia, pulling her over to
the window. Vino means come. He saw that the window was open, meaning the man had come from there,
probably had a ladder. He changed his mind, saying, “Ușă.” That meant door. So he took a very confused
but docile Lydia out the room and rushed her down the hallway, but away from the chaos.

He decided to take her to a small bathroom that didn't have a window. He placed Lydia on the
edge of the bathtub and locked the door. Then he took a rag from a shelf, and some soap, and made a good
lather. Vlad went to her and washed her face, then rinsed, and washed her face again. Lydia didn't
protest, which was smart of her. This stuff needed to be washed away.

“The fuck is going on?” she asked him as he washed the second time.

“The Passerini family decided to be idiots,” Vlad explained.

Vlad found some lotions in a cabinet and put some on her face. Lydia gave him a mildly puzzled
look, but she didn't hinder him.

“So,” Lydia said, “are people getting shot?”

“Almost everyone is in the basement.” Vlad patted her cheek. “Brunhilde and … our gang is
dealing with the Passerini men.”

“Then what's with the growling?” Lydia said, mild crinkles forming in her brow. “Are there dogs
down there?”
 Vlad said yes a bit too quickly. Then he said, “We can wait here until the violence dies.”

Lydia started rubbing her eyes, and she lowered her head. “Vlad, there aren't dogs down there,
are there?”

He sensed she was mentally weaving something together, and he tried not to react to it.

“Vlad … did you kill that guy? With your hands?”

He didn't answer that.

Lydia's body shook a little, and she sobbed. “Vlad? Is Brunhilde sometimes called queen?”

He sat on the closed lid of the toilet near the bathtub, uncertain if this was the best time to
explain. When she looked up at him, though, with a nearly panicked face and tears shining on her face, he
thought that he should.

So, he reached out his hand. “Vino la mine, și voi explica,” he instructed very gently. Come to me,
and I will explain.

Lydia was still shaking, and that really made his heart throb like a wound. She took his hand, and
Vlad pulled her up to sit in his lap. “Am fost un om,” he whispered into her ear. I was a human. “Ele au fost
toate om, cu excepția pentru ei.” They were all human, except for her.

The poor dear woman's face shot up to gawk at him. He thought he sensed recognition or
realization in her eyes, but he didn't want to acknowledge it. Vlad suddenly found himself desperate to
seem less frightening, and so he said, “Do you like teen romance novels with vampires?”

Her eyes narrowed. A gunshot that sounded a bit close went off, and she flinched, pressing closer
to him and abandoning the irritated expression.

Vlad patted her back and then rubbed it lightly. “Dragă, sunt un vampir.” Sweetheart, I am a
vampire.
 “Oh.” She looked down at a ring on her finger. “I … oh … really … that's … oh.”

“Lydia?” He touched her hand, but didn't grip it.

“Vlad … I … I think I'll just play along. I'll just … take things a little at a time. You
know?” She sighed. “But, when this is over … we need to talk about it.”

“You're very accepting of this. Are vampires not fiction in your mind?”

A horrible slam of a sound accompanied by a man's pain dipped scream was heard. Lydia jumped a
bit. Vlad held her tighter.

“Vlad … I don't want to hear much about it, ok?”

“I understand.”

***

A simple black car drove up to the mansion.

A man in a long coat exited the car and let himself inside.

Costumed people were having a sort of violence orgy with darkly dressed men. It was loud.
There was so much blood, so much screaming and crying. They were biting and sucking on the men's
throats, wrists, and various wounds. Some of the men weren't alive anymore. Some of the men were
missing limbs. Some were just torsos. Some costumed people were sucking on bloody limbs and digits.

He tried to ignore them. Luckily, they mostly ignored him. Some looked at him, but they seemed
to know why he was there, and so they left him alone.

She found him first, the woman who called, the woman with the long blood colored curly hair.
 She approached him, winked, and led him upstairs, where it wasn't quite so loud. They went into a
large bathroom with a large window. She leaned against the closed door and grinned at him. There was a
bound and gagged man in the bathtub, struggling, chained to the faucet, unable to free himself.

“Brunhilde,” the man said in a monotone voice.

“Hi,” said Brunhilde. “Good to see you, Agent Stillwell. I need you to flash your pretty badge at
the people in the basement, okay? Tell them everything's fine.”

“Is everything fine?” the man asked.

“Give me some time, and this gang will be destroyed.” She flipped her hair. She almost looked
cute, almost.

“I wish more gangs would harass you. Then we wouldn't have to investigate so many.”

Brunhilde pointed at the man in the bathtub. “I'm going to keep him for a bit, get some
information, and then send him home, possibly disfigured.”

“Sounds like you,” the man said.

“Help yourself to any food you want. I'll call you when we've put the bodies out of the building.”
Brunhilde grinned and shooed him out of the bathroom. “Relax! Relax!”

How he was going to relax, he wasn't sure.

***

Sometime later, all the confused and buzzing guests and servants were in the large basement,
which was really a home theater/game room. Mihai and another man were guarding the door to the
stairs when the man in the long coat knocked on the door and said he was from the F.B.I.

Mihai let him in, and shook his hand. Then he yelled at everyone to shut the hell up, because an
F.B.I. agent was here. Mostly they complied, although some still spoke in low voices. The man held out his
badge and waved it about, high above his head. “My name is Gregory Stillwell! I'm an agent from F.B.I.! The
police had dealt with the shooters, and I have launched an investigation!”
 Mihai rolled his eyes, knowing what was going on.

“I'll ask some of you a few questions, but I think I have all the information I need! Some men
have already been arrested, and most of them were shot dead! I'm going to ask you all to remain calm
when you leave this basement! Please remain calm! Understand! There is a lot of blood in the house. It's
not pretty.”

As the group left the basement, gasping at the blood stains all over the home, Charles said
quietly to his wife, so nobody else could hear him, “I'm not an expert, but this looks like too much blood.”

***

They spent the remaining time without speaking. Lydia didn't look at Vlad, and Vlad kept his chin
on Lydia's head.

Mihai knocked on the door and called out to them. Lydia got up to let Vlad open the door.

“Everyone is leaving,” Mihai told Vlad. “The situation was handled.”

“Lydia knows about what we are,” Vlad told Mihai.

The younger man put his hand to his mouth, and he peered over at Lydia, who looked strangely
defeated. “Ce altceva mai știe ea?” What else does she know?

Vlad shook his head. “Nu te optimist despre asta.” Don't get hopeful about that.

Lydia knew there was more going on, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to know.

***

Chapter 24
Chapter 24
Reluctance and Aggression

Author's Note: I noticed that some of my chapters have blank spaces at the end, and I'm not sure why. I
apologize.

When Charles and Delia found Lydia with Vlad, safe and standing in a corner of the bloody foyer, they
both hugged her and cried and sobbed about how worried they were. Lydia appreciated the concern, and
she hugged them back.

She wanted to go home with them, but Vlad held her hand and asked, “Will you please stay with me?”
Delia took up a rare antagonistic behavior with him. She pointed at him with a shaking finger, and
shrieked, “She needs to be with her family!”
Vlad didn't even raise his voice. He just nodded to the woman, telling her, “I do understand, but I feel
that I need to coddle her. I want to take her on a short vacation to a lovely hotel near a shopping
district.” He patted Lydia's gloved arm gently. There was still a little dried blood on his hands, but for
some reason Lydia wasn't too concerned with it.
“What happened to you guys, anyway?” Charles asked.
“I found her,” said Vlad, “but a man was trying to make her breathe in something, and he was not gentle. I
killed him, and then I took her to a bathroom. I locked the door and tended to her face.”
Delia's mouth formed something of an O. Charles took a moment to mutter, “Try to relax. Try to relax.”
Then he composed himself with a sigh. “You shot him? Makes sense, but did Lydia get hurt?”
Lydia shook her head. “I'm fine, Dad.”
Then Charles seemed to actually relax, his face seemed looser and less painful. “That's great, I'm so glad
you're okay, Pumpkin.” He hugged her again.
She hadn't even thought of that fact. Vlad saved her life.
No matter how afraid she had been of him, or how mean she had been to him … he still saved her life.
Vlad didn't really want her to get hurt.
Lydia pulled away from her father with a gentle smile and then took Vlad's hand. She wasn't sure why
she gripped it so tightly, but she did. She pressed her face into his chest and said, “I could use a vacation,
but I have school.”
Vlad ran his fingers through her scalp. It gave her a yummy shivering sensation. “We will be gone for
only a few days.”
That was when F.B.I. agent Stillwell approached the group. He showed off his badge and said, “Agent
Stillwell, F.B.I. I might borrow some of you guys for questioning, is that alright?”
“I have nothing to hide,” Vlad told him. Lydia knew that was a lie for obvious reasons.
The agent turned to Lydia and said, “You know, we can help you get an excuse for your professors."
Then he asked to speak with Delia alone. It seemed pretty random. Lydia gave Vlad a questioning look,
and Vlad gave her a sneaky little smile. That was when Lydia assumed the agent was working with
Brunhilde, and was interviewing people simply for show.
She figured she understood why. A bunch of people died today. No need for the police to investigate and
reveal vampires to the world. She brushed the concern out of her head and said to Vlad, “Three days.
That's the most I want to stay out of school.”
***
The “investigation” was terminated unusually quickly, thanks to Brunhilde, and the crime scene was
released to be cleaned up by any cleaning company hired. Mihai personally hired one, and paid them extra
to do a speedier job.
Mihai took a leaf out of his father's book and decided to stay in a hotel. He planned on visiting Prudence,
though. The servants were temporarily dismissed, but still paid for the days. Brunhilde stayed in the
mansion; she had promised to look after it. Vlad assumed she would splash around in his hottub like a
child.
Vlad took Lydia to a small but luxurious hotel. Lydia was surprised learn that those two women, Gina and
Marleen the shopping assistants, would be coming with them. It was mid-morning when they arrived, and
Vlad politely told her that he would collapse on a bed for a few hours. So, he made certain she had plenty
of cash and her gifted credit card, fell face first onto the bed, not even taking off his shoes, and slept
immediately. Lydia thought that was very comical; she had to stop herself from giggling. She had never
seen this elegant, intimidating, almost aristocratic man in a state of such exhaustion.
Lydia took a moment to sit on the edge of the bed and look about the place. It was a lovely suite,
complete with a little kitchen/dining area, a little den area with a TV and a sofa, a large closet, and a
strangely large bathroom. She felt like she was in a lovely apartment instead of a hotel suite.
She had slept in the limousine on the way to the hotel, so Lydia wasn't tired. She also knew that Vlad
expected her to spend more of his money. She felt guilty, but she didn't want to spend all day in the hotel
suite, no matter how luxurious it felt in there.
Lydia went to the room Gina and Marleen shared and asked them if they were free. Marleen said that for
what Mr. Dalca paid them, they would always be free. Lydia decided to take them out for breakfast. Once
breakfast was done, they found a beauty spa. They offered time in tanning beds, or even spray tanning, but
Lydia wasn't interested in that. When an employee told her about a gym that was nearby, in case she
wanted to lose weight (which probably wasn't appropriate to bring up), Lydia told that employee to
“watch it” because as she said, “I don't wanna hear it.” Lydia and her two assistants (who really were just
paid to hang out with her and make her feel important) took facials, manicures, pedicures, and a quick
massage. Then they went to lunch in a little restaurant that served mostly Asian food.
After lunch, they lurked about a video game store, then a book store, and then a music store. Lydia found
the temptation to look at shoes too difficult to resist. They went to a very luxurious looking shoe store
and stared at everything kind of like a lioness does to prey. There was a pair of zebra print booties worth
close to $2,000 that Lydia really wanted to buy, but she felt that she had spent enough on the spa
treatments. Then she found a pair of black stilettos with large red fabric roses on the side of the ankle
straps. She wanted them pretty badly. She wasn't immune to shoe hunger. Sadly, they were $3,000 for
reasons she couldn't understand.
They left the temptations of the shoe store (Lydia wondered how in the world the place stayed in
business with such prices). The trio decided to hang out in a mall, in a makeup store. Lydia saw a lovely
folly crimson lipstick. Normally Lydia liked purples and dark reds, but this was such a lovely bright color
that she decided it was worth the money.
She decided to apologize to Vlad when she got back to the hotel, not that she thought Vlad would be
angry. His desire to make his claims on her obvious was evident. She believed she was becoming a
combination between a kept woman and a pet. She didn't want this to last long. The perks were fantastic,
but she just didn't think being too involved with vampires was a healthy thing.
Brunhilde is fucking terrifying.
Still, Lydia thought she should try fucking Vlad, even though it would hurt her. It wasn't fair for a man
to spend all that money on a woman he wanted without getting laid.
They took an early dinner at a pizza place, and then Lydia decided to go back to the hotel. When she was
back in the suite, Vlad was still face down on the daintily made bed. Lydia left him alone as she went to
take a shower. She was finished blow drying her hair when she heard a knock on the bathroom door.
“Lydia, cum te simți?” Lydia, how are you feeling?
“Bine,” she replied to Vlad. Okay.
She wanted to try on her lipstick, but assumed it would just make a mess. So, she simply dried her nude
body and opened the door. He was standing there, not really looking like prey. Lydia pounced anyway.
Her arms clutched him desperately and although her mouth missed at first, touching his throat, she
pulled herself up and kissed his lips.
Vlad stepped back, but he held her and groaned. He managed to kick his shoes off, but when Lydia gripped
his backside he seemed to stumble. He straightened, though, and took Lydia to the bed, leaning over her.
He was touching her breast in a way that she loved, squeezing and caressing and playing with her nipple
between his fingers. Lydia tugged on his pants, but he took her hands and put them above her head on the
bed. He suckled the flesh over her jugular vein. Lydia whimpered and shivered.
“Te rog, te rog, te simti minunat pentru mine,” she whined. Please, please, you feel wonderful to me.
“Iubită,” he murmured against her neck. Darling.
“Hnnm . .” Lydia tried to free her wrists; she wanted to pull off his shirt. Vlad didn't let her go at first. He
gave her a teasing grin with a hint of cruel triumph, like he had won something. Lydia didn't care, since
she thought she wasn't losing anything at all. She just pulled at his hands again and quirked her eyebrow
at him.
Rather softly, he laughed at her, a smiling sort of laugh. Then he gripped her hips and moved off the bed.
Lydia found her lower body raised, while Vlad stood and held her crotch to his face.
He licked her so carefully; Lydia hollered out a curse and then pushed her hand to her mouth. Her other
hand scratched at the bedclothes. When he attentively sucked her then throbbing clitoris, she screamed
and rocked her hips.
“Prea mult! Nuuuu!” she sobbed. Too much! Noooo!
He didn't seem to be in a merciful mood, and so she was compelled to make all sorts of noise as if in a
possessed fit. She thought her body was being electrocuted, even though she wasn't sure what that even
felt like. Lydia was somewhat aware of one of her legs flailing about.
Her face felt like it was buzzing, and her body felt hot. She screamed hard enough to make her throat
hurt. He put her hips and legs down. Lydia started coughing; her throat wasn't approving of this. She
heard Vlad adjusting his pants, but her head was turned and she didn't see that.
Then he was upon her. His face went to her throat, kissing and nibbling, and he just thrust himself inside.
And it hurt like fucking hell.
Lydia clawed at his shoulders. Her throat started to burn, but she bawled out her fears anyway. The only
thing she didn't do was beg him to stop.
He didn't act like he wanted to stop. He was growling and hissing in an unnatural way, pounding himself
into her, and Lydia mentally prayed to any gods out there to make him cum soon. She stared up at the
ceiling, wishing her mind could be as serene and calm as the simple paint color there. His long hair
bounced into her face at times, and she ignored that.
It just went on. Lydia wondered if Vlad even knew where he was. He was starting to spit out words that
sounded foreign, and sometimes he looked down at her with a surprised face she didn't like.
At one point, it started to hurt maybe a little bit less, but that was when he put longer pauses between
his thrusts, and acted like he wanted to go deeper. He wept out a peculiar sound that reminded Lydia of a
whale. Something fell on her cheek. She touched it with her fingers. It was a tear.
He pulled her to him and fell on his side, shivering worse than a terrified child. Again, he pushed his face
into her throat. When Lydia felt his shaft soften and slip out of her, she sighed. She examined him and
noticed he had simply pulled his pants to his ankles. He certainly had been eager, Poor Dear.
Lydia still didn't want to do this again. She felt like someone had ripped her in half and then pushed the
halves back together.
When she heard him say her name, she said, “This can't last forever, Vlad.”
“Hhmmm?”
She turned her body around, to face away from him. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't let you give me money …
because I don't want this . .” This was difficult to say, because it sort of hurt her feelings, and her voice
was dying out because of the screaming. “Vlad … I don't want to be your girlfriend.”
A lamp was tossed over her and against the wall, where it crashed into pieces. She gasped.
This would not end well.
***

Chapter 25

Chapter 25
The Confrontation

Author's Note: This is a friendly reminder that I do not understand Romanian, and so I will use
the Internet for translations. Please understand that along with typos in English there will be worse
mistakes in Romanian.

She was too afraid to react very much to that broken lamp. Lydia considered calling Beetlejuice,
but she knew that would be dangerous. He was best saved for emergencies.
 So, without turning around, she said, “I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you!”

Vlad put his arms around her from behind. They were pretty thick arms, and Lydia felt like she
was trapped. She shivered at his breath. It was ticking her ear. “N-ar fi trebuit aruncat lampa,” he
whispered. I shouldn't have thrown the lamp. “Poți să mă ierți?” Can you forgive me?

“Tu ești înfricoșător,” she murmured like a five year old afraid of the dark. You're scary.

Vlad sighed, and he squeezed her a little tighter. “Te iubesc.” I love you.

“De ce?” Why?

“Love is blind, nu?” Nu means no; in this context it was like he was saying right in a questioning
way. There was a perk in his voice, like was trying to cheer her up.

Lydia hated that saying. “Love is not blind. Love just makes you blind. I'm also not stupid enough
to never look a gift horse in the mouth. I will always look every damn horse in the mouth.”

“Este atât de greu de crezut?” Is it so difficult to believe? Vlad squeezed her breast, but Lydia
ignored it.

“Citi ani aveti?” she asked him, wanting to get it out of the way. How old are you? He didn't tell
her at first. Lydia lightly tapped his ribs with her elbow. “Spune-mi!” Tell me!

His exhale blew against her hair. “M-am născut în secolul al 15-lea.” I was born in the 15th
century.

“Oh!” She tried to slip out of his arms, but he held her tightly. “Lasă-mă să te ridici!” Let me get
up!

“Te vreau aici, cu mine.” I want you here, with me.

Impatiently Lydia blurted out, “Tâmpit!” That word means asshole. “I'm too young for you!”
 “Aproape toată lumea este prea tânăr pentru mine!” Almost everyone is too young for me!

Her face was starting to feel tingly and warm. “Nu vreau pe cineva care să mă vezi
îmbătrânesc și mor și apoi du-te la altcineva.” I don't want someone who will watch me grow old and
die and then go to someone else.

“Lydia,” Vlad said as he started kissing her neck. “Favorit, Odor, Amantă, Mândră.” These were
all affectionate names. “Ne puteți schimba.” We can change you. “Brunhilde aprobă.” Brunhilde approves.

Ah shit.

It didn't take more than a second for Lydia to understand what he was suggesting. She starting
fighting in his arms in earnest, shouting obscenities in English and Romanian. Vlad didn't give in, though.
He held her down.

“Care nu va fi obligat pe tine!” he informed her. That won't be forced on you!

That statement calmed her down, but she did pant a bit. “Okay … you sure?”

“Absolut.” Absolutely. “One is only forced to become a vampire when Brunhilde demands it.” He
reached up to pet her head. “You are optional to her.”

“People have been forced?!” Lydia started coughing again. She sounded pretty hoarse. Vlad finally
released her and got out of bed. He pulled his pants up and said he would get her some water. Lydia
wasn't going to bitch about that. She just sat up and took the glass of water he handed her once he
returned.

Vlad sat down next to her and rubbed her shoulder in a way that felt too damn good for Lydia's
taste. Once she had swallowed all the water, he took the glass and set it aside, saying, “My son was
forced.”

She put her hands to her heart and gave Vlad a startled look. “Mihai? He's really your son, and
she did that to him?”
 “Da.” Yes. Vlad didn't seem perturbed at all. Apparently he got over it a long time ago. He leaned
into her and starting kissing her throat again. Lydia moved away, but he gripped her waist and yanked
her to him. She yelped, but wasn't harmed. He pressed his hand to her cheek and held her face, kissing her
mouth and lightly stroking her with his fingertips. Then he hugged her, rubbing her back, and he asked,
“Vreti sa va casatoriti cu mine?” Would you marry me?

“No!” Lydia made an attempt at shoving him off. She was not successful.

“Eu vă va oferi un inel făcut de Sevan Bıçakçı,” he offered in a honeyed voice, his eyes lighter
and relaxed. I will give you a ring made by Sevan Bıçakçı. Sevan Bıçakçı is an award winning famous
Turkish jeweler known for his fantastic statement jewelry. His work is often expensive, for good reason.

Lydia didn't really recognize the name. “I don't care if you give me a copy of The Queen's
Necklace in Château de Breteuil!” She was referencing the famous necklace of “The Affair of the Diamond
Necklace.”

“I could have a copy made, if you like,” he said.

She still shook her head. That was when his jaw tightened and his eyes seemed to freeze. Then, he
very calmly got off the bed, put his hand on a nightstand, and then flung it against the wall. The banging
sound jolted Lydia's heart, and she scrambled away from him. She went into the bathroom, locked the
door, and sat in the bathtub.

Judging by the wordless crashing, shattering, and all around destructive noises on the other side
of the door, Lydia assumed he was pretty much wrecking the hotel suite. She thought this was probably a
bad sign. He couldn't handle his temper. What if he really lost control of himself and hurt her? This
wasn't a normal man. This was a vampire. In general, seemed careful enough to hide as much of his
demonic side as possible form her, but now he was pissed off and breaking furniture. The man didn't yell,
didn't scream, didn't growl like an animal. He just broke shit.

Lydia hugged her knees.

It was really dark when it was finally quiet.

Vlad knocked on the door.

 “Dragă, we are going to another hotel.” He was so curt, like he was discussing boring business
details.

“Uhm … Okay?” Lydia backed up in the tub. “Why?”

“I broke everything in this suite and I believe I will not be welcome here.”

“Oh …. well … why did you do that?”

“I was angry.”

Lydia rubbed her eye, feeling a little tired. “I need to take a shower. There's dry blood on my
thighs, and semen.”

“You could have bathed some time ago.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. She carefully climbed out of the bathtub and fumbled around, searching
for a light-switch.

***

The four people, Vlad, Lydia, Gina, and Marleen, all stood at the receptionist's desk, and Vlad
very briskly told her, “I have destroyed the suite.”

The receptionist was a very gentle looking older woman. Lydia didn't like how startled she
looked. It almost made her feel ashamed, almost, not quite.

Vlad was quit blunt, and Lydia was too. They also had very unamused faces and tones. Gina and
Marleen tried to keep their happy smiles, but they found that this just wasn't funny to them.

“Mr. 'I don't know how to process my emotions past the level of a toddler' had a fit,” Lydia said
with a straight face and complete lack of mocking tone.
 “I am prepared to pay for the damages,” Vlad said.

The receptionist mouthed the word, “Wow.”

Lydia blinked and tried not to punch Vlad in his stomach; she really wanted to punch him in his
stomach. “It looks like a tornado hit the place.”

***

Vlad took the ladies to a different but still luxurious hotel. It was a little farther away from
the shopping district, but gave all three ladies some extra cash to apologize for his behavior and the
inconvenience. They didn't stay in the hotel. Vlad took them to a restaurant, even though the women
weren't too hungry. Vlad ate a blue rare steak with grilled potatoes while the women nibbled on light
salads.

One of the assistants mentioned that Lydia had wanted certain pairs of shoes but didn't buy
them, which made Lydia blush. As if scolding her, Vlad told her that tomorrow she should buy those
shoes. Lydia stuffed her mouth full of lettuce to keep herself from cursing at him.

Vlad decided to take them to a theater to see a movie. A lovely historical drama was on, set in
the 1680s in France, and so they picked it. Lydia didn't really like the movie. It was too talky and showed
too much sex for no reason except to show it. She actually fell asleep during the film.

It started to get late, but Vlad, being an obvious night owl, took them to a 24 hour bowling alley.
It turned out that none of them were good at bowling.

So, they went back to the hotel, and Lydia firmly told Vlad that she was exhausted and wanted
to sleep. Her vagina had been throbbing and burning all night. He left her alone, didn't even lay down.
Vlad just sat in an armchair and read, of all things, a lady's fashion magazine. Sometimes he circled things
with a red marker. When he was done, and Lydia was in a fairly deep sleep, he took his laptop from his
suitcase and entertained himself with it.

***

“Guess what I heard!” Brunhilde said in a very cheerful tone as she crouched down and poked the
bundle in the thin cloth bag with an electric cattle prod, smiling at the painful jerks and yowls coming
from inside. “I heard that you really hurt a little boy, a lot. Not kosher, man.” She wasn't smiling, despite
her voice's tone. “You'll be dealt with, Sweetie. No worries there.”
 She was in a guest room in the mansion. There was a clanking sound inside the tightly closed bag
on the floor, and that was because the person inside was bound with chains, special chains that had been
dipped in her blood.

“You really thought this was a ticket to freedom? Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh?” She poked him again.
The electricity was rather pretty. “Well, it's not. I have rules, Baby. I have agents, Love. I don't let you
all do everything you please. I made certain you knew this.”

***

Chapter 26

Chapter 26
The Hearing

Author's Note: Ridiculous Costume Porn is ahead. Bolded statements should warn you so you may
skip it if you choose. Also, this might be a long chapter. Finally, I should tell you that a certain very
controversial word will be used, but censored. Normally I wouldn't censor a word, but I've noticed people
have been angry when you use this word when talking about the word itself. I don't want to risk it.

The morning and afternoon was spent with shopping and eating and spa treatments. Lydia bought
the two pairs shoes she had wanted, and pretended she didn't want to buy them.

When she got back to the hotel suite, the sun was starting to set, and Vlad was waiting for her.
He asked her to try on the pretty shoes she bought and parade around the suite for him. Her outfit wasn't
very sexy, just a skirt and a simple top. Still, Lydia sighed and put on the zebra print booties for him. She
made a cheesy smile and danced about. Then she nearly twisted her ankle as she tripped. Vlad supported
her and kissed her cheek.

“Stai cu mine,” he said to her gently. Sit with me.

Lydia didn't know how to tell him no without causing another argument. She sat with him and
let him stroke her back and waist and kiss her mouth.

She was sort of trapped. She knew it.

 His hands went under her knee-length skirt. He caressed her thigh.

“Nnnnnnnnnnnn … Încearcă să nu-mi facă rău,” Lydia said to him in a whisper of a voice.
Try not to hurt me.

“Acest moment este a ta, Dragă.” This moment is yours, Darling. Then he hushed so he could slip
his tongue into her mouth.

She was trapped. Wasn't this technically an abusive relationship?

He was rubbing his fingers against her panties. It was a very warm and throbbing feeling. “Aahh
… Vlad … please!”

He moved his hand away so he could pull her shirt off, then her bra. Vlad bent down to kiss and
suck her nipple, pinching the other one with his fingers. Suddenly her body was shaking and she pressed
her thighs together. Every little tug felt like it was pulling at her insides, teasing her.

She was trapped and she wondered if she could escape.

Vlad's free hand went under her panties and his fingers slipped inside her hidden moisture. She
sobbed a little, but loved it.

Did she even want to escape?

Vlad moved his head up and whispered into her ear, “Ești speriat?” Are you frightened?

Of course.

Lydia shook her head, but he only pushed a bit harder with the pads of his fingers, playing games
with her g-spot. She gasped and moaned out sounds that didn't really make sense.
 He nudged her down onto the bed. Vlad leaned over her and put his tongue into her mouth again.
Lydia closed her eyes, feeling her mind relax and her body kick into excitement.

Did most people want to escape this sort of thing?

He licked at her ear, and then said, “Lasă-mă să te văd.” Let me see you.

Lydia pushed her new shoes off her feet and started pulling off her skirt. Vlad moved his hand
aside and he started to disrobe too. Lydia pulled her socks off and laid back on the bed.

When he was undressed, Vlad went to her and held her for a few minutes. He kissed her scalp
and inhaled her scent. Lydia sort of felt like a teddy bear. Then he touched her between her thighs again,
and Lydia was soon whining.

He moved on top of her and nudged her thighs apart; Lydia took a sharp breath, and then he was
pushing inside of her.

It didn't hurt as much as it did last time, and there was something in there that she liked. Lydia
put her hands in Vlad's hair and made a strange mewling sound. He responded by sucking her breast and
pumping in a leisurely manner, forcing her insides to endure every inch.

“Da! E minunat!” Yes! It's wonderful! Lydia encircled his waist with her legs.

Vlad's fingers were tight on her hips. He made a sad sort of whine that confused Lydia, but she
didn't mind. He was giving her a nice, slow, yummy moment.

And then it intensified. He reared back and pulled her legs from his waist to straight up against
him. It felt like he was going deeper, and it hurt a little more. Lydia started making ah ah ah ah ah
noises. Her feet felt strained from her toes curling.

And then she felt the most beautiful explosion in her lower region, and it throbbed and spread up
into her mind.

She was trapped in a gilded cage.

***
 It was time for them to go home when Vlad got a text message in the morning. He took Lydia's
hand just before she touched the exit door of their hotel suite.

“Lydia, Brunhilde has arranged an … emergency hearing. She said you may come if you wish.”

Lydia had been in a pretty good mood up until then. Sex, shopping, more sex … and then Vlad
just had to drop this bombshell on her. Lydia's relaxed and dreamy smile pulled into a tight and pursed
position.

“The fuck does she want me for?”

“You should come. Normally, only vampires may attend these hearings. Be grateful.”

So, Vlad took her home, but told her parents there was an emergency involving the Passerinis,
and he needed Lydia for some time in the evening. He whispered to Lydia that this was a lie. This did not
involve any gangsters.

He told Lydia she will need to dress very formally and pompously, as if she was at a royal court.
He also told her something that was a little odd. Before he left her at home, he went to her room for a
moment to speak privately with her.

Vlad took her hands, kissed them, and said, “Vampiri cresc vechi.” Vampires do grow old. “Eu sunt
bătrân. Multe vampirii sunt vechi. Vom merge în forme noastre naturale. Cele mai multe dintre noi va
arata vechi.” I am old. Many vampires are old. We will go in our natural forms. Most of us will look old.

“Okaaaaay.” Lydia shrugged. “So?”

“Eu nu va arata foarte frumos.” I will not look very pretty.

“So?” Lydia didn't see the problem. “Vampires can go back to looking young. Why do you care how
you'll look?”

“Nu vreau să crezi că sunt urâtă.” I don't want you to think I'm ugly.
 He had the cutest puppy dog expression. Lydia wanted to say, “Aaaaaawwwww.”

“I probably won't wanna bone you while you're wrinkly, but I'm not gonna judge you for it.”

So, even vampires had insecurities.

Then he said, “I've made a few phone calls, and three people will come to your home to assist
you.” He winked at her. “Long ago, Brunhilde warned me that you would come to a hearing eventually.
I've prepared some things for you. Now, I must go and sleep. I will collect you soon.”

***

The doorbell rang only a few moments after Vlad left. Lydia went downstairs.

She looked at two of Brunhilde's “babies” in her home, who were in the living room, and were
obviously vampires now that she thought about it, and asked, “Are you guys going to the hearing?”

They told her no; they still had to watch over the house here. Lydia shrugged and went to the
front door. Three women greeted her, dressed in business suits, with fancy up-do hairstyles. They had a
lot of packages with them, and helped themselves inside. They said that Mr. Dalca had sent them with
gifts to help her get ready for the party.

Apparently, they thought she was going to a party.

Apparently, Vlad wanted her to have options, the most pompous options ever.

In the packages there were so many lovely things! Lydia knew she didn't have room in her closet.
There was a box of cosmetics she knew she didn't really need. There were different lovely dresses full of
princess worthy poofiness. There were slinky sexy dresses worthy of elegant porn. Different cultures and
periods in history influenced the design of the clothes, and Lydia was impressed with Vlad's
thoughtfulness. There was a ridiculous amount of jewelry. Some of it was clearly made with a Hindu
bride in mind. Some of it reminded Lydia of Elizabeth Taylor.

(A ridiculous clothing description is coming; just know she's wearing a gold and black gown with
medieval long sleeves, a red Asian dragon pattern, and a heavy braided hairstyle)
 With the help of the three women, Lydia had her hair styled in a large and round shape, with
her put in a long braid and coiled tightly about her head. They weaved in extensions in the braid to give
more height once it was wrapped several times. It was a little heavy; Lydia knew she would get a neck-
ache. They pressed pretty thin hair sticks into the braids, sticks that showed off faux flowers made of
fabric and jewels. Then they put in lovely golden butterfly ornaments into the hair. A single loose lock of
hair was allowed to fall down from the back and over her shoulder, lightly curled. Overall, the hairstyle
made Lydia think of Korea.

She took a break to eat a quick lunch while the women took out modern crinolines, and bustles,
and corset-like things, and all sorts of undergarments to shape a fancy modern court dress. They also
showed off the clothing that would need such devices. Lydia decided on something that consumed less
space.

She put on a sleeveless, and somehow low cut, fitted long dress made of golden fabric, with a
rather long train (she hoped Vlad would carry her train for her). The lovely shimmering gold fabric was
graced by a dark red Asian looking dragon, with white fur. The daring neckline had a white lacy ruffle
peeking out at the bosom. There were a set of detached sleeves, which were very long and bell shaped,
similar to an early medieval lady's sleeves. There was more of the dark red dragon's serpentine body on
the sleeves. More lace was shown, large bell shaped under-sleeves to peek out from the long sleeves. Near
the bottoms of the sleeves and the hem of the gown, there was a careful fading of gold to black. There
was lace peeking from the hem of the gown, which Lydia thought to be very ostentatious.

A white and thick silk sash belt was tied about her waist at an angle, with a large, flower shaped,
bow on her hip, decorated with sparkly black gems.

She put on an elaborate gold and ruby necklace which covered most of her exposed skin above her
neckline. Then she put on matching dangling earrings and slipped on black silk gloves and white diamond
rings.

(The ridiculous costume description is over)

Lydia slipped on low heeled black shoes and looked outside. It wasn't quite dark yet. So, she had
an early dinner with the assistants and then wrapped a towel over herself so they could apply makeup to
her face. The whole point was to look really bold; so, she put on a slightly pale foundation. Then, Lydia
asked them to put intense red and black eyeshadow on her lids and a very deep red on her lips. Her blush
was a lighter red, but still pretty red.

“Want a geisha look?” one of the women asked. Lydia told her she didn't know how to keep that
look perfect for more than five minutes.

Her parents complimented her, but seemed worried, as usual. Lydia didn't know what to tell
them, except that she just had to go, and she had to be dressed like a princess in a fantasy novel.

Vlad arrived in a limousine a few minutes after sunset.

 He didn't get out of the car. The driver greeted her instead, and opened the door for her. When
Lydia slipped inside and pulled her train onto the car floor, she found a startling person sitting to her
opposite.

It was lit up inside, and there was a man, a somewhat thin looking man in a long chocolate brown
robe with a pattern of shimmering gold tree branches. There was a long, partially open, second robe, blood
red with silver and golden swirling patterns, and the train as long as hers.

There was long braided white hair, a receding hairline, and a face so pale and gray and wrinkled
that Lydia blankly stared at it, not sure what to say. His eyes were so much older, his sad gray eyes. His
jaw was tight.

“Vlad?”

He nodded and then gestured to Lydia's right. His fingernails looked longer. His hands looked
bonier.

Lydia looked to her right.

Why hadn't she noticed the equally pale but thinner man next to her? He was dressed like an
early Victorian dandy, an aged Victorian dandy, who had long white hair despite Victorian tastes
denying that as an option, and had sparkly brooches and rings. He even held a cane with a gem on it.

“Let me guess,” Lydia said lightly.

“You don't have to,” said the old dandy, in a lightly hoarse yet familiar voice. It was Mihai, and
he smiled at her. “That man is your dear lover, and I am his dear son.”

She looked from Vlad to Mihai and back again. She wasn't particularly surprised, but she did find
this situation to be interesting. “You look like a wizard, and you look like a Victorian ghost.”

Vlad spoke. His voice was deeper, and it seemed to hold more gravel in the sound. “You are not
afraid?”

“No … you two just got all wrinkly.” She shrugged. “You guys are still the same, right?”
 Mihai laughed at her, and it almost was as startling as his father's normal laugh. He turned off
the lights with a few switches.

***

The hearing was to be held at an old abandoned warehouse, but they didn't park at the
warehouse. They parked a good 5 minutes walking distance away. Lydia was soon walking in the night
with Vlad behind her, holding up her train, and Mihai behind him and holding up his father's train. It was
kind of ridiculous. Halfway there, a woman wearing a somewhat 1560s inspired gown starting walking
near them, in the same direction. She smiled at the group, holding up her skirt. Lydia noted the woman
had a very old face, but very plump. A middle aged looking man came up to them too, dressed in the
weirdest combination of a 1970s punk and a 1400s English nobleman Lydia had ever seen, if she had seen
any.

A few more elaborately dressed people suddenly were walking their way. Most of them seemed
old. Lydia tried not to look them in their eyes. They were vampires, and they were vampires who didn't
know her.

Once they got inside, Lydia found herself delightfully disappointed. It looked just like the inside
of an abandoned warehouse, except there were cheap tables bearing average looking food, decent chairs,
and sofas. There were cheap old lights, bulbs that gave off yellow and not the energy saving white. She
had hoped for something grand, like the inside of the warehouse secretly looking like a ballroom inside.
There were a large number of people, mostly old looking. Some people looked uncomfortable in their fancy
clothing.

As they found their seats, Lydia asked Mihai, “Why are we supposed to dress like this?”

The way he smiled at her made him seemed to lengthen the lines around his mouth. His teeth
were clean, but they looked somewhat yellow when compared to his skin. “A long time ago, at a hearing,
Brunhilde appeared dressed like an ancient Chinese emperor. Ever since then, her guests have tried to
look as formal and fabulous as possible. Brunhilde thinks it's charming, and so she encourages the
tradition.”

For a few minutes, people chatted and munched on food. Lydia noticed that most of the liquid in
people's cups was blood. She just took cold water. Vlad and Mihai made short conversations with people,
but refused to introduce her, and everyone else refused to speak to her. They certainly smiled at her, or
at least gave her snobby sniffs and rolled their eyes. There seemed to be a rule here that Lydia didn't
understand.

And finally, a few people rang some loud handbells. People stopped talking. At the end of the
room, where there was a pyramid of large wooden crates, Brunhilde leisurely climbed up to the top from
behind. Her shoes made interesting and slow tapping sounds.
 Her hair was simply tied back with a rubber band and bouncing behind her. Her outfit was not
simple. She was wearing a kimono specifically made for a maiko (apprentice geisha). It was a cobalt blue
kimono, with pink butterflies and white flowers in the fabric. She even wore an obi in just the way a
maiko would, dangling in the back. It was a lovely obi, black with red octagons. Brunhilde even wore
traditional geta for a maiko, the tall okobo wooden sandals, with tabi socks.

Brunhilde stood on the very top box. She was very graceful and didn't even tremble. Her face was
in a very cool state. Free of cosmetics as usual, the only unnatural thing about her face was the lack of
emotion.

“Babies,” the woman said solemnly, “we have two orders of business, depending on how the first
order is taken care of.”

Lydia had no idea what that implied.

“Now, babies, which one of you has my pad thingy?” Someone rushed up to her, but tripped over his
long cape. Nobody laughed. Nobody seemed to care. He handed Brunhile an iPad and went back to his seat.

Tapping and sliding her fingers on the screen, Brunhilde told everyone, “First, we have a rapist
here, and a confession.” She looked up for a moment. “No, he did not know he was being recorded.” She held
out the iPad, and the same cape wearing man went up to get it. He pressed a button, held it out to the
people closest to him, and let them watch. He had the volume loud enough that even Lydia, with her
normal human hearing, could hear it.

There was a tanned man on the screen. He was laughing and playing Five Finger Fillet with his
fingers and a chef's knife. “Fucked his ass good!” he was saying, his eyes kind of wild. “Beat the ni---r while
I was at it!”

“You're crazy,” said someone else on the video, in a fake playful tone.

“That punk ass ni---r's crazy! He bawls like a bitch too.”

The cape wearing man stopped the video and put away the device.

Brunhilde made a very Japanese looking bow, and then she straightened and told everyone, “I've
been told about the victim, nice little boy, happens to be black. There are medical records. He was bitten a
few times too.” Her voice faded a little as she said, “bitten a few times too.” A pitying sadness was there,
but Brunhilde's face remained cold. “He is eleven years old.”
 Several people in the room gasped, or at least made a physical gesture of alarm.
Lydia found that she was calm, but inside she knew she wasn't very pleased. A vampire had raped
a child, bit the poor kid … while he was at it … while he was . .

She tried to hold someone's hand. She found Vlad's. He was surprisingly hairy in old age, she
assumed. Some moon colored hair poked out from his sleeve and brushed up against her hand. She
imagined there was likely hair all over his arms and chest and back. Lydia knew that sometimes old
people were just hairy, no big deal. She squeezed his hand, and she felt him squeeze back.

Her eyes focused on Brunhilde, wondering what on earth that woman had planned. Her hair was
starting to really hurt her neck, and she rubbed her nape with her free palm.

“Now,” continued Brunhilde, “Bring in the naughty one, to give him a chance to speak.”

From a door behind Brunhilde, two men burst in, carrying a long and coffin-like box. They
slammed the box before the boxes Brunhilde stood on and opened the lid. They stood near the box, stiff and
calm. That was when Brunhilde serenely climbed down to the long box, her back straight. How she did this
in a constricting kimono, in tall okobo sandals, Lydia wasn't sure.

Very calmly, Brunhilde went down to her knees and knelt as if she would bow. She did not bow.
She unceremoniously shoved up one of her long furisode sleeves, exposing her skin all the way up to her
elbow. Then Brunhilde reached down and yanked up from the coffin-like box a man by his neck. The man
had a gag ball in his mouth, but he looked pissed. He was trembling and his eyes were strangely red, the
irises, not the whites of his eyes.

“You may speak now,” Brunhilde told him as she removed his gag ball. He didn't speak then. He just
sunk his teeth into her hand.

Again, people gasped. Lydia heard Mihai slap his face in an aggressive facepalm.

Brunhilde did not flinch, recoil, or even change the expression on her face. Blood oozed out from
her hand.

She simply adjusted his jaw with her other hand and freed herself. Then, as she held his neck
again, she reached behind herself. The man started screeching out obscene words and phrases, especially
the nasty N-word. Brunhilde pulled up one of her thick wooden sandals, and then she whacked the man in
his nose, which made his scream. She hit him so hard that the wooden show broke, and so did the man's
nose. It bled, and Lydia tried not to cringe at the sight.
 “Lovely, if you'd rather not speak for yourself,” scolded Brunhilde, her voice louder, “then we
shall go on the the judgment!” She cried out to the guests, “What shall his punishment be?!”

That was then the people buzzed with suggestions.

“Burn him!”

“Drain him!”

“Skin him!”

“Shove your kanabo up his ass!”

That last one came from Mihai. Lydia snorted. She didn't want to laugh, but she almost did.

Then Vlad stood up and shouted out, “Consume him!” His voice seemed to ring through Lydia's
throat, shoulders, and vagina. Lydia shivered and fiddled with her earrings.

In general the other guests started agreeing with Vlad.

“Yeah, consume him!”

“Give him to us!”

“I want his bones!”

The accused rapist didn't react anymore than weeping over his nose. Lydia wondered if he had a
mental problem.

A long smile grew on Brunhilde's face, and her beautiful blue eyes lit up with pleasure. “Do you
want his blood? His bones? His flesh?!” They cheered.
 Lydia looked up at Vlad as he sat back down. He gave her an apologetic look, but still smiled. He
leaned into her ear and said, “This will be violent. You may flee.”

She shot up and gathered the extra length of her dress into her hands.

“Then take him!” Brunhilde yelled as she threw the accused rapist into the crowd like he was a
rag doll.

By the time Lydia was outside the main door, she was already hearing the screaming, the
laughing, the horrible ripping and crunching sounds. She closed her eyes and covered her ears.

“Are you frightened?”

Shaking, Lydia looked up and saw Mihai, looking so very very tired . . and sad … and sort of
brittle. His smile was so fake it seemed like it was painted on.

Lydia didn't want to speak. She wanted to scream. So she did, took a deep breath and screamed
right at Mihai. He didn't react at all to that, except to say, “This will not last, but the room will be
bloody.”

“Oh my God, I have to go back in there?!” Lydia hugged herself and started shaking her head in a
partial rocking motion.

“Yes, Lydia. The hearing is not over yet.”

She screamed again.

***

Chapter 27

Chapter 27
No Choice
Author's Note: I'm having issues with the fonts changing without my doing. Apologies if this is a problem.
At some point, Mihai reached out to her and held her.

“The world is violent,” he told her in a tone that sounded motherly, which was odd, considering he was a
man. He patted her shoulder. “This only a small section of violence in the world. We've promised to
protect you, but we can't stop violence from happening.”
“Vlad encouraged it!” she wailed into Mihai's fancy jacket.
“He was only doing what was expected.” He touched her cheek. He was wearing gloves; Lydia liked the soft
texture of the fabric. “If Brunhilde did not ask us what we wanted, she would have made that rapist's
suffering much longer. She would have kept that man for weeks. Fortunately, the man will only be eaten,
and die today.”
“Why do I have to go back inside?” Lydia asked as she started to nervously tug at her hair. Mihai gently
restrained her hands before she ruined her pretty round hairstyle and put her hands at her sides.
“I don't know, Lydia.”
***
Vlad was the one who called them back inside. His beautiful robes had blood stains marring the fabric. His
teeth looked darker, and Lydia just knew he had joined the others in the … execution. The thought
made her feel a bit sick. She wondered if her face looked blue or green. Drinking blood is one thing, but
eating another person is just … ew.
Inside the warehouse, there was blood, lots of blood, and to Lydia's barely restrained horror, there were
various bones poking out of people's pockets and bags and such. Some people actually gnawed on bones in
their seats. Everyone had pretty much ruined their outfits with all the blood, except Brunhilde, who
stood without shoes at the top of the crate pyramid again. The woman looked as if she hadn't touched any
thing bloody at all. When Lydia and her companions took their seats again (seats that were hurriedly
covered with a towel), Brunhilde raised both of her hands to get everyone's attention. Lydia saw that
none of her hands had any bite wounds on them. Evidently, the queen of the vampires had lovely healing
powers.
“Well, now that the first order of business is taken care of, we can move on to the second.” Brunhilde put
her hands at her sides. “Our population has decreased by one. I'd like to take another. I've decided on a
young woman, very intelligent, very sweet in the heart. Her name is Prudence.”
What?
Lydia shot out of her seat and shrieked out, “NO!” Vlad yanked her down and pushed his sleeve into her
mouth, ruining her lipstick. She tried to struggle, but of course, he was tougher than she could hope to be.
The other guests made a point of staring at her, but nobody else said anything to Lydia.
To her mild surprise Mihai got up too and stomped up to the crates, and that made a few other people
whisper to each other. Lydia heard Vlad blurt out, “Mihnea! Nu!”
Why did he call Mihai Mihnea?
Mihai had left his pretty cane behind, and stared up at Brunhilde with his fingers twitching at his sides.
“Why Prudence?!” He sounded so angry that Lydia wondered if he would burst into flames. He certainly
looked flammable enough.
“He knows her?” whispered someone near Lydia. Lydia wanted to yell at that someone for some reason.
Brunhilde looked down at Mihai with a very mild look on her face. “I like her. She'll be mine.”
“Perhaps I won't let you.” Mihai thundered out at her. “What of that?”
Everybody in the audience expressed shock in different ways, gasping, putting their hands to their faces,
saying something like, “oh my god!” Vlad bent over in his seat and rubbed his temples. Lydia just sat in her
seat, looking around and not sure what to do.
Brunhilde's face didn't change. Neither did her voice. “You love that girl, in your way.”
It was an accusation that made people whisper even more. Mihai was trembling. He looked like he wanted
to run away.
“Then, my little one,” Brunhilde said, “if that is true, I most certainly must do this, and personally.”
Mihai dropped to his knees. “Give her a choice!” His voice was shaking almost as much as his body.
“No.” Brunhilde flipped her hair and turned around. “You are all dismissed.” Immediately people started to
leave. Brunhilde used a back door.
And that was when Mihai screamed.
Vlad got up and went to him. He got him to his feet and rubbed his face with his sleeve. Lydia saw that
there were strange dark purple tears on Mihai's face. She knew some demons wept with tears that were
different than humans, but this just looked weird. Mihai's face looked different too. His face looked …
inhuman … his nose blending into his face … almost like something aquatic, and his eyes were a
wicked sort of red. He had fangs, and they seemed to glint … and he was panting like a hot dog, looking
out at nothing.
Vlad said something Lydia didn't understand, and then left his son, his long train sliding against the
dirty floor and making a harsh sound. He took Lydia's hand and pulled her up. “We will leave him here to
simmer. Come.”
“Why Prudence?” Lydia gripped Vlad's arm and tried not to vomit. “Why her?”
He shook his head and kissed her cheek. “The best decision is to accept this. If Prudence's fate is cruel, it
will not be because of Brunhilde.”
She shot out the question, “How is forcing someone to be a vampire not cruel?!” One person gave her a
disapproving look, but walked away.
Vlad wrapped his arm about her shoulders. “This is a very complex situation. Just know that you are not
allowed to warn her. If you do, she might hurt you.”
“Oh God!” Lydia didn't realize she was crying until she pressed her face into Vlad's chest.
He stroked her back and held her for a short moment, and then told her, “He can find his way home. Come
now.”
***
For the next few days, everything was … well quite dull. She got the occasional friendly text from
Vlad, and she pretended to be happy about it, but in reality she was waiting for news about Prudence.
On a Saturday morning, Lydia drank coffee with her stepmother Delia and her friend Bertha in the
kitchen. One of Brunhikde's selected vampires was sitting with them, a young looking male vampire
wearing sunglasses. His name was Keith. Delia tried to make polite conversation with the man, and he was
friendly enough. Lydia had told Bertha that the man was distant relative, and everyone involved stuck
with the lie.
At one point, Lydia looked out a window and noticed a figure far away, peeking from behind a tree. She
whispered to the Keith, “Guy out the window.”
The man whispered back, “I know.”
Bertha gave Lydia a confused look, but Lydia ignored it and offered her friend a cookie.
After Bertha had left them a few minutes later, taking with her many yummy cookies, Lydia looked out
the kitchen window again. The man was still there. He seemed to be taking photos with a camera.
“What if someone attacks Bertha?” she said to the vampire.
Keith shrugged. “They won't.”
Delia set down her cup. “How do you know?”
“They're not interested in her,” Keith told them as he leaned back in his seat.
Suddenly Lydia's cellphone in her pocket buzzed. She pulled her phone out and saw it was a text from
Vlad.
“L-ai văzut pe Mihai?” Have you seen Mihai?
She imagined that man had wanted some time to himself. She hoped he was going to be okay.
“Nu,” she typed out on her phone. Nu meant no. Lydia sent him another message. “Did you go back to get
him?”
Vlad responded with, “Nu.”
“He's prob ok,” texted Lydia.
“Please use complete words,” replied Vlad.
Lydia responded with, “U R so gr8 & fun OMFG! ;3” Then she tried not to laugh. Delia noticed her amused
face and smiled at her.
Vlad texted her back. “Please have dinner with me tonight.”
“LOL wut will I ware? OMG! Gotta go shoppin!” Lydia actually laughed that time and then told her
stepmother she was going shopping.
***
Lydia picked her favorite sexy black stockings, imagining that Vlad would get to see them, whether she
wanted him to or not. She put on a long dark blue dress, so dark it was almost black, with a Queen Anne
neckline and mild trumpet sleeves. Lydia put on a simple, thin diamond and emerald necklace with a
slightly large emerald pendant. She put emerald drop earring in her lobes, wondering if they were too
big. Lydia then styled her hair in a messy bun. She slipped her feet into black wedge heels.
The limousine came around 6:30pm. Lydia snatched up her little black purse and went to the car. Nobody
was in the back. It seemed he was to meet him at the restaurant; and she didn't even know what the name
of the place was.
It turned out to be a fancy place, as expected. It was named, “Chaleur Agréable.” That happened to be
French for, “Pleasant Warmth.”
She was walked to a lovely, cozy table, where Vlad was waiting for her. He looked rather sophisticated in
his black suit, golden undershirt, and black tie. He was wearing a ring besides his normal silver one. His
second ring had a beautiful square ruby.
Before Lydia sat down, Vlad got up to kiss her hand and then kiss her mouth. “I love to see you in more
colorful clothing,” he told her. He pushed her seat back for her. “You appear lovelier than normal.”
“Well … I guess.” She shrugged and forced a smile.
“Are you still upset because of the incidents?”
“The incidents, yeah.” She nodded and weakly laughed. “I … I think I can understand … you know
… see why it was done.” She looked down at her menu. “I don't want to talk about it. I'm about to eat
… so … duh?”
“Duh?” Vlad said with a little amusement.
“Duh.” She nodded her head quite firmly. “Duh. I'm about to eat. So … so don't bug me about that. I
wanna be a Stepford Smiler.”
A waiter came and asked them if they were ready to order. Vlad ordered some steak and potatoes, and
Lydia decided to pick out chicken and potatoes. They asked for grape juice to drink and appetizers.
Once the waiter had poured them their drinks and left, Vlad asked her, “What is a Stepford Smiler?”
“You know the sort of wife who puts on a facade? Puts up with all the bad things in her family? Tries to
make everybody think everything's okay when it's not?”
Vlad tilted his head a little. “Is that not what most wives do?”
“I don't know, but a wife needs to try to deal with the problems instead of just tolerating them.” Lydia
took a sip of her juice. It was very sweet, but tangy too.
“Are you certain that you have not heard from my son?”
Lydia exhaled and stared down at her beverage. “I wish. The guy's a hundred times more torn up than me,
and it's weird.”
“You are a Stepford Smiler. You are not allowed to show how torn you are.” He reached out to stroke her
hand, smiling gently.
Lydia wasn't sure if she wanted to hold his hand or yank her hand away. So, she just exhaled again.
They received the appetizers. Lydia was grateful for something to munch on. “Brunhilde will find Mihai,
won't she?”
“Brunhilde or one of her agents, but only if he stays missing for a long time.”
Lydia smoothed a slight wrinkle in her dress. She looked to her left and saw Claire Brewster and a young
man walk to a table a few feet away.
Lowering her voice, Lydia told Vlad, “Don't look, but Claire is here.”
“Donkey fucker?” Vlad whispered, grinning. “Or, mule fucker? I forgot what the animal was.”
“Not funny.” Lydia shook her head and tried to eat a bit more.
“But it was funny, gloriously so.”
She heard a loud gasp, and a curse. Lydia knew that Claire had noticed them. Vlad put on that sadistic
grin of his, that grin that always looked cruel. He was wanting a bit of sport.
“This is a perfect coincidence,” Vlad said. Lydia wasn't sure what he meant. He reached into a pocket of his
jacket and pulled out a ring box.
Her cheeks were suddenly cold.
He spoke again, and quite loudly. “Dearest, you are a perfect, darling love. You are a sliver of a beauty in a
world of horror. I love you so.”
Did he really have to be so damn loud and dramatic? Lydia coolly stared at his necktie, trying not to look
like an uninterested bitch, but also trying not to let Vlad have the satisfaction of seeing any emotion in
her face.
“Lydia,” Vlad continued, “I would be honored if you would be my wife. Would you?”
And he opened the box.
It was a big ring. Most of it was made of large diamonds in a golden frame. The center stone was a huge
clear thing, with something that looked to be inside. It was a beautiful red and gold Western dragon,
rearing back in action. Sevan Bıçakçı is known for such lovely work.
Damn. That thing's nice.
Lydia almost wanted it.
“Vlad, I can't believe this,” she said softly. She pressed her hands to her mouth. “It's too beautiful.”
“I would give this to nobody else.” His smile was still too nasty. Lydia glanced at Claire, and noticed that
the woman's face was an unusual shade of red, and she was tearing up a napkin into pieces. She also
seemed to be grinding her teeth.
A few other people were watching the exchange too. Some looked so happy and hopeful for them. How
embarrassing it would be to refuse Vlad!
“I … Vlad?” She gave him the most loving look she could fake, and said, “Am de gând să mint.” I'm going
to lie. “I'd love to be your wife.”
Then most people clapped their hands. Claire made a strange sound, like she was ill.
Vlad licked his teeth, and for a moment Lydia thought she saw his fangs. He pulled the ring out and
pushed it onto her left ring finger.
“Vinde inelul și să dea bani la o organizație de caritate,” Lydia whispered as she stood up and moved
over to him. Sell the ring and give the money to a charity.
She kissed his mouth. When she pulled her mouth away, Vlad whispered back, “Inelul nu este destul de
frumos. Am înțeles. Un om cu averea mea ar trebui să vă dea mai mult.” The ring is not beautiful
enough. I understand. A man with my wealth should give you more.
Lydia smiled and kissed him again. “Știi de ce am refuzat. Nu mint.” You know why I refused. Don't lie.
There was a light behind his eyes, something that told Lydia that he wasn't ready to give up.
And that was when the waiter arrived with their meals, and Lydia sat back down. The waiter
congratulated them, and Lydia tried not to roll her eyes. She noticed that Claire was so upset that she
stomped off to a restroom; her date looked fairly puzzled.
Lydia poked her food with a fork and wondered if Vlad would ever let her go.
***
Vlad went into the limousine beside her when the meal ended. He told her he wanted to take her to the
mansion tonight. Lydia was starting to figure out what his true meanings behind his statements were.
She thought that, “I want to take you to the mansion,” meant in Vlad language, “There will be a fucking
soon.”
Lydia crossed her ankles and fiddled with the pendant of her necklace.
“Mândră,” Vlad whispered as he hugged Lydia without even touching her thighs first. That was another
little term of endearment.
He kissed her with an ardor Lydia was nearly afraid of. He was moaning, and Lydia was moaning too.
Vlad's hair smelled like earth and flowers, but it felt clean and silky and light. She ran her fingers
through that hair.
Vlad's hand yanked up her dress and sought out her thigh. As he rubbed her thigh, he said in her ear,
“Știi că te iubesc.” You know I love you.
“Vlad, I don't need sweet talk.” She didn't think she could endure it after the show in the restaurant.
So, he bit her ear just enough to make a pinch, and he pushed his fingers down her panties. When his
finger went inside her, she blurted out, “Câcat!” That pretty much meant shit.
And he kissed her again.
***

Chapter 28

Chapter 28
Attempts

Prudence's parents were out having a nice evening out when Prudence was taking a nap on the living
room couch in her home.

It was pretty dark, except for the moonlight shining behind the windows.
Silently a figure crept upwards from behind the couch, as if aided by a quiet elevator. It reached over
the back of the couch and touched Prudence's cute little nose with a barrel of a gun.
And then more figures appeared to grab the gun holder. The gun was accidentally shot; the bullet hit a
wall. Prudence shot up, gasped, and screamed. There was a struggle. People were fighting and grunting
and cursing in the dark. Someone put their hand on her mouth, and dragged her from the couch.
***
Warm and naked, her hair still in a bun, her jewelry still in her ears and on her neck, Lydia Deetz was
pressed against a wall in a hallway, her legs pointed up. Vlad held her and pushed into her; he was
certainly a strong man. Lydia could feel hints of that strength in every thrust of his manhood. She
wasn't looking at him. Her head was turned to one side, eyes shut. Every little sound that came from her
throat was strained and most of them were high pitched, like a distressed little puppy.
And he wouldn't stop with the sweet talk.
“Dulceață . . dulceața perfectă.” Sweetness … perfect sweetness. “Eu vă va ține.” I will keep you.
Lydia was curling her toes, starting to feel a cramp in her foot, but she didn't care much.
“Destul de puțin brioșă.” Pretty little muffin.
“Stop it!” she finally said once she couldn't handle the affectionate words anymore.
“I refuse,” he growled, as he started pushing into her harder, faster. Lydia was starting to feel
uncomfortable against the wall, but she ignored that.
“Te iubesc.” I love you.
“Vlad!”
Lydia tried not to scratch at the walls, but her fingers were itching to scratch something.
And then her mind and body seemed to explode.
***
Sometime later that night, Lydia was lounging on a sofa in a small library still wearing her jewelry and
nothing else. Also nude, Vlad was walking around the room picking out books from shelves and stacking
them on his arm.
“You answer to Brunhilde, right?” Lydia asked him.
“Yes, and so do all the vampires,” Vlad told her as he changed his mind and put a book back in its place.
She tugged on her lopsided hair. “Who does Brunhilde answer to?”
He paused. “Nobody.”
“Vlad, everyone has a boss.”
He sat down in an armchair and placed his stack of books on a table. He didn't seem concerned at all. “If
she answers to someone, it must be someone we cannot reach.” He gave her a little smirk, his eyes
sparkling in the lamp light. “Her will is always done. Interfering is suicide, painful suicide.”
No wonder Beetlejuice never wants to mess with Brunhilde, no matter what Lydia told him. “Then,” she
said, shifting her weight on the cushions, “what do you do when Brunhilde hurts people?”
“Accept it,” answered Vlad.
***
Prudence's parents were extremely upset. Prudence went missing. Lydia believed that she knew why.
There was a handwritten note left behind, in Prudence's handwriting, claiming that she had to leave for a
while. Lydia imagined Prudence was forced to write the letter.
She called Vlad Sunday evening to talk about it. The conversation was this:
“Brunhilde got her?”
“Likely,” Vlad said. “Have you heard from my son?”
“No. Do you think he kidnapped her instead?”
“Lydia, Mihai is not an idiot. Brunhilde could find them anywhere on this planet, and she would be livid.”
***
Another Saturday came. There hadn't been anything of any major interest during the week. Vlad still
took Lydia out on some nights. Bertha, who was also very worried, spent time with Lydia on a Monday, on
a shopping trip. Beetlejuice was very aware of everything Lydia told him, but he wasn't going to do shit
about it.
“You don't fuck with Brunhilde,” he had told her sternly. “She has the right to take anyone she wants as a
vampire. Be happy, she's giving you a choice.”
It seemed that there was no authority Lydia could trust to help her friend.
The annoying part of the week wasn't really a part as it was a fact. The Passerini family had been
showing a lack of activity concerning the Deetz family. Lydia was wondering if they were really scared
off.
During lunchtime, Vlad sent her a text. “O altă audiere este programată. Asistența va veni. Fii gata.”
Another hearing is scheduled. Assistance will come. Be ready.
A few minutes later those same well dressed assistants came into the house. They didn't have many
things for her, except for a few extra pieces of jewelry that Vlad had sent as presents. Lydia had all her
costumes in her room in boxes. There wasn't much room in the closet anymore.
She didn't want to get all dressed up. So, she just put on an old lolita dress she made once. It was a
combination of Hime/Princess Lolita and Gothic Lolita. She did put on some real jewels, instead of
anything plastic. She even put on a small gold tiara. The only thing the assistants really helped her with
was curling her loose hair and putting on her makeup.
The limousine arrived fifteen minutes after the sun set. Lydia went inside and saw an ancient looking
Vlad. “You look like a wizard again,” she told him, smiling. He smiled back.
She looked about, her smile fading away. “Mihai's not here.”
“I noticed,” Vlad said with that deep voice of his. There wasn't any emotion in that statement.
Lydia crossed her arms. “Iad! Unde este el?!” Hell! Where is he?!
Vlad shrugged. He looked very dapper again, wearing a different set of colorful robes. There was a small
golden pin in his long white braid, which rested over his shoulder and down his torso.
“De ce nu-ți faci griji?” Lydia asked him. Why do not you worry?
“Sunt îngrijorat. De ce nu te-ai îmbrăcat mai elaborat?” I am worried. Why aren't you dressed more
elaborately?
Lydia rolled her eyes. “Can you promise me that nobody's gonna get eaten?”

With a nod, Vlad said, “I can promise that you will not be harmed.”

“Fucking hell.” She crossed her legs, her petticoat making a typical frou frou sound. “The sad part is, I
think I'm getting used to being around violence.”
***
The hearing was in the same warehouse. It had been cleaned up surprisingly well. The food was still
decent. The decor was still shit.
Lydia sat down with Vlad, and was still aware that nobody else would talk to her. She whispered to Vlad,
“Okay, now I think nobody likes me.”
“They do not want to accidentally give you secrets you may not have yet,” he muttered to her.
Lydia rubbed her temple with her fingertips.
After everyone had enough time to take some food and drink, Brunhilde walked up the pyramid of crates.
She was dressed like an unusually sparkly pirate, with a large feathered hat. Once she had everyone's
attention, she announced, “One of my babies has admitted to attempting to shoot an innocent little mortal
in her face, the same girl I plan on taking.”
Lydia's jaw dropped. Someone tried to murder Prudence?!
Brunhilde went on, not noticing Lydia's face. “He's much less of a hassle than the last piece of shit. So, he
may walk into the room.” She snapped her fingers. “Bring him in!”
Someone opened the back door.
Escorted by two men, his hands chained behind his back, a gray and wrinkled Mihai, wearing a simple long
sleeved shirt and jeans, walked to the crates.
His head was down, and his white hair was loose and messy.
***

Chapter 29

Chapter 29
Courage

Author's Note: There might be historical inaccuracies in this chapter, and I apologize.
 Dear reader, can you imagine the horror and betrayal that burst into Lydia's heart at that
moment?

She started shaking and stuttering out words that made no sense. She wanted to scream out at
him.

Vlad's slender old fingers gripped her hand, and she looked up at Vlad. His mouth was tight. His
eyes were still. Lydia leaned into him.

“Dear little Mihnea cel Rău,” Brunhilde said as she looked down at Mihai, “Defend yourself.”

That name . . Lydia thought it sounded familiar, but she was too upset to care.

Mihai looked so thin right then, and so delicate.

He looked up at the queen. “Chains dipped in your blood,” he said with a sad and resigned tone,
“one of the few things we cannot break. It seems that our servitude is also one of those things.”

The audience was silent, attentive, yearning for more of his words.

“We benefit in many ways,” continued Mihai. His fingers flexed behind him. “You see to it that we
have identities no matter what country we live in. You give us excellent advice on how to invest our
wealth. You protect us when we are in danger. Yet, there is a cost.”

Brunhilde put a hand on her hip, drumming her fingers. “Get on with it,” she commanded.

“I did not choose this life,” Mihai said. His voice had a bit more strain in it. “I did not choose to
have you assault me, sink your fangs into my throat, smother me with your blood!”

Lydia couldn't stop herself from softly saying, “Wow.”

“I did not choose this life, secretly watching my so-called widow die, watching my sons die,
killing under your command, stealing children away from their homes simply because you tell me to.”
 Damn … Lydia decided that she really really really didn't want to be a vampire.

“I wanted to shoot Prudence because I wanted to save her from this fate I have, this fate that
more than half of us were forced to take.”

Silence.

Brunhilde straightened her body and looked out to the audience with a blank face. “The girl was
unharmed. The girl was not shot. She is hidden away for now … safe. Now … Babies … tell me,
what should be done with him?”

More silence.

Lydia stood up, hoping to say something. Brunhilde snapped at her, “You're not my baby. Sit down.”
So, she sat back down. Lydia expected Vlad to say something, but he didn't.

And then, a middle aged looking female vampire, dressed in a Ghagra Choli, stood up. She asked,
“Is the girl upset with him?”

Brunhilde told the woman, “Prudence doesn't know he was the one who tried to shoot her. It was
night, and she was taken away.”

The middle aged vampire said, “Then, Mihai should tell her what he did, and why he did it. That
should be his punishment.”

Mihai fell to his knees and then let his face hit the floor.

Vlad whispered something to her. Lydia had been so enthralled with the hearing that she was
caught by surprise. She jumped a little in her seat and gasped.

“Nu există nici o schimbare. Ea este în continuare susținut.” There is no change. She is still
claimed.
 Mihai had stood up to the one person he seemed to be afraid of, trying to save someone he cared
for. That failed, and so he tried to murder that someone he cared for, to save her from a miserable fate.
That failed too.

And now he had to tell her that he nearly shot her in the head.

Lydia thought she'd rather see more violence than be in Mihai's head.

The two men that had escorted Mihai picked him up off of the floor and dragged him out of the
building. He looked like an old patient in a retirement home who had given up on life.

Lydia put her face into Vlad's chest and sobbed. It didn't matter that Vlad's hands were thin and
wrinkled and a bit hairy. They still felt nice when they rubbed her back.

“You are all dismissed,” Brunhilde told them as she walked off.

***

Vlad seemed desperate to make things more cheerful. He took Lydia to the mansion after the
hearing was over. He offered her sweets. He showed her fashion catalogs and promised to buy her
anything she circled. She didn't circle anything. Vlad tried finding the most adorable and perky music on
the Internet he could find. So, he played some cute Japanese pop on his computer.

Lydia simply sighed, looked into the old man's eyes, and bit her lower lip, trembling.

The old man turned off the music and went to a luxury jewelry website. His fingers were frantic
while his face was stern. He pointed at some Chopard earrings, but Lydia shrugged. He showed her a Gucci
ring, but Lydia wasn't interested. He even tried showing her Hello Kitty jewelry, which made Lydia raise
an eyebrow, and smirk a little, but she merely patted Vlad's shoulder and told him, “I don't think this is
working.”

Almost as if his pride had been injured, Vlad rolled his gray eyes, flipped his braided hair, and
went to a website that sold gothic shoes.

“Those are lovely, Vlad, but I'll only feel better for a little bit, and then I'll get depressed again.”
She pulled on his braid just hard enough to get his attention. “Why don't you tell me a story. You're old,
and old people have great stories.”
 Vlad took her to the kitchen, made some hot chocolate for them both, and sat down with her.

“If you want a story, I will tell you one.”

Lydia almost smiled at him.

“Pe vremuri,” Vlad began, (that phrase meant in the days of old), “Fiul meu a fost un copil
adorabil.” My son was an adorable child. “Într-o zi cu zăpadă, fiul meu a aruncat o dată un bulgăre de
zăpadă, la fața perfectă mamei sale.” On a snowy day, my son once threw a snowball at his mother's
perfect face.

“Era o femeie tânără și blând. Ea a râs și a spus fiului nostru că pentru că fața lui era
chipul ei, atunci ea ar trebui să pună zăpadă pe ea prea.” She was a young and gentle woman. She
laughed and told our son that because his face was her face then she should put snow on it too.

Lydia understood what that meant. That meant that Mihai had a face just like his mother's.

“Deci, mama sa a luat un pumn de zăpadă. Foarte ușor, ea a lovit nasul cu zăpadă.” So, his
mother took a handful of snow. Very gently, she tapped his nose with the snow. “Fiul meu a zâmbit, și a
decis să împingă fața în zăpadă în mâna mamei sale.” My son smiled, and he decided to push his face
into the snow in his mother's hand.

Nodding, Lydia said, “Well that's just cute.” She took a quick sip of her hot chocolate. “Was Mihai's
mother really nice?”

“Ea merita sa aiba fiecare arc imperiul ei.,” Vlad told her as he stared out at nothing in
particular. She deserved to have every empire bow to her.

How sweet! Lydia tilted her head. “Did you marry her?”

“Yes.”
 “Mihai wasn't a bastard, nice.” Lydia stroked the rim of her cup with a fingertip. “Well …
nowadays we wouldn't care, but back then people did.”

Vlad lowered his head slightly. “I had mistresses.”

Lydia shrugged. “You're a man. It was the 15th century. I assume you had a decent amount of
wealth?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have an arranged marriage?”

Vlad slid his cup aside with the side of his hand. “My parents were dead. Nobody arranged my
marriages for me.” He seemed a little sadder as he spoke. “I married my first wife because I thought she
was beautiful, and she was humble and kind. She died. I married my second wife for political reasons.”

Whoever he had been in his past, he was someone involved with politics. Lydia thought that
sounded like him. Her grip tightened about her cup. “Hey, do you have any mistresses now?”

“You.”

Very softly, she laughed at that. “Well, are you legally married to anyone right now?”

“Not yet.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

***

Beetlejuice was munching on bugs that night, playing Soltaire in his kitchen, when he heard
someone enter his home without his permission.

“Hi, B.”
 Brunhilde walked in with a proud gait, as if she owned the place. She stood a few feet away from
Beetlejuice and said, “Yo!”

Not changing his bored expression, he said, “Bitch, don't you know how to knock?”

“Yeah, I do.” She looked at his cards. “You're losing.”

“I know. Whaddya want?”

“Has Lydia Deetz been giving you updates on me?”

“Duh. Yeah.”

A corner of her lips quirked. “She's accepted that you won't do anything?”

“She's not getting hurt, so it's not my place.” He tore one card in half and tossed it over his
shoulder. Then he tore another, and then another. “It spoke to me, by the way.”

Brunhilde's jaw seemed to loosen a bit, and her sapphire colored eyes widened. “You know for
sure?”

“You know for sure when It speaks to you.”

“What did It say?”

Beetlejuice tore up another card. “Nothing I need to repeat. I think It was just trying to make
me feel better.”

“Huh … well … okay.” She clapped her hands together and laced the fingers. “I know better
than to question It.”

***
 Prudence was locked away in a bedroom. She didn't know what the building looked like. All she
knew was wherever she was had a beautiful view of forests from the single locked window that was over
a desk. There wasn't a computer on the desk, just books and magazines for her to look at. The bed was big
enough, very comfortable, and had silk sheets. A bathroom was connected to the room. It was a large
bathroom that had many luxurious items.

Someone always came to ask her what she wanted to eat, three times a day. No matter what
Prudence said, they'd never say anything, except to ask her what she wanted to eat. And so, Prudence
would give up and tell them something she wanted to eat, and eventually they would return with a
perfect platter of food. Someone else also always came once a day to check out a small refrigerator in a
corner of the bedroom. The refrigerator contained more food, and that someone else would always refill
the fridge, and empty the trash can near the fridge.

That someone wouldn't answer Prudence's questions either.

Nobody would tell her what the fuck was going on.

In the closet, there were a few clothes, but mostly she wore a soft white bathrobe and slippers.
Late one night, she was wearing the bathrobe, reading a magazine and adjusting her glasses, when someone
was let into the room.

And it was Mihai.

Mihai's face was partly hidden by his long dark hair. He was wearing a simple white men's blouse
and tight jeans with gothic black buckle boots. He closed the door behind him. A clicking sound was heard,
and Prudence knew that someone on the other side locked the door.

Prudence shot up from her seat at the desk, hoping to go to him, but Mihai didn't open his arms.
He just flipped a switch to let in more light from the ceiling. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed and
lowered his head.

Prudence sat down beside him and hugged him. She asked him typical questions. “What's going on?
Why was I kidnapped? How are my parents? How did you find me?”

Mihai didn't raise his head, but he took her little hand in his and said quietly, “I don't want to
waste time. So, let me speak.”

She didn't understand his tone, but she complied and hushed.
 “This situation you are in, it's complicated.” He squeezed her hand. “Sometimes, women and
children are kidnapped to be sex slaves, even in America.”

Prudence made a squeaky nervous sound. He squeezed her hand again.

“Sweetheart … you haven't been kidnapped for that. You've been kidnapped for something else.”
Prudence tried to move his hair out of his eyes, but he pulled his head away. He didn't seem to want her
to touch him. “It happened to me a long time ago. I had a wife, and two sons, and I was taken away.”

“But you're so young. I don't get it.”

He shook his head. “Prudence, I'm not young, not compared to you, not compared to your mother,
your grandmother, your great grandmother.”

Her eyebrow quirked. “Mihai, are you high?”

“Oh no.” He squeezed her hand even tighter. “I'm very old.”

After he said that, something happened that Prudence couldn't believe. His skin faded from a
healthy peachy pale tone to something gray. Spots formed on his hands. His flesh felt dryer in her hand.
His body lost a little fat, and his face loosened and became gaunt. His hair faded from rich black to snowy
white, all at once.

Prudence recoiled and ran to the other side of the room.

Mihai's voice sounded amazingly dark and rough. “Prudence … I tried to kill you.” He put his
pale thin fingers to his face and bent over even more. “I tried to kill you! I put a gun to your innocent
little rose of a face!”

This wasn't happening … this wasn't happening. Prudence pushed her back to a wall. Her eyes
felt like they would pop out of her head.

“I wanted to save you, so you wouldn't live like I live,” he said as he started to sob. “I'm supposed
to be dead, Prudence! I'm supposed to be dead! History says I'm dead!”
 “Get the fuck out!” Prudence threw a book at him. She missed.

Mihai stood up, but his head was still down. “You … futu-i.” That word meant fuck. “Prudence
… vampires are real.”

“Huh?”

“Prudence, vampires are real.” He was speaking quickly, like verbally ripping off a band-aid. “I'm a
vampire. The Queen of Vampires has chosen you. You're going to be forced to be a vampire.”

Awkward silence …

She gawked at him.

She just saw him change from young to old, and she still couldn't believe him.

He didn't any anything more. He just went to the door and knocked on it. Someone let him out,
and the door was shut and locked again.

Prudence slid down to her knees and wept. She took off her glasses and looked at them like they
could maybe tell her something.

***

Chapter 30

Chapter 30
Wait

Author's Note: A controversial word will be used, but I will censor it.
“Prudence dropped all of her classes,” a young looking Vlad told her a few days later as they had a
private dinner together at the mansion.

Lydia crossed her legs. “Mihai told you?”

He nodded. “Obviously, she did not want to.”
“Obviously.” Lydia started sawing at her steak with a bit more vigor than required.
“They are preparing her, mentally. They are telling her exactly what her life will be like.” Vlad noticed
Lydia's rough handling of the steak and sighed. “Mihai told me that she was allowed to contact her
parents. She told them she was going to live with him, and they were going on vacation.”
Lydia poured too much steak sauce on her steak, ground her teeth a bit to stop herself from cursing, and
then put the bottle back on the table. “Well … is she going to live with him?”
“Perhaps.” He took a sip of his beverage. “She will be allowed to take classes again.”
“Why did she have to drop out?”
Vlad stared at her with a very somber expression. “Lydia, becoming a vampire is a long, painful, miserable
process. After one is finished, one still must become accustomed to not only the physical change, but the
new rules one must live by.”
“Don't piss off Brunhilde?”
Vlad nodded. “The most important rule.”
Lydia put her fingertips to her cheek, staring down at her damaged steak. She thought she was hearing
about a possible future for herself, a future she didn't think she wanted. “I would hate to live under that
woman's thumb.”
“She is not a tyrant,” Vlad told her with words that sounded a little bit … slow … like he wanted to
speak carefully.
“Maybe she just treats you better than everyone else.”
Vlad rolled his eyes. “A lovely, intelligent theory, but it fails.” He offered her a glass of red wine, even
though she was legally too young to drink alcohol. Lydia took only a sip and left it at that. She thought a
little bit of red wine would be healthy for her. “Lydia?”
She looked at his face. “Hm?”
“Does the Peaceful Pines Country Club allow foreign members?”
“Vlad, why do you want to join a country club?” She had the exasperated yet tired tone of a stressed
mother.
“The Brewsters are members there.”
She slammed her fork down onto the table. “Can you just forget about Claire?! I know you hate her, but
… fucking hell man!”
Vlad put on that wicked grin that he seemed to know Lydia hated. “Easy target. Cannot resist the
pleasure.”
***
It was dark, very dark. Brunhilde was sitting alone in a rocking chair in a plain living room in a building
in a secret location. Mihai sat across from her in an armchair.
He seemed stiff. Brunhilde was rocking her chair rather happily, like a child. The chair made typical
creaking sounds, the loudest thing in the room.
A woman quietly walked into the room. “She's ready,” said the woman.
Brunhilde nodded and waved her away. Then she put her hands on the arms of the rocking chair. “Last
chance, Mihai. Do you want to do it?”
“I'd rather sink my teeth into my dick than into her throat.”
Brunhilde chuckled at that. “I like you, Mihnea.” Then she got up. The chair behind her kept rocking for a
bit. “I'll return when we're done. You may comfort her then.”
She left the room.
She went up some stairs, and down a hallway to the room Prudence was in. She used a key to unlock the
door and then sauntered inside.
Prudence was keeping herself occupied with a book at the desk. She heard Brunhilde close the door, and
her head shot up. She got out of her chair and started wringing her hands, her face reddening. Tears were
starting to leak out. She had been told what was in store for her.
A second passed and Brunhilde's hand gripped Prudence's upper arm. Prudence was startled by her speed,
and tripped backwards. Brunhilde pulled the little woman back to her, towering over her.
She smiled down at Prudence, her teeth lengthening, her canine teeth in particular grew and sharpened.
Redness bled into her irises until there was no more blue. Her mouth stretched unnaturally.
Prudence screamed and tried to shove her off, but she was not strong enough. She tried kicking; no good.
Brunhilde was firm. Her head moved in to Prudence's throat.
Her teeth barely touched Prudence's flesh when she heard a soft but raspy and tired voice.
“Listen.”
Brunhilde halted.
She lightly shoved Prudence aside and stared out at nothing. Prudence cowered into a corner of the
room.
Brunhilde's left eye twitched.
“Not now,” said the voice only Brunhilde could hear. She saw a swirling and thick mist outside the
window.
And then the mist faded away.
Brunhilde shook her body like a wet dog. She cracked her knuckles, and turned to Prudence with a mildly
irritated version of her scary fanged face. “Lucky you,” she said, “it's not your time yet, but you know
what will happen if you start talk-talk-talking, right?”
Knowing that blabbing to the world about vampires wasn't wise, Prudence nodded her head. Brunhilde
opened the door. “Come with me. Your Mihai is waiting downstairs.”
Still terrified, especially since Brunhilde looked like she wanted to bite her head off, Prudence did not
hesitate. She followed the woman out the door.
Mihai saw them enter the room. He turned on a lamp so Prudence could see better. The shock on his face
was only mildly amusing to Brunhilde. “Why didn't you do it?” he asked.
“Complicated reasons,” Brunhilde said with a matter-of-fact tone. “You're still going to take care of her.
I'll take her eventually, but right now, she's kind of in limbo.”
Mihai went to Prudence and hugged her close, pressing her cheek into his chest. He looked up at
Brunhilde. “I don't understand. What makes you think I won't try to shoot her again?”
“If you do, I'll kill you slowly, and then force two people to be vampires, which would only make things
worse in your opinion.”
His jaw ticked. “True.”
***
Mihai was driving a car, with Prudence in the passenger seat, when she finally spoke to him. “I wish you
did shoot me.”
“I'm sorry, Prudence.”
“That woman scares me.” She sounded so young, too young.
Mihai sighed. “I swear by my soul, Prudence, the one thing Brunhilde cannot claim as hers, that I will
support you.”
“How old are you?” She looked at him with very frightened eyes.
“I forgot, exactly. Five hundred something.
“Your dad's a vampire too?”
“Yes, and he's in love with Lydia, so Brunhilde considers her to be an option.”
There was a pause.
Then Prudence said, “I do not approve of anything here.”
“Welcome to my world.”
***
Two days later, when Lydia was trying to sleep, she got a text message from Vlad.
“Prudence has moved into the mansion.”
She texted back, “She's changed already?”
“No. I don't know why. She's was not bitten. Brunhilde will not explain.”
Weird.
***
Mihai decided to have a private but formal dinner, just him, Prudence, Vlad, and Lydia, like a double date,
sort of.
So, he invited Lydia to a little dinner at the mansion. He asked her to dress formally, but not too
formally, because he wanted Prudence to feel like the best dressed one.
Lydia decided to wear a fitted knee-length gray dress and a thin gold braid of a necklace. She put on
little gold hoop earrings and delicate black stilettos. She combed her hair and let it stay loose. She wore
red lipstick, but not much else.
When she was at the mansion, in smaller dining room, she met a young looking Vlad, who was wearing a
classic suit. An also young looking Mihai was there, and he shook her hand, giving her a very reassuring
smile. He was wearing a rather feminine top with trumpet sleeves and lace details, but otherwise dressed
like a man.
And there was Prudence, and she was fabulous.
Prudence wasn't dressed in lolita fashion, which was a shame, since she liked that. Still, she was lovely.
Her bright pink strapless dress was fitted, with low cleavage, and a flared skirt. She was wearing a
necklace Mihai must have purchased for her. It was large and elaborate, made with white and pink
diamonds, reminded Lydia of royalty. Prudence had matching earrings, thick bracelets, and rings that
really made her look rich. Her pretty red hair was curled.
Despite the glamorous beauty she held, Prudence was a miserable, shaking thing. Lydia went to hug her.
Prudence squeezed her tightly, sniffing a little.
“It'll be alright,” she whispered to Prudence. “Let's just have a nice dinner.”
So, they tried to have a nice dinner. The food was perfect. Lydia couldn't complain about anything, but
Prudence barely ate at all. Lydia had the desire to shove food down Prudence's throat, but of course she
didn't dare to suggest that.
Prudence looked like she needed a good yummy meal to cheer her up, and she didn't want to eat.
Lydia was truly pleased to hear Vlad fawn over Prudence along with Mihai. They both flattered her and
made certain that she had every damn thing available to her. Mihai kept touching her hand and planting
kisses on her cheek.
Eventually, Prudence just gave up trying to sit straight. Her face fell into her food, and she wailed. Mihai
helped her out of her place and walked her to a bathroom to clean her up. She was crying the whole way
there.
Vlad took a casual sip from his glass. “I wish Brunhilde had bitten her. The torment would have been
quite long, but this is worse.”
“And she still won't say why?” Lydia said.
“She said this is too complicated to explain.”
A few minutes later, Mihai walked a very red-faced and quiet Prudence back to the table. He offered her
some wine, which made Prudence raise an eyebrow. Still, she gulped down a glass and asked for another.
It seemed that Prudence was more tempted by illegal consumption of alcohol than Lydia was. When she
gulped down the second glass and asked for a third, Mihai told her that probably wouldn't be wise.
“If your Prudence becomes a lush,” Vlad told Mihai, “it will be your fault, and Brunhilde will beat you.”
Mihai snarled at him, his eyes flaring. Vlad took the hint and changed the subject. “Have you considered
joining the Peaceful Pines Country Club?”
“Why would I join a country club?” Mihai asked as he poured a glass of fruit juice for Prudence.
Lydia gave Prudence a mildly apologetic smile. “Vlad has decided he hates Claire, and he wants to find
new ways to fuck with her.”
“Must you be so vulgar?” teased Vlad, winking. “Yes, Mihai, Claire Brewster is a member of the club.”
Prudence's eyes blinked and her lips parted a little. “Do you two enjoy riling people up?”
“Only the people we don't like,” Mihai told her.
Prudence hesitated, and then shook her head. “You must be pretty miserable to act like bitchy girls.”
Mihai nuzzled her ear and told her she's pretty, as if that solved all the problems in the world.
Once dinner was over, Mihai took Prudence to her new room in the mansion. Lydia sat with Vlad in the
kitchen. She sipped at a glass of milk with a long straw. She had slices of fruit in a small bowl, ready to be
chomped.
“What are we supposed to do now?” she asked Vlad.
“Wait,” Vlad replied. “We wait until something happens.”
***
While Lydia sipped at milk with Vlad by her side, Claire Brewster was in her bedroom, at her laptop.
She saw a picture of a Muslim woman. She seemed to be White, and she had intense, sparkly blue eyes.
There were many positive comments concerning her beauty. There were also comments complimenting
her pretty hijab.
Claire commented, “Dumbass Sand-Ni—er thinks she's pretty!”
She received a lot of hate a few minutes later, but she didn't care. That dumb bitch shouldn't feel pretty.
If she wanted to feel pretty, she shouldn't wear that stupid thing on her head! Well, that's what Claire
thought, anyway.
***

Chapter 31

Chapter 31
No Good Reason

Author's Note: I have no idea when golf tournaments are normally held. Also, there will be costume porn,
but a reasonable amount. I know there hasn't been some sexiness in a while, sorry. There will be a small
amount of sexiness eventually in this long chapter.
The Peaceful Pines Country Club was going to host a formal dinner party around seven to celebrate
Claire Brewster's victory in the golf tournament, and on a lesser note, to welcome the four new members,
the Dalca family and their lovers.

Lydia Deetz really wondered how long Vlad and Mihai were going to stay in the United States.
She also wondered if it was healthy for her to start enjoying and expecting presents from Vlad. She knew
she didn't really want to keep her relationship with him; this was unfair. She felt like a cold hearted gold
digger.
She hoped Prudence didn't feel the same way. Prudence had a reason to be coddled and spoiled. She had
been kidnapped, told amazing yet horrible things about her future, and nearly had her throat ripped open
by a demon. Mihai had the money, damn it; he was going to make her feel like a fucking empress.
So, Vlad and Mihai both gave their little girlfriends presents just for showing off at the dinner party.
Mihai gave Prudence a lovely brooch that had a little round clock. The hands of the clock had tiny
sparkly stones on the points. The brooch itself was fairly large. It was shaped like an old fashioned key,
only made of gold, with that pretty clock in the bow of the key. The golden key had lovely little
diamonds of varying sizes making it sparkle more. What made the brooch more special was its companion
brooch. Three long, draping strings of white pearls connected the key brooch to a matching gold and
diamond padlock. Each brooch was meant to be pinned to a woman's clothed bosom, with the pearls
hanging across the center.
Mihai told her, “You have a round bosom, Prudence. Don't assume it's ugly. I'd love to see you wear
something that displays your pretty bosom.” Prudence's reaction was to make a nervous laugh and then
hug him.
“Lydia told me we're going to be Stepford Smilers,” she said to him.
“At least you'll live in luxury,” Mihai told her, returning her hug.
Vlad gave Lydia a large statement bib necklace and matching chandelier earrings. At first, Lydia was
concerned, because this necklace was probably more expensive than Prudence's gift. She texted Mihai
about this immediately, right as she stood in front of Vlad. This made Vlad laugh a little. Mihai texted
Lydia back, saying, “She's too busy admiring her breasts to care.”
Lydia shrugged and then told Vlad, “It's a lovely necklace, but I don't usually wear pink like that.” It was
made of black onyx stones and white and pink diamonds, fairly large pink diamonds, held in silver. When
Vlad told her the diamonds were naturally pink, Lydia almost didn't believe him. Naturally pink
diamonds were pretty expensive.
“How much money do you have?”
Vlad put the necklace against her throat to admire the effect. “Not every vampire is very rich, but I
have volunteered my services to Brunhilde numerous times. She tends to give valuable gifts to those who
work the hardest.”
“She gave you this necklace?”
“No, she's given me priceless objects that I sold.”
So, there was another benefit to being a vampire, it seemed, if you worked hard enough. She wondered if
Vlad's work involved killing people.
Smiling, Vlad leaned into her and kissed her ear. “Pink is Claire Brewster's favorite color. Wear it, and
steal her spotlight.”
Lydia didn't want to argue with that.
Both Prudence and Lydia wore dresses that showed off their bosoms, almost to the point of being vulgar.
(long descriptions of sexy evening gowns and accessories ahead)
Prudence put on a new sexy strapless gown, fitted torso with a long flared skirt that began at the knees.
The dress was a paler pink than the dress she had worn to dinner some time ago. The skirt was adorned
with a large gold colored lace applique on one side, and the applique reached up her side to just above her
hip. She wore her pretty key and padlock brooches on her low scoop neckline, which seemed to make her
round breasts more prominent. At her throat was a white pearl and diamond choker, with a golden
pendant in the shape of a flower. Prudence had her pretty red hair swept back, showing off her gold
flower earrings. Mihai had personally painter her lips a light pink, and then he had slipped her white
evening gloves on her arms and put her gold and pearl bracelets on her wrists. He kissed Prudence's
hands, and kissed her forehead. Prudence's eyes bore tears, but Mihai wiped them away. She even had a
French manicure, a manicure Mihai took the time to help her with. That seemed pretty silly, since she
was going to wear gloves anyway.
Lydia had a long black and pink gown with a wide plunging neckline that did not leave any room to
speculate about her average yet young bosom. The sleeves were long, and had little loops around her
middle fingers attached, in a style often called gauntlet. From the neckline, shoulders and back and
abdomen, to sloping back to cover her backside, the black fabric was overlaid in pink lace. Her pretty
gauntlet sleeves were equally covered in the same pink lace design. Her skirt was also flared, like
Prudence's, and the contrast of the black skirt, uncovered by the pink lace, with the rest of the gown, was
lovely. Lydia's long fingernails were painted black, and she slipped on silver diamond rings and bracelets.
She had her hair arranged in a curly bunch near the top of her head, a mass of curled hair falling behind
her. Lydia decided on a more natural look for her face, wearing little if any makeup and clear lip gloss.
(long description is over)
Vlad didn't dress up in a very flashy way. He kept his lovely brown hair loose, and its waves seemed to
bounce sometimes. His black suit seemed normal, but he did have a little pin on his lapel. It was made of
gold and shaped like a running wolf. There was a gem on his tie, but it was small. He didn't wear any rings
except his silver dragon ring.
When Lydia met him in the foyer, she looked him up and down, admiring his broad shoulders and strong
thighs. When he looked her in the eye, she looked away for a moment, and then sat down on a little chair.
“I think you're trying to make me look richer than you.”
Vlad shrugged and walked over to her. Lydia noticed he had a lovely diamond and silver ornamental
comb in his hand. She said, “Oh come on!” However, she did not hinder him when he pushed the long teeth
of the comb into her hair at a whimsical angle.
Mihai came into the foyer with Prudence holding his hand. Lydia looked at Mihai, laughed, and said to
Vlad, “Why don't you dress like that?!”
(elaborate outfit description)
Mihai was pretty much dressed like … a rock star or something, just not very much makeup. He did
have black lips and mild black eyeliner, but that was all the makeup he wore. His long hair was pulled into
a ponytail, but it looked like he had dyed the bottom half of his hair a neon blue. He had a white shirt,
black tie, and an open shiny gold jacket with random asymmetrical belts and buckles. His gold pants were
tight but a little flared at the bottom. He had blue platform boots. He had elaborate blue and black Visual
Kei style fake nails, with some nails connected by long and loose little chains and sometimes a nail bore a
little jewel. He had pretty dangling gold earrings that were probably made for women.
(description over)
Prudence seemed to love Mihai's outfit. She was beaming at him. She was wearing contact lenses instead
of her glasses, and her eyes really shined. “Doesn't he look cool?”
Vlad walked up to his son and reached around him to tug on his long ponytail. “Parul tau este ridicol.”
Your hair is ridiculous.
With a wink Mihai countered, “Parul tau este fabulos.” Your hair is fabulous.
Flipping his hair, Vlad left him alone.
Prudence noticed Lydia was laughing a bit. “What are they saying?”
“I'll tell you in the car,” Lydia said.
***
The Peaceful Pines Country Club's formal party was held in a large and bright room, buzzing and humming
with well dressed people. The group was greeted warmly and taken to a special table for new members.
Since they were the only four new members, they got a smaller table. Prudence and Lydia sat beside each
other, while Vlad sat beside Lydia and Mihai beside Prudence.
“Oh Lydia ...” Prudence said in a gasping voice, “this place is beautiful!” It was lovely, white walls and a
shiny floor, large windows and pretty banners and paintings. Vlad nudged Lydia and pointed at a large
banner that congratulated Claire Brewster for winning the golf tournament. She shrugged, not seeing
why it was so important.
“Miss Brewster cheats, correct?” he whispered to her.
“She cheats at everything, I bet,” Lydia whispered back. The moment she finished saying that, Vlad
surprised her with a warm kiss, his hand slipping onto her thigh. It seemed uncalled for, but she didn't
mind.
A man stood at a podium with a microphone and got everyone's attention. First, he introduced Claire
Brewster, who was standing nearby in a short brink pink dress and delicate heels that had a rose and leaf
pattern on what little fabric they bared. The man at the podium congratulated her and complimented
her. Of course, everyone clapped. Even Lydia and her group clapped.
Claire was given time to stand at the podium and make a speech. Fifteen minutes later, Lydia started to
hate her almost as much as Vlad because that rich bitch wouldn't shut the fuck up. Ten minutes after
that, Lydia turned to Vlad with lazy eyes and a tight mouth, a look which seemed to say, “Okay, I'm not
mad at you for hating this idiot.” Vlad gave her a delighted smile, his eyebrows quirking up twice.
The man who had introduced Claire eventually nudged her arm and took the microphone. With a rather
pissed face slowly growing in her pretty features, Claire left to go sit with her family. Some sweat
appeared on the man's brow, and he wiped it. As he did, he pointed at the new member's table and
introduced them quickly. Most people clapped. Then dinner was served.
People were allowed to walk about and say hello to anyone they wanted to, but mostly people focused on
their plates. A few people approached to shake their hands and welcome the new members, most of them
were a bit old when compared to Lydia and Prudence. Prudence seemed to notice that a lot of people,
especially men, stole quick looks at her breasts. She brightened at that, seemed to love the attention. For
a moment, Lydia wondered if it was classy to enjoy such attention with your lover nearby. Then she
realized Mihai was encouraging it. Sometimes he put an affectionate arm under her breasts in a sort of
hug, which pushed her chest upwards. Sometimes he whispered to Prudence after a someone finished
ogling her chest, laughing with her like they were school girls.
Well, whatever they liked to do, that was their business. Lydia shrugged.
At one point, Mr. and Mrs. Brewster, without Claire, came to greet them. Prudence not so secretly
enjoyed that Mr. Brewster looked at her bosom for a second.
“Oh, what a lovely necklace!” Mrs. Brewster said at one point, looking at Lydia.
Lydia accepted the compliment with a smile, but Vlad apparently thought it would be a good idea to place
the pad of his index finger under the lowest jewel of her necklace and say, “Her parents are quite proud
to have such an intelligent and beautiful child. Certainly, she enhances the beauty of the gems.”
“Stop teasing me,” Lydia said with the gentlest voice she could make, moving his hand away.
Prudence winked at her. “Our parents raised us very well. I don't think anyone can say anything about us
that could embarrass them.”
That was when Mihai's black lips pursed and his eyes seemed to smile. He found something amusing, and he
was trying not to laugh. Lydia thought she knew what was so amusing. She wondered if he would blurt
out, “Donkey-Fucker” on accident.
Mrs. Brewster put on such a fake smile. Her pink lipstick reminded Lydia of children's dolls. Mr. Brewster
ignored his wife's smile and said to Vlad, “You certainly robbed the cradle here, but I imagine her parents
don't mind giving her to someone of such good quality.”
“I chose someone of excellent quality,” Vlad told him, his eyelids tightening in something of a suspicious
expression. “Her tastes are similar to mine. I see nothing horrifying in them.” His graceful fingers rested
upon hers. Lydia felt a warmth gather there. A familiar thrill tingled between her legs; she wasn't sure
why. She felt her blood rush into her cheeks, and she looked down at her plate.
“Do you play any sport?” Mr. Brewster asked him. “If you aren't a tennis sort, then you must let us teach
you.”
Mihai muttered under his breath, “I wonder if he's a donkey sort.” Prudence tapped his arm. Lydia blinked
a few times but otherwise ignored that comment. Vlad grinned … that nasty evil grin that Lydia
feared, and he grinned right at Mr. Brewster.
“I believe I should play golf instead,” he told Mr. Brewster. Lydia didn't know that he ever played golf. He
didn't know that he ever played a sport. Maybe he worked out in a gym, but a competitive sport? Really?
She looked at him with mild surprise widening her eyes only a little. Her fingers held a loaded fork in
midair.
Vlad turned to her and kissed her cheek. “If you like, you may join me.”
“I haven't played golf in a few years,” admitted Lydia.
He patted her hand and kissed her cheek again. Then he looked about the room. “Your daughter seems to
be quite proud of herself. I thought we would starve during her speech.”
Mr. Brewster's eyelid twitched, but he kept his friendly composure. “We're quite proud of our little
princess.”
Vlad nodded. “Ah, I see her. She is there, drinking wine. She is not twenty one yet, I believe?”
“Oh, a little bit here and there is just fine,” Mrs. Brewster said with a wave of her jeweled hand.
“I understand,” said Vlad. Certainly, he had no right to complain of such a thing; he was not exactly a
hypocrite. “Still, she seems to be drinking quite a large amount, and she is very fast about it.”
Immediately Mrs. Brewster stomped off, saying something like, “If that little bitch gets drunk . .”
Mihai snorted into his glass. Right after he did that, Mr. Brewster told him, “You certainly are an
eccentric young man. Are you an artist?”
Giving Prudence an appreciative scan with his eyes, he said, “I certainly found my muse. Should I paint a
nude version of you, lounging on a sofa?” Prudence giggled and shook her head.
“Well,” Mr. Brewster said with an uncertain tone, “my wife probably needs me. Hope to see you again.” He
left them, and once he was out of earshot, Prudence starting giggling louder.
“You two men are just like girls,” she said. “Grown men, acting like bored little girls in a clique!”
“You're never too old to be immature,” Mihai told her, gesturing towards a server. He asked the server to
get more soda for Prudence.
After another sip of her own drink, Lydia realized she needed to go to the bathroom, so she asked a
server where the nearest restroom was. Then she hurried over to the place. It was a long public
restroom, with several stalls. Unlike a normal public restroom, the stalls had beautiful wooden doors
that went down to the floor, not metal doors that were short and exposed the user's legs. The walls and
ceilings were sparkly, like the inside of a geode. The light fixtures near the many mirrors were old
fashioned looking, and the sinks were pretty white bowls in lovely granite counter-tops. Despite her need
to go into a stall, Lydia took a moment to admire the room. She didn't hear any activity, and so she
assumed she was alone.
Lydia opened one of the doors and went inside. It was incredibly spacious, big enough for three people to
hang out in, and it smelled very sweet. She hurried with her tinkling. When the toilet flushed, she
noticed it flushed very very quickly.
She got out to wash her hands. There were several soaps and lotions available. When she dried her hands
she noticed someone in the corner of her eye.
She tossed her paper towel into a trash can with unneeded force. “This is the ladies room, Vlad!”
Vlad didn't care at all, it seemed. His thick arms were folded, legs straight and feet firm on the shiny
floor. His head was only slightly forward. His eyes were halfway closed, and a corner of his lip was
turned upward.
Lydia knew she was in trouble. She knew she couldn't flee from him without being nabbed before she could
touch the exit. Vlad stepped towards her and took her wrist. He led her to a stall and opened the door for
her. She didn't want to go inside, so he gave her backside a nudge with his knee. Lydia yelped and tripped
forwards, but he stopped her from falling on the toilet. She heard him lock the stall door, and she hoped
that if someone caught them, he'd have a way to save them from embarrassment. Lydia certainly didn't
have a plan. He took her dainty purse and hung it on a hook, while she just stood there, turned away from
him, starting to feel dirty.
When his hands pressed onto her breasts, Lydia whimpered. Vlad put one of his hands against her mouth
and made a little Ssshhh sound into her ear. The side of her head and her throat felt like it was buzzing.
He pulled at the zipper in the back of her dress, and slid it down very gradually, so it wouldn't make much
noise. Lydia tried to shake her head, to make sure he knew she was disinclined.
Vlad pulled her dress down, freeing her mouth for a moment. Soon she had bunched up fabric at her navel
and her arms felt a little trapped from the constriction of the bunched sleeves.
She gritted her teeth when he pinched her nipples. She pressed her thighs together, shaking. Not even
caring about her earring, bit her earlobe, hard, and she inhaled, trying not to yell at him. She wondered if
she was bleeding. He starting sucking on her bitten ear and grinding his hips into her backside, breathing
roughly and making her stinging ear tingle. Lydia was afraid she'd fall.
Lydia was then pushed against a wall and the bottom of her dress was shoved upwards. The only sign of
reluctance she made when he pushed a finger inside her vagina was a clawed hand scratching at the wall.
His teeth went to the skin just below her her bitten ear. She squeaked out, “Dobitoc.” That word meant
brute, animal, or even a stupid person. Even as her insides lubricated for him, she was angry and a little
afraid.
Vlad spread her legs and bent her over a little. His hand went to her mouth again, and he shoved his
manhood inside of her. Instincts made her bite into his fingers. It felt very deep. She needed some sort of
outlet to express her feelings.
He pushed in and out, in and out, huffing his breath into her hair. Lydia's necklace was swinging with her
breasts. He kept going back and forth to her ear, renewing the pain there. Her insides were pressing
against his penis, resisting, but still allowing him at all at once. Finally she thought she couldn't handle
the feelings, and she muffled her own screams by biting into his fingers really really hard. She tasted
blood.
It felt like he was taking a long time to finish, and Lydia suddenly understood something as he was
pumping into her … she drank a little of his blood … and he probably drank a little bit of hers too.
Her throat constricted, and she coughed and trembled. Vlad pushed his lips into her shoulder and his
rhythm changed into something random, sometimes quick and sometimes leisurely. Then he came inside of
her, pressing his lips harder into her flesh to keep himself from making a sound.
Lydia didn't let him linger. She straightened up and poked him with her elbow. “Am gustat sângele,” she
spat out at him. I tasted your blood.
He gripped her bare shoulders and whispered into her ear, “Și am gustat ta.” And I tasted yours. He
licked her injured ear lobe. “Vă veți simți foarte sănătos pentru ceva timp. Aceasta este singura
modificare trebuie să vă așteptați.” You will feel very healthy for some time. This is the only change
you should expect. He kissed her cheek, and then he put his bitten fingers against her earlobe. “Sângele
meu va vindeca acest muscatura.” My blood will heal this bite.
Lydia felt like someone had dipped her earlobe in rubbing alcohol. It was odd. She shivered.
Then he licked the blood away. Lydia shivered again.
Without any sort of word, Vlad adjusted her pretty pink and black dress, setting it right. She hoped it
wasn't wrinkled. After he had it zipped back up, he ran his palms down her thighs. He made sure her
jewelry looked normal, and he examined her hair. Vlad even handed her the dainty purse with a loyal
and expectant face, as if he felt like a perfect gentleman.
Lydia couldn't help it. She whacked his shoulder with her purse, her eyes flicking fire out at him. Vlad's
expression didn't change, but he did wink when they both heard someone enter the restroom. Vlad
unlocked the door a crack, and made a gesture with his bitten hand, telling her to go on. Lydia bit her lip
and exited the stall, closing the door behind her. She played along with the “I just used the toilet and
that's all” thing by washing her hands. Lydia's heart felt like it did a backflip when another woman
walked into the restroom and went into the same stall she had just got fucked in.
How strange it was to notice nothing strange happening.
Lydia walked out of the restroom and saw Vlad waiting outside the door.
Fucking vampires …
She was only a little startled, but she was dealing with a vampire, so this was to be expected.
He offered her is arm, and she took it, looking at his hand. He still had bite marks. She wondered if he
wanted admire them. When they sat back down with Mihai and Prudence, she assumed she was right,
because the man kept occasionally glancing at his hand. Prudence noticed, and she asked what had
happened to him in a very polite way. Vlad put on an innocent face, but he didn't answer her question; he
just shrugged. Probably aware of what where the injuries came from, Mihai distracted Prudence with a
joke.
Lydia was surprised to see Claire Brewster walk up to them. Wine must have made her stupid and filled
her with arrogance. The heiress almost tripped over her heels, but she straightened up and smiled that
same fake smile Lydia had seen on Mrs. Brewster. Vlad was smiling … and when Lydia noticed, she
slapped her palm onto her own face, closing her eyes.
“What on earth could you possibly have to say to us?” Mihai said to Prudence with a voice that was
gentle and almost … loving. “I do hope you aren't here to talk about donkeys.”
Claire Brewster opened her mouth and gave a loud and almost insane laugh, and as abruptly as it began, it
stopped. She wasn't happy.
“Mumzy asked me to invite all of you to my birthday party.”
Mihai twirled his spoon like a little baton, smirking. “That video must not be on the Internet, otherwise
your parents would've seen it.” He stopped twirling his spoon and put it on his plate. “Why else would
they still want my father at your house?”
Claire just walked off, not giving an answer.
Slapping Mihai's arm, Prudence said, “You're so rude sometimes!”
***
The group was very shocked to see an unexpected person inside the limousine, waiting on them.
It was Brunhilde, wearing a casual 1920s dress and modern flip flop shoes. She waved to them to enter the
car, and they all complied.
“Hey there, Guys!” she said to them as the limousine drove off.
Nobody greeted her in return, which seemed to suit her just fine, because she didn't react negatively. She
said, “Prudence, Lydia, I think you both need to take some self defense classes.”
Well, that didn't sound like a bad suggestion.
“I'm serious,” Brunhilde said, possibly assuming their lack of reaction was due to disbelief. “I don't care
what fighting style you two learn, but do your best. Eventually I want you two to be ass-kickers. Useless
people annoy me. Also, keep up a good diet, lots of meat. I don't want any vegetarian shit.”
Lydia had to speak up. “A vegetarian diet can be very healthy.”
“Yeah,” said Brunhilde, “But it's easier to eat meat, and I don't want you two popping pills and looking for
all kinds of beans when you could just tear into a cow.”
***

Chapter 32

Chapter 32
Standards

In a suburb, in the dark night, when the only lights came from the street lamps and sometimes
from the windows of houses, Brunhilde walked across people's lawns, silent and undetected. Dogs didn't
even notice and bark at her.

She was wearing simple jeans and a T-shirt, ordinary sneakers that made no sound against the
grass. Her posture was that of a mildly bored person, not too droopy but not too straight, her head
occasionally turning or tilting.
 Brunhilde paused to listen carefully. He heard two adults, a man and a woman, screeching at
each other, and the rather sad sound of a baby shrieking. Curious, she twirled about and skipped over to a
window to peek at the scene.

A thin man was holding a little baby, trying to protect it, while a woman was coming at him
with a metal baseball bat, screaming something about how the “little shit” was worthless and cried too
much.

Fucking idiot …

Brunhilde walked into the dark shadow of a tree, disappearing.

She reappeared right behind the baseball bat wielding woman. Brunhilde snatched the bat out of
the woman's hands, which made the woman stumble in surprise. Then, Brunhilde took a swing and cracked
the woman's skull with a very nonchalant face. The woman's body was flung to a wall, and her head was
clearly broken and bleeding. Some of her brains splattered along with the blood.

As quick as she had entered, she left, taking the bat with her, and the thin man was so stunned
he almost dropped the baby, but didn't. He held the little one even tighter as he ran to find his cell phone
to call the cops.

Unfortunately for him, that “crime” would go unsolved.

A few minutes later, Brunhilde was in a forest, sitting on the large root of a tree. Her thin cell
phone provided a little glow, but otherwise it was dark. Several of her babies had sent her emails and
text messages. It was good to be informed of things.

She decided to send a text to Mihai. She liked to pick on him sometimes. He was one of her
favorites, but in an unofficial sort of way. He was just scared enough of her to do what she wanted, yet he
was just brave enough to stand up to her when protecting someone. What an admirable little guy!

“Hey, Sunt fetele iau aceste clase încă?” Are the girls taking those classes yet?

Her phone buzzed in her hand when she got the reply. “Am angajat un profesor particular.” We
hired a private tutor.

“Cum este progresul lor?” How is their progress?

 Mihai replied in English, “They kick things.”

Brunhilde literally laughed out, and so she texted to him, “LOL literally! Eventually I want them
flipping like gymnasts.”

“Aceasta va necesita diferite de formare,” Mihai texted. That will require different training.

“But think of how entertaining it will be!”

And with that statement made, Brunhilde ended the conversation.

***

The best thing about this whole lifestyle change was the food, the glorious food. Vlad and Mihai
made sure that they ate every few hours. Even when Lydia was at the community college, she snuck
protein bars between classes. During longer break times, she ate full meals, carried in a lunch box and
handcrafted with care. Prudence and Mihai weren't trying to be body builders, but they did try to keep
their bodies strong. They got their own weights and machines to work with in the private gymnasium in
the mansion. There had already been machines and such … and strangely enough, old fashioned weapons
like swords and clubs, but the men decided that the ladies needed their own items.

She didn't like being so busy and tired, though. Prudence once complained that they didn't get to
see Bertha as much. Lydia also missed Beetlejuice, but of course she didn't say so to anyone. Lydia was
also getting mildly pissed off because she was starting to sleep in guest rooms in the mansion instead of
in her home. The reason why it pissed her off was because Vlad kept using it to his advantage. The man
was old, but he had a libido like a younger man.

Lydia asked Vlad about the Passerini Family one day. He said he hadn't heard anything. The
family took a serious blow, a good number of their men killed. It would take a bit more time for them to
recover and come up with anything new, if the mob boss was stupid enough to try to come up with
anything new.

***

Prudence found Mihai drinking a cup of green tea late one night, sitting in the private little
library and skimming a book of famous palaces. He seemed peaceful, his hair combed to one side and his
eyes lazy, barefoot, clean fingernails. He was wearing a long red robe made of lace and silk, open and
revealing his short underwear. It was a lovely pair of underwear, tight and black, with images of dark
roses and grinning skulls.
 She felt that she had to sigh at him.

He didn't look up, but he did say quite casually, “Do you need something, Prudence?”

Timidly, she made her way to a chair beside him. As she sat down, she asked, “Am I your
girlfriend?”

Mihai shrugged. “Yeah.”

Her face and voice perked up. “Really?! So you're my boyfriend?!”

“Certainly.”

She popped out of her seat and hugged him. Mihai dropped his book; it fell to the floor, folding
some pages.

When Prudence kissed him and asked if he wanted to play in his room, he stroked her scalp with
his fingertips and grinned. “Would you like my ass tonight?” he inquired in a voice that was too polite for
the situation. She squealed and hopped up and down like a child offered a trip to an amusement park.

***

Lydia was angry at Vlad. When he was screwing her from behind, he had bit her shoulder so hard
he broke the skin a little bit. What really made her tear up was when she noticed two little dots along
with the thin cuts, dots that proved the man had his fangs out. Lydia put some ointment on her shoulder,
so disgusted with him that she didn't want him to use his neat blood trick to heal her just yet. Then she
put on a white silk robe and stomped out of the room.

She wandered around a bit, and then she stepped on something on the floor in a hallway. She
crouched down to pick it up and examine it under the ceiling light. Fortunately, she had not damaged it.

It was an antique looking earring, made of precious looking gems. Lydia had no idea who it
belonged to. It could be Prudence's earring, could be Mihai's, hell it could be Lydia's! She had a collection
of earrings by now, a good portion of them luxuriously expensive. Sometimes she forgot about certain
pieces.
 That kind of made her feel bad, starving people and whatnot.

Lydia made a mental note to pawn off the stuff she didn't want anymore and donate the money
to charity, even that necklace with the pink diamonds. If it pissed off Vlad, well too damn bad. He could
always stop buying her so much stuff.

Lydia walked down the hallway, planning on finding Mihai and asking him if he knew who owned
the earring. Eventually, after a few more minutes of walking, she was at Mihai's door. She was still a
little irritated, and so she was not patient. She tapped on the door and opened it immediately.

And there Mihai was, bent over his bed, his teeth ripping a pillow and pulling out stuffing,
Prudence smiling behind him. Obviously, both were nude, except for something on Prudence's hips that
Lydia didn't need to guess the use for. Lydia's eyes widened. She blurted out, “Oh shit!” Then she slammed
the door and said, “Never happened!”

Inside Mihai's room, the lovers stared at the door, lips open in surprise. After a moment,
Prudence said, “If this thing was real, I'd lose the boner.”

Mihai rubbed his face into the ruined pillow like a cat nuzzles a loved one. “You didn't lose it, so
keep it up.”

Prudence rubbed her fingertips into his hips, giggling very much like a cute school girl. She
moved her own hips back and forth again. When Mihai groaned, she playfully slapped his hip.

***

Lydia was outside on a patio when she felt it was safe to laugh her ass off. She put the earring on
a table and sat down on a chair. She was still laughing when Vlad crept up behind her and kissed her ear.

She was too busy laughing to be surprised. She turned her head. “I'm still mad at you but … oh
my god!”

“What amused you to this point?” he asked as he put his fingers on her shoulders.

“Nothing important.” Lydia almost choked from the laughter, but she refused to give any
information on the issue.
 ***

Vlad suggested that one day they try the gym in the country club.

“I thought you made us members just to piss Claire off,” Lydia said to him.

“I did.” He seemed to think that settled the matter, because he didn't say anything else.

On a pleasant but cool afternoon, Lydia and Prudence were walking on treadmills in the gym of
the country club. Older women kept walking by and stopping to chat. They told them how they were the
newest thing to talk about in the club. Lydia cringed a little when one woman called them “fresh blood.”

One woman warned Lydia of a rumor going on about her. Apparently, the word was that, as the
woman said, “Your Foreign Darling is going to propose to you!” Lydia didn't approve of the rumor, but she
wanted to keep Vlad happy for now. So, she merely nodded and gave the woman a pleasant smile. “Vlad
was born in the same town my mother was born in, Sighișoara, Transylvania. I'm hoping he'll take me
there often.” He had told her this fact about himself some time ago. However, she didn't really hope he'd
take her there. She had visited the place many times to see her grandparents. She didn't need him for
that.

“Well that sounds delightfully exotic!” said the woman. “I once read that some people believe
Transylvania doesn't exist.”

Prudence chimed in, “Mihai really likes Lydia. He doesn't even care that he's older than her. He
told me that she'd be a lovely stepmother.”

“When did he tell you that?” Lydia asked with a smile.

Prudence's round cheeks reddened and she looked away. “Uhm … we were cuddling.”

“Oh.” Lydia accepted that fact without a second thought.

The woman smiled, told them goodbye, and left them. Prudence giggled. “Lydia, Claire just walked
in.”
 “I don't care,” Lydia said, nudging her hair, which was in a tight bun.

Claire seemed to care. She gave them a very nasty look, her mouth snarling, her brow furrowed,
as she walked off to a nearby machine.

“She's not very happy,” Lydia muttered.

Prudence took a sip from a water bottle. “She's pissed because we're popular among the rich
people. Popularity in school is worthless. Popularity in a country club is worth something interesting.”
Prudence had a nearly mean smile on her face. “She thought she was popular in school, even though most
people hated her. Now, when popularity counts, we've not only beaten her, we beat her to the point where
she is actually aware of it.”

She had a point. Over the past few days, Lydia and her group had received quite a few invitations
to events in the mail, and a few verbal invitations from people in the club.

“But, we didn't beat her.” Lydia said. “Vlad and Mihai beat her for us. I don't get why they care so
much.”

Prudence's voice lowered a bit more and she leaned in to Lydia as much as her running position
would allow. “Mihai says Vlad will put that nasty video of Claire on the Internet if she does anything to
you again. He also said he might do something worse.”

“Oh God.” Lydia made a facepalm. “I think he really wants to do it; he wants an excuse.”

“That is pretty nasty of him,” Prudence agreed. “When do you think he'll stop?”

“I don't know, when he's bored?”

Prudence straightened back up on the treadmill. “Or, maybe when she cracks.”

“I think Vlad wants to see her crack,” Lydia confided with a sigh.

***
Chapter 33

Chapter 33
The Lazy Plan

Author's Note: I will use Chinese in this chapter. While I am studying Chinese, I do not understand it
well. Please bear with me. Also, I will put in actual Chinese words along with Pinyin. If they do not show
up on your computer, I'm sorry.
Now, Lydia really didn't want to go to Claire's birthday party. She was very firm. She didn't like Claire.
She didn't want to go.

So, Vlad gave her a box of Amedei Porcelana chocolate bars and said she would go. Lydia didn't even open
the box. She gave it to Prudence. And still, she insisted, “I'm not going.”
Then, Vlad gave her a box of French style macaron cookies that had a rainbow of bright colors. She gave
the whole thing to Mihai and insisted again, “I'm not going to that party.”
He made a third attempt. He gave Lydia a box of rosewater flavored Turkish delights. Lydia said, “Fucking
tâmpit!” Tâmpit meant asshole or idiot. Then she ate all the candies, which tasted fantastic, and said she'd
go to the party if he'd buy her more rosewater Turkish delights.
***
Mihai and Prudence decided to be bold and wear lolita dresses.
Mihai curled his hair and put on a white and dark green bow headband. He put on a matching blouse with
a wide skirt, dark green ruffles and bow-knots at key points. He had lovely stockings and shiny green
Mary Jane shoes. Prudence thought he looked adorable, but she tried to outdo him by wearing an empire
waist lolita dress with a pink and purple butterfly pattern. Once she added her own accessories, she went
to Mihai and said, “I'm cuter than you!” Mihai agreed and kissed her cheek.
Lydia put on a short red dress with an asymmetrical collar. When she met Mihai and Prudence
downstairs, she stared. “I thought you were a woman,” she said to him.
“Sorry,” he said in his natural manly voice.
Vlad came downstairs, in a casual gray suit, his hair pulled back by a plain elastic band. “I preferred the
rock star outfit,” Vlad said, although he did wink at his son.
It was not a very formal party at the Brewster mansion, but it was nice. Claire's parents, her parents'
friends, family, and Claire's friends were there. The party was held indoors in the evening, where the
lights sparkled. There were several tables; the dinnerware was immaculate and orderly.
Claire's mother was friendly, it seemed. She did mention how pretty Mihai looked, trying not to sound
disapproving, but Lydia saw the disgust behind her voice. Claire Brewster made a point of ignoring the
group, which was fine by Lydia.
Dinner was served, and during that time, Lydia heard Mihai saying several times, “What?”
It turned out, people were staring at him, and some people were muttering insults about him. Not caring
about being polite, Mihai gave some of them the middle finger.
Once dinner was over, someone rolled in a large, tall, high-end birthday cake, with a clearly fondant base
cover. The overall color scheme of the cake reminded Lydia of a plastic wedding cake for a little girl who
wanted to be a princess and a fashion doll all at once, pink, sparkly, hearts, circles. The name Claire was at
the very top in glittery letters.
As soon as everyone finished applauding the cake, Vlad tapped Lydia's fingers and murmured to her, “I-am
spus sa poarte rochia aia.” I told him to wear that dress.
Lydia had no idea what he meant. She quirked her eyebrow. Mihai tapped her shoulder to get her
attention, and then he winked at her.
Assuming they had some sort of display to show to her, Lydia watched Mihai. The lolita wearing man got
out of his seat and walked in the general direction of the nearest bathroom. He walked a little bit close
to a grown man, possibly in his thirties. The grown man said a little bit loudly, “Here comes the faggot!”
Well, Mihai grabbed the man by his shoulder and pulled him up, knocking the man's chair to the floor. At
this point, quite a few people were watching, highly amused.
“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU CALL ME, YOU PIECE OF SHIT?!”
Lydia flinched and put her fingers to her throat. She had never heard Mihai yell so loudly.
“A MAN IN A DRESS MAKES YOU QUESTION YOUR SEXUALITY SO MUCH THAT YOU NEED TO LASH
OUT?!”
Well, the man didn't like being yelled at, so he shoved Mihai, or tried to. As girly as Mihai was, he stood
and resisted eerily well. It was like the man tried to shove a giant block of hard cement. Mihai took the
man's upper arms and shoved him so damn hard he fell right into the well crafted and probably expensive
cake. Frosting, fondant, cake, chocolate, it all crashed and collapsed. Thankfully there were no lit candles
on the cake.
Claire didn't even get to cut it.
Almost everyone gasped, and then there was mostly silence.
Lydia looked at Mihai, then at Vlad, who was smiling. Lydia made a facepalm.
The man who had fallen into the cake got to his feet, brushed off some of the mess, and went after Mihai.
Mihai punched the man in his gut, and the man fell to his knees, gasping and red in the face. That was
when Prudence laughed into her hands. That was also when Claire screamed, grabbed the knife meant for
the cake, and went for Mihai. Fortunately for her, her father and another man took her by the arms to
stop her. A third man wrestled the knife from her hand.
“Can we go now?” Lydia asked. Vlad nodded at her. Prudence moaned about how she wanted to stay and
watch the action, but when Mihai went to her with a gentle smile she complied.
They didn't say goodbye to anyone. They just left. Lydia tried to apologize to Mrs. Brewster, since she
didn't want to speak to Claire, but Vlad yanked on her arm before she could get near the woman.
***
Vlad sent the Brewsters a check to pay for the damaged cake. He made a point of writing the check in
front of Lydia, gloating about how hilarious the whole situation was. Lydia didn't think it was hilarious.
There was no point to the chaos. There was absolutely no point. Vlad and Mihai were being bullies. Lydia
didn't like bullies. She wanted to scold them, but she knew that might cause some more problems.
So, late one night, when she was wearing nothing but a white pearl necklace, Lydia arranged her body on
Vlad's bed in the sweetest, most innocent nude pose she could think of. She knelt on her knees with one of
her lower legs pointed out only a little, her hands against the thigh of the other leg. Well … she
thought it was sweet and innocent. Whether or not it was sweet and innocent was up for debate.
Vlad came into the room then, dimming a lamp light so it was a bit darker in the room. He was wearing a
long and plain black robe. Lydia looked up at him, purposely making her lips tremble; if she could force a
tear, she would have done so.
“I'm scared,” she said quietly.
Immediately he sat down on the bed and pulled her to him. He spoke in a tone that reminded Lydia of a
purring cat. “Cine te-a rănit?” Who hurt you?
Lydia put her arms around him and made a whining sound. “Mi-e frică. Cred că m-ar putea face rău.”
I'm scared. I think she might hurt me.
“Cine?” Who?
“Claire!” She took a lock of his long hair and held it to her cheek, looking up at him with eyes she hoped
looked both affectionate and frightened. She really didn't know what she was doing. She was just
imitating cute girls she had seen in anime, movies, and read about in books. “Ea a fost întotdeauna
dușmănos. Acum, tu si Mihai sunt o agresiune. Sunt îngrijorat de faptul că s-ar putea face ceva
groaznic.” She has always been spiteful. Now, you and Mihai are bullying her. I'm worried that she might
do something terrible.
Vlad pulled his hair from her hand and kissed her nose. Then he rubbed her back. “Ce poate face ea?” What
can she do?
Well, Lydia couldn't think of anything on the spot. She rubbed her cheek onto one of his arms. “Ea va
gândi la ceva.” She will think of something.
Lightly, he chuckled into her ear. Then he kissed her, sliding his tongue inside her mouth.
Lydia wasn't in a very sexy mood, but she knew it was in her best interest to keep the man happy. So, she
pulled away from his mouth and nibbled on his throat, running her hands up and down his torso. He wasn't
an ugly man, and he didn't feel icky to her. He wasn't a body builder, though. While he was muscular and
didn't have any excess fat, his muscles didn't bulge out in fine detail. She felt his muscles anyway. They
were there, no denying it, even behind the robe. Even if he wasn't an athletic guy in his youth (and Lydia
had no idea if he was or not), he certainly wanted to keep his body strong now. She thought she should
ask him one day if he was strong all those centuries ago.
Winking up at his calm but pleased face, Lydia nudged his shoulder in something of a shove. Vlad smirked
a bit, but he laid back. Some of his wavy and earthy hair fanned out onto the bedclothes. Lydia opened his
robe and went to his shoulders and chest, kissing and licking.
She moved down to his hardening erection and took the head into her mouth, placing her fingers around
the base. Lydia ignored the pleased Mmmmm sound he made and kept going, going down a bit more. When
she was about halfway down she took her lips off of him and licked up and down the shaft. The penis
seemed to twitch. It was almost funny. She carefully squeezed his testicles with a light pressure, and the
man made a quick but deep sound in his throat.
Lydia took a rhythm then, moving her mouth up and down, occasionally squeezing his testicles. She
ignored how much her jaw hurt. She kept it up until he asked her to stop. Why he told her to stop, she
wasn't sure. She didn't complain about it.
***
Brunhilde was out in a forest again, hanging upside down from a tree branch, her bent legs supporting her.
It was very dark, but she didn't mind. Her long hair was lightly touching the earth. She didn't care.
Her doll-like oval of a face was brightened by the glow of her cell phone as she held it up. She dialed a
number, tapped the send key, and put the phone to her ear.
She spoke in Mandarin Chinese.
“Guī mó bù dà de dì dí zhàn zhēng jī hū yǐ jīng wān chéng.”
(规模不大的战争几乎已经完成。) The little war is almost finished.

Brunhilde nodded at something the other person said. “Wǒ děng zhe zhuó zháo tā men zài cì gōng jī.
Tā men zuì jìn yī zhí hěn dǎn xiǎo.”
(我等着他们再次攻击。他们最近一直很胆小。) I am waiting for
them to attack again. They have been very timid recently.

She laughed. “Shì. Wǒ kě yǐ tōu lǎn de shí hòu, wǒ xiǎng tōu lǎn.”
(我可以偷懒的时候，我想偷懒。)It is so. (Literally, the word for is). I can be
lazy when I want to be lazy.

Then she hung up. It seemed that the Passerini Family certainly understood that they were at a
disadvantage, although they didn't understand why. Brunhilde wondered if there would be a rebellion
within the family.
Now that she really thought about it, that was what made the most sense, a rebellion. The mob boss had
gotten too many of his men killed for no reason except he was pissed and insulted. Would they be
merciful and not kill him, just kick him out?
Brunhilde pulled herself up and sat on the branch.
***
Lydia wasn't quite certain how she managed to get on the carpeted floor, but she was there.
Her back was on the floor, her body bouncing back and forth. The carpet was rather plush. She wasn't
thinking about that.
She was thinking about how her legs were spread so wide they trembled, and how Vlad pounded into her.
There was a strange feeling, almost like numbness, between her legs. She still felt him inside, but she just
wasn't enjoying anything. It didn't hurt, though.
Lydia kept making sounds she imagined she was supposed to make, and sometimes she said things like, “It's
great! Yes!”
Finally he tensed up and bent over her, and Lydia knew he was ejaculating. She tried to encourage him,
rubbing his shoulders and saying sweet things. She didn't know if she helped, but he finished regardless.
A few minutes later, they were both soaking in his hot tub, nude and relaxed. She asked him, “Are you
gonna leave Claire alone?”
“Nu.” No. He offered her a glass of soda pop.
Well … she tried.
***

Chapter 34

Chapter 34
Halloween

Author's Note: Costume Porn! I'm sorry; I just love describing complicated dresses.

Learning how to punch and kick things was a fun thing to do. Sometimes, when Lydia was hitting
a punching bag, she didn't quite feel so powerless. Sometimes, when she was lifting a little dumbbell, she
could imagine there wasn't anyone who could tell her what to do.

Too bad it wasn't quite enough. She still felt like she was told what to do at times.

For example, every Halloween, Lydia dressed up as something scary. She never really wanted to
dress as a princess, except once when she was five years old. Vlad Dalca wanted to throw a Halloween
party, and he pretty much demanded that Lydia dress like a princess.

She insisted that she should dress like something scary, like an ax murderer or a yurei ghost.
Vlad showed her some examples off of he Internet of how he wanted her to dress. Lydia sighed and said,
“Okay, but I'll pick everything out.” Later, she accused Vlad of being a bit controlling. Vlad kissed her
cheek and promised that he'd do something special for her to cheer her up.

Mihai decided to dress as a stereotypical version of a French maid, with a poofy wide skirt, his
hair in a glossy bun. He even had sexy black fishnet stockings and black stiletto heels. Prudence wore a
1950s red poodle skirt and a white shirt with a little red scarf around her throat. She put her hair in a
little ponytail.

Vlad had shaved everything on his face except a thin little mustache. He dressed in a gold and
black outfit that looked kind of medieval. He even had a black hooded cloak and a false dagger belted to
his hip. When asked by his son about the costume, Vlad showed him the fake points glued to his ears.
Apparently, he was some sort of elf.

(long description of costume ahead)

 Lydia's costume was rather elaborate. She was a fairy princess … sort of. Her hair was left
long and loose; a lovely sparkly faux gold and cz diamond studded tiara was on her head, with large clips
that covered her ears. The clips displayed large bunches of red and white roses, with more cz diamonds
dangling down to her shoulders. Those shoulders of hers were bare, and the neckline was low and straight
across her bosom. The gown was mostly red with white and gold details, empire waisted. The sleeves were
long and gauntlet style; at the top, under the shoulders, the sleeves had small puffs. She put on a false
gold chain necklace with a shiny red pendant that looked like a ruby, but wasn't a ruby. Large false
butterfly wings were attached to her back, colored black, red, white, and gold.

(description over)

Vlad also told Lydia that Mihai ordered a cake, a lovely, tall, high-end cake. Then he told her
that he invited Claire Brewster.

That made Lydia almost bend her wings as she turned to yell at him. “Why the fucking hell
would you invite her?! Why the fucking hell would she even come?!”

With an expression that wasn't as innocent as it looked, Vlad told her, “Her mother asked me to
invite her. The woman also apologized for the man who insulted Mihai.”

“Her mother is more stupid than her!” Lydia stomped her way to her room, saying that someone
should come get her when the party began.

Really, rich people are fucking stupid sometimes. They freaking ruined her cake! Why would she
want to come to their party?

***

The foyer was decorated with realistic looking leaves and branches, bats and jack-o-lanterns,
spiders and skeletons, randomly blinking lights and more stable lights. There were cute foods available.
There were multicolored jello snacks, shaped like typical Halloween symbols. There were yummy cookies
of several kinds. Little round cakes had white fondant on them, draped to look like ghost sheets, with
little dark eyes. Roaches made of chocolate were piled on a large plate. There were also make-your-own
pizza and burger stands, platters of bacon wrapped finger foods, and shish kabobs. Also, there was candy,
lots of candy.

The music was … well it was kitschy and silly. It almost made Lydia laugh at times.
 Her parents were the first to arrive. Charles was dressed like a comic book superhero, while
Delia was dressed like a bar maid. Lydia was glad to see them, especially her dad. They munched on snacks
while the other guests arrived. Delia was thrilled to meet country club folk. She kissed ass, after ass,
after ass. Bertha came too, wearing a cute rag doll costume.

Lydia tried to have fun. She was even pleased when she saw Beetlejuice's face on the reflective
surface of an old fashioned clock. The demon waved at her, smiling. Lydia smiled and nodded.

She danced a silly dance with Bertha, tossed cookies into a bowl Mihai held while egging her on,
told jokes to country club members, and tried to scare Vlad by sneaking up on him and screaming. It didn't
work. He responded by turning around and kissing her.

Lydia saw Claire Brewster, dressed as a princess in pink, talking with an older and possibly rich
man. Lydia walked in another direction, not wanting anything to do with the woman.

When a tall cake was wheeled into the room everyone applauded. It looked like a sculpture of a
pile of skulls resting on a pillow with red roses. Lydia glanced at Claire's face. The woman looked at the
cake with a nasty expression, like she was sniffing crap. Lydia wondered if Claire wanted to destroy the
cake. She probably wouldn't try, though. Claire knew that Vlad had some serious dirt on her, and maybe
he could find more.

Vlad went to Lydia and asked her to help Prudence cut the cake. Lydia exhaled, but showed no
other sign of reluctance.

Once everyone had a piece of cake, which was quite delicious, Lydia sat down on a sofa and soon
found herself muttering a conversation with Beetlejuice's face, which was hidden in her necklace's
pendant. “I guess being a Stepford Smiler has its benefits,” she said to him.

“Lydia, I'm not sure if you know what that means.” The demon shook his head in the pendant.
“You're too young for that shit.”

“It's a person who puts on a happy and perfect facade even though things are pretty damn awful.”

Beetlejuice blinked up at her. A little bug ran across his face. He caught it with his tongue. “Well,
things for you ain’t half bad.”

“Come on B.J.” She took a swig of soda pop and tugged on her costume's neckline.
 “Look, Brunhilde is just doing what she has the legal right to do. She can pick any human she
wants.” He put on an almost comforting smile. “What's happening isn't a tragedy. It's business as usual.”

Lydia wanted to shake her head, and she almost did, but she stopped herself. “Who gave her the
legal right, and what government is she under?”

That was when Beetlejuice said, “Gotta go,” and faded away, leaving behind only the glittering
color in the pendant.

Damn it. He was hiding something.

She turned her head and saw Vlad sitting next to her, and her face and torso and thighs felt as
cold as freshly caught fish in a cooler with ice. She tried to think of an explanation for herself, but Vlad
simply told her, “De ce nu ar fi mi-a spus că știi această creatură?” Why wouldn't she tell me that you
know this creature?

Lydia hesitated, saw the logic, and then said, “Oh.” She was just so accustomed to keeping it a
secret. Certainly, her parents knew the demon existed, but they just didn't acknowledge it. So … to
have someone here, on Earth, acknowledge Beetlejuice in this way … it sort of rocked her mind a bit.

“Well … uhm,” she said, blinking a bit much, “Cât de mult știi despre el?” How much do you
know about him?

Vlad shrugged. “Brunhilde nu mi-ar spune prea multe despre el. Presupun că nu am voie să
știu.” Brunhilde would not tell me much about him. I assume I am not allowed to know.

Lydia smiled, and it was close to a slasher smile. “Pari tipul de om care nu-i place nu știe
lucrurile.” You seem like the type of man who doesn't like not knowing things. She gave his shoulder a
little nudge with her hand.

“Am înțeles de ce credeți că cale.” I understand why you think that way. Vlad took her hand
and stroked one of her fingers with his thumb, admiring the digits like someone admiring a delicate work
of art. “Dar, eu trebuie să accepte că nu voi ști mai multe lucruri.” But, I must accept that I will never
know many things.
 That sort of made sense. Vampires do not automatically know everything.

“Te deranjează? Prietenia mea cu el?” Does it bother you? My friendship with him?

Vlad kissed her fingers. “Brunhilde mi-a spus că mănâncă insecte. El nu este un rival.”
Brunhilde told me he eats bugs. He is not a rival.

“And he fucking stinks too.” Lydia tried to pull her hand away from him, but he tugged her hand
back to his mouth and kept kissing. She tried not to be bother by it. “El a fost un nemernic pentru mine
când am fost un copil, dar a devenit protector de mine.” He was a jerk to me when I was a child, but he
became protective of me.

Her red sleeve seemed to complement his dark sleeve. She wondered if he really thought that
she complemented him.

His free hand went under her chin, and he kissed her lips. Then he kissed her cheek. After he
kissed her ear, he said calmly, “I wanted to lock you in a room and gag your mouth, but Brunhilde told me
your little demon could find you eventually.”

Lydia pulled away from him and crossed her arms, looking away from him. Her nose wrinkled.
“He's been looking out for me! He saved my life several times!”

“Yes, she told me he would never hurt you, and I listen to everything she tells me.” Vlad gripped
one of her arms and pulled her to him. Lydia put her palms on his chest and looked up at his face. His eyes
were … sad … and Lydia suddenly felt sad too. “Lydia, vă par să atragă creaturi supranaturale.”
Lydia, you seem to attract supernatural creatures.

True, your average person didn't even get to see a real ghost in their whole life.

Lydia didn't know what to tell him, except for this, “I'm just strange and unusual.”

His eyes seemed happy again, tighter and brighter. “Îmi place asta.” I like that. He nuzzled her ear
and asked very, very quietly. “Ești menstruație?” Are you menstruating?
 Her mouth opened so quickly it was like someone yanked her jaw down with a string. She
would've given him a decently angry response, but his fingertip pushed her jaw back up and he kissed her
lips again. She shivered when he said to her, “Știați că sângele menstrual are un gust foarte frumos?”
Did you know that menstrual blood tastes very nice?

Lydia decided it was appropriate to wrench herself out of his arms and walk off. He let her go
free, but he was laughing a little, his eyes glued to her throat and shoulders. She wasn't really paying
attention, and she was shocked when she bumped into Claire Brewster's back. When Claire turned around
her face was similar to a soft orange peel being pressed, uncomfortable looking and angry. A large dark
splotch was on her pretty pink dress. It seemed that Lydia had made her spill her drink onto her dress.

Lydia put her hands up a little in a defensive gesture. “I'm so sorry!”

There was an awkward moment where they didn't speak, didn't even move. Then, Claire threw
her plastic cup onto the floor, flinging the liquid out. Screaming, she then lunged at Lydia with clawed
hands. Lydia had the good sense to get away before she could be touched; she took a bit of her long dress
in her hand to keep from tripping as she ran off. She found a bathroom and locked herself inside.

She stayed in there until Mihai knocked on the door, asking if she was okay. He didn't ask about
Claire, if he had noticed her. He didn't need to ask, because Lydia blurted out, “I couldn't let her touch me!
Vlad would ruin her!”

Mihai tapped her nose with a little feather duster. “Would that be a bad thing?” He winked.

Lydia shook her head. “I'd never forgive myself. She's some dumb bitch, not a villain.” She heard
someone shout out something. It was Claire, and she was still pissed. “Shit!” Lydia tried to run off again,
but Mihai simply took her hand and walked her right past Claire, giving the woman a bold look that
seemed to dare her to do anything violent. Claire narrowed her eyes, but she didn't lunge at anyone
again.

The rest of the party went on without incident, except that Vlad said that Lydia hadn't been
eating enough, and he kept pushing food onto her, sometimes literally into her mouth. When the party
was over, Lydia wanted to leave with her parents, but Vlad insisted that she spent the night again. Lydia
told him no, but he squeezed her arm tightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to let her know that he
didn't want an argument. So, Lydia complied.

Later that night, when Lydia was sitting on a bed in a guest room, wearing a bathrobe and
combing her recently dried hair, Vlad knocked on the door. She told him to come in.

Vlad was wearing simple black slacks and a white dress shirt. Why a dress shirt, she didn't know.
He sat down beside her and took her comb to get her attention. He set the comb on a nightstand and then
took her hands in his. “Te rog, spune-mi ce vrei cel mai mult. Eu vă voi da tot ce vrei.” Please, tell me
what you want the most. I will give you anything you want.

She knew he was referring to something material, something enough money could get.

She also knew she couldn't say what she wanted.

Lydia looked away, and removed her hands to push them into her lap.

“Domniţă!” Vlad firmly said as he took her hands again. That word meant princess or
sweetheart. “Nu m-ai auzit? Eu vă voi da tot ce vrei!” Didn't you hear me? I will give you anything you
want!

“Nu, nu va fi,” Lydia said with almost the same firmness. No, you won't.

His jaw ticked. Then he shoved her into the mattress, held her wrists at the sides of her head. He
bent over her, his face close to hers. The lines in his face looked deeper, and he seemed to look a bit more
than middle-aged. His eye brows were curved in anger. He didn't yell at her, though. He spoke very
quietly, almost whispered. “De ce mă acuzi?” What are you accusing me of?

She looked up at him with unimpressed eyes. “Refuzi să-mi dai ceea ce vreau.” You refuse to give
me what I want.

“Poate ar trebui să-mi spui ce nu vrei?” Perhaps you should tell me what you don't want? Vlad
released his wrists, but gripped her shoulders. His words were a bit faster than before.

She wanted to scream at him the word tu. Tu meant you. Instead, she said, “Get the hell off of
me.”

He obeyed and stood up. Lydia got off of the bed too. As she walked to the exit door, thinking
she'd merely ask him to leave, an impulsive feeling reddened her face and she felt that she needed to say
it. She opened the door, kept her back to Vlad, and said, “Tu.”
 Then she ran down the hallway. She heard him scream as if scalded. It was a terrible sound that
made her flinch, but she still ran.

***

Chapter 35

Chapter 35
Refusing Despair

Lydia's instincts screamed at her to flee. She got a vibe from that man. It wasn't a good vibe. So,
she skipped steps as she went downstairs. She found her slip on shoes, casually left in a corner of the
foyer. She slammed the door as she left the building and sprinted to her car.

Vlad had to be following her. She didn't see him, didn't hear him, but Lydia knew that vampire
had to be following her.

She went into her car and drove off into the night, sensing that he was nearby, not knowing she
could not see him anywhere out the windows.

Don't go home, she thought to herself. Don't go home. There was no need for her parents to see
him freaking out.

Just drive, drive, doesn't matter where you go. Just drive.

She was in a small town when she calmed down. She parked at a gas station to think; it was an
old and unused building, the only light a single street lamp.

Was he really following her? Maybe he wasn't. Nobody had been following her on the road.

Damn, she needed some air.

 Lydia opened the car door, just so she could get some air. She unbuckled her seat belt to get
comfortable in the seat.

Like a really rotten cherry on top of everything, her period had recently started too. If her pad
didn't work well tonight, she was going to scream and start biting at her car like an overstimulated dog.

Lydia rubbed her eyes and stretched out her limbs, and then someone grabbed her arm, pulled her
out of the car, and screamed at her.

She screamed. She heard a wolf's growl, felt something woosh out of her car and to the person
who grabbed her. Her assailant screamed.

Then she was released.

Lydia gripped the seat and turned herself to look at the scene. Assisted by the street lamp, she
watched, her limbs feeling sort of delicate and tingly.

A man, a dark hairy … wolf man … was on top of another man. There was a dropped gun on
the cement not far from the other man.

And that other man was screaming.

There was blood spurting out from his throat. Lydia assumed she knew why. Chewing sounds were
coming from the hairy wolf man.

She went back into her seat and shut the door. The moment Lydia's keys were touched by her
fingers, a horrible crunching and metallic sound made her cry out, and she was terrified; her hand
wouldn't even turn the key. She looked to her left, and her mouth opened, eyes bulged. The car door was
ripped off, held in the hand of the wolf man, and he peered down at her with eyes that glowed a very
eerie red. He didn't have a wolf's head, but the face certainly wasn't quite human.

Oh.

Câcat.

Shit.
 Lydia screamed again.

He nabbed her by her waist. She kept screaming, hitting his arms and chest with her fist. When
she tried to knee his crotch, he simply blocked her knee. Then she was lifted over his shoulder like a sack.

“Beetlejuice!”

“Prostesc!” Stupid.

That sounded like Vlad, only more … powerful.

“Vlad?”

And he ran. His arm held her securely, but Lydia was still afraid of falling.

He had sneaked into her car and stayed in the back the whole time.

Vlad … it was Vlad … and he was pissed … should she call Beetlejuice? Was Vlad going to
get abusive here?

She felt his that his fingers had claws, not fingernails, claws, but he wasn't scratching her, wasn't
allowing the points to dig in at all. He could do horrible things to her; he didn't. So far, he wasn't hurting
her.

He did occasionally shout out angry things as he ran, but the worst thing he called her was
stupid. Why he was carrying her off, she wasn't sure. Lydia tried to yell at him to put her down, but he
wasn't acknowledging her words.

She saw the trees become thicker, and the signs of civilization disappeared.

When he put her down, there was barely any light anywhere. She couldn't really see, but she felt
that she was standing against a thick tree.
 His still clawed hand went to her bathrobe and ripped it off. The claws didn't graze her skin.

“Oprește-l!” she screamed at him. Stop it!

“Nimic altceva nu te convinge!” Nothing else convinces you!

Such a harsh voice, guttural; it almost echoed. His bare hands felt a little rougher than normal,
with fur on the wrists, and they were sticky with blood. He moved those hands to her panties and tore
them away, and she didn't feel the cushion-like safety of her pad anymore.

He forced her upwards against the tree, pushed apart her thighs, and then his erection was
inside.

She sobbed and pulled at the thick fur on his back.

Her own menstrual fluids provided some lubrication, but she really hadn't been sexually aroused.

It was then that Lydia decided she needed to be less submissive.

“Mă doare! Oprește-te!” she shrieked. You're hurting me! Stop!

He stopped. He didn't remove himself from her, but he stopped. Lydia's inner muscles pulsed
around him. She found his shoulder and struck it with her hand. “If I get AIDS, I'll cut off your dick!”

Vlad pulled a hand away from her hips; soon he put his wrist to her mouth and said, “Bea, și nu
vei fi bolnav.” Drink, and you won't be ill. He had bitten himself there.

She hesitated.

“Doar o înghițitură,” he promised. Only one gulp.

 Fine then. Only one gulp. It made her gag a bit, but she did it.

She was surprised when he took her shoulders in his hands and led her to the ground, where she
laid on her back. Then his head slid to her legs and he licked up her thighs. Lydia imagined he was licking
off the blood that had trickled down from her. His strange face and mouth were wet and sticky too, so
she knew that dead man's blood was on her now.

Morbid, but if this would calm him the hell down … as long as she didn't get a disease …

When his teeth very lightly tapped her mons pubis, her hips jerked and she considered kicking his
face. Then he lapped at her clitoris with his tongue, and she forgot how to be angry.

“Hnnnnnmm …” She stretched her limbs and flexed her toes. She purred out, “Fiară foame.”
Hungry beast.

It kept on, and on, and she clawed at the grass and dirt, whining. She didn't mind that his face
felt like some sort of ape's or something … she did care about how lovely the throbbing between her
legs felt. When her legs shook and she cried out nonsense words, the beastly man came over her and put
his shaft into her again.

He kept on.

He just kept on.

Her back started to hurt. The ground was not a lovely bed. Her neck hurt too. At some point he
put her up against a tree again, still fucking her. Sometimes she had an orgasm, but sometimes she felt
like the whole experience was an orgasm. Only when she was weak and whining like a malnourished and
exhausted animal did he finish.

When she was finally back at the mansion, just before she fell asleep, she said to Vlad, who had
been resting beside her, “I forgot to put on my Stepford Smile. I'm sorry.”

The next evening, Vlad promised to purchase a new car for her, and she should make notes about
what she wanted in a car.

***
 Cold morning, there was a strange mist. It was thick. It danced amongst the forest, as if it had
fingers and feet. It tickled leaves. It caressed the head of a squirrel. It caressed the long and perky ears
of a rabbit. It touched the nose of a black bear. It spread out, settling into a more normal mist.

A tangled mop of red hair stood out among the wet greens and earth tones.

Brunhilde was laying on the ground, on her belly, uncaring of the wild. Her eyes opened and
peeked out between her strands of hair.

A blurred figure in fluid gray robes held out a paper white hand with amazingly long fingers
that twitched too quickly for Brunhilde to keep up with.

***

On a Saturday evening, Lydia Deetz was sewing in her bedroom at her home. She wished she was
making a fabulous and interesting outfit. Actually, she was repairing a shirt of Vlad's. He could have just
purchased a new shirt, but when his shirt got a rip in it he asked her to repair it for him. He'd better not
make a habit of this.

Her phone buzzed. It was a text from Vlad. “Masina ta va fi aici mâine.” Your car will be here
tomorrow.

She texted back, “Ok.”

“Ai terminat cu tricoul meu?” Are you finished with my shirt?

Lydia replied, “Aproape.” Almost.

Her car turned out to be fucking sweet.

When she saw it the next day, she had to admit that she wanted it. It was a bright red, shaped in
such a way that it almost looked futuristic. Vlad handed her a car key, told her it was completely paid
for, and smiled when Lydia ran to the vehicle to test it out.

***
Chapter 36

Chapter 36
Lie. Live.

Author's Note: I will use Japanese and Italian, but I don't understand these languages. Sorry for
any mistakes.

Everything was absolutely perfect; that was what Lydia worked hard to make all the outsiders
believe.

Yes, they were outsiders. They were outside this strange and painful group Lydia was trapped in.
She had to make them believe that she was living in a more delightful kind of fairy tale.

At this small but formal dinner party at the mansion, with a few members of the country club as
the guests, Lydia was putting on her best Stepford Smile. According to Vlad, Mihai and Prudence were
out having their own fun, shopping and eating out and even enjoying a comedy club. So, it was up to Lydia
to be the pretty and perfect girlfriend of the rich man, almost a housewife, apparently. She couldn't rely
on someone else to be cheerful.

Whenever she told a joke to a guest, she tried to be both funny and sexy, without being flirty
(because she really didn't want to make anyone think she wasn't in perfect love). She made certain that
her mild mermaid shaped gown was never stained by the delicious food and drinks. She made certain that
she even displayed her hands elegantly, showing off her single ring, which was a simple pearl cocktail
ring. Sometimes, Lydia glanced at something reflective to see if the strand of pearls at her throat was
set properly. Every time Vlad affectionately touched her hair, she tried to discreetly check and see if he
had dislodged some part of it. When Lydia wasn't occupied with something or someone, she looked at Vlad
with the best mild smile she could make, sometimes relaxing her eyelids a bit to make a dreamy look.

At the end of the party, Vlad put Lydia's brand new coat on her shoulders and they walked
outside to say wave goodbye at the leaving guests. The night was cool, and Lydia thought that Vlad's
body felt very hot in comparison. So, she leaned into him.

“Te iubesc,” Vlad whispered to her. I love you.

 “Eu încă nu înțeleg de ce,” Lydia replied, shrugging. I still don't understand why.

“Mulți oameni te invidiez acum, și mulți oameni le-ar invidia dacă ar ști adevărul.” Many
people envy you now, and many people would envy you if they knew the truth.

Lydia moved away from him and said with a sigh, “Vrei să faci sex sau nu?” Do you want to have
sex or not?

***

A woman, a man, and a teenager were shot in their own home. The man was Alessio Passerini.

Brunhilde didn't stop the shooting. She pitied the teenager a bit, but the death was quick and at
least the poor kid didn't have to become the next mob boss (which was probably what the shooters
wanted). She did let herself into the house after the shooters left.

She checked out the woman. She was dead. She checked out the teenager even though she knew
he was dead. Then Brunhilde went to Alessio Passerini. Like his family members, he was shot in the head.

Yet, he was technically alive. She could sense it. However, he was going to die in a few moments.

Brunhilde had a backpack on. She opened it and pulled out bottles of blood, her blood. She always
made sure she had a lot of her blood available. Her blood was more useful than a vampire's, and vampire
blood had its uses.

She twisted a cap off of a bottle and poured the blood onto the bullet wound.

Normally, if someone survives a shot to the head, there is often such brain damage that the
victim could be in a coma or at least be disabled.

Her sadism wouldn't allow that.

***
 Alessio Passerini woke up in an unfamiliar motel room, wearing nothing but a bathrobe. He was
obviously startled, but he was also confused to see a woman with wild blood colored hair sitting in a
chair next to the smelly bed.

“Good evening, Mr. Passerini.” She smiled at him in an almost sexy way, lazy and relaxed but still
aggressive.

“Where the fuck am I?”

Brunhilde tilted her head and her smile grew wider, suddenly not sexy, suddenly creepy. “You
are in a motel room. I saved your life.”

“What?!” He adjusted his body and sat on the edge of the mattress.

“See those two suitcases, and those shoes?” Brunhilde gestured towards those objects, which were
in a corner. “They're yours now. Clothes and money.”

“I don't get it.”

“Baka!” (馬鹿!) That was Japanese for idiot. Brunhilde didn't normally say random Japanese
words when speaking another language, but she had been communicating with a Japanese vampire
recently and she thought she'd play with the word. “You were assassinated by your own family. Your wife
and child are dead. You would be dead too if I didn't save you.”

Alessio's face lost some elasticity. “Merda.” That was Italian for shit.

“I'm the bitch who cut off one of your boys' legs.”

He tried to lunge at her then, but she put her palm on his forehead and shoved him back onto the
mattress. “I want you to live, Alessio.”

“What the fuck is up with you?!”

“I want you to live,” she repeated, bending over and pushing her palms into his chest, pinning him
to the bed. He stared up at her, not understanding what she was doing. “I want you to go on with your
life, live every day, knowing that if you go back to your family they will kill you, knowing that your wife
and child are dead, all because of your ego.” Brunhilde snapped her teeth at him. When he flinched, she
giggled a bit. “Live, Alessio. Live in this little hell you made.”

She moved off of him and exited the room, and she offered him no more help or information than
what she had already given him.

***

Vlad offered Lydia a little marijuana one evening, soon after a bit of fucking one night. She
refused, and then asked if he was going to smoke some. He told her that years ago he tried it, but he found
it quite boring.

“Well, why did you get some?” Lydia asked him.

“I thought you might like to smoke some,” he told her. He didn't insist at all. “I think I will
dispose of this, then.”

On a Saturday afternoon, Lydia saw Prudence accidentally drop a small bag of weed. Lydia
ignored it. It was just weed.

On a Sunday evening, Lydia was typing on her laptop at her home when she got an email from
Bertha, claiming Mihai was taking Prudence and her on a shopping trip in a few days, and Lydia was
invited. Lydia politely declined.

On a Monday night, she got a text from Vlad.

“The Passerini family is finished with your family.”

Lydia laughed at that. She didn't have to be afraid of gangsters anymore. Nope. Now she just had
to convince a vampire with a needy personality to dump her, since the reason why he was protecting her
is gone.

That just wasn't going to happen very easily. The man was a firm thing.

Lydia texted back to Vlad, “I'll tell my dad.”

 Of course, Charles was nearly energetic as he cheered the good news. He hugged Lydia and kissed
her cheeks. Then he said, “Will that man leave you alone now?”

She shook her head, and Charles' good cheer evaporated.

“He says he loves me, Dad.”

Charles patted his daughter's shoulder. “Well … well you are loveable, Pumpkin.” His face
wasn't so comforting; he was pretty much wilted.

“I'm a kept woman now, Dad.”

“Do you want to be a kept woman?”

Lydia shrugged. “Well, not his kept woman. Crazy guy asked me to marry him, ring and
everything.”

“If he asked you to marry him, you're not a kept woman. You're just a high maintenance
girlfriend.” Charles still looked wilted.

***

Vlad asked her to go out to dinner with her, and she felt like she had to agree. So, Lydia put on
one of her plainer knee-length dresses, a cool gray with a scoop neckline, butterfly sleeves. She didn't
wear any jewelry. She put on simple flat black shoes and put her hair in a braid.

She was pretty under-dressed in the restaurant. It was a formal place. Vlad was dressed flashier
than her. He was wearing a lovely dark blue suit with a gold colored shirt and black tie. He had a
particularly sparkly jewel on his tie. His wavy brown hair was pulled back with an old fashioned looking
thin ribbon.

Vlad welcomed her with his usual attitude towards her. He kissed her and squeezed her hands
and arms. He pulled out her seat for her. Once they both had ordered from the menus, Vlad told her all
sorts of things. He told her how he was considering having a house built for both of them to live in,
without Mihai and Prudence. He mentioned that Claire Brewster was engaged to marry someone. Vlad
said the unlucky man was probably a very patient man, and so probably very admirable, perhaps the
reincarnation of a monk or saint. Vlad also said that he managed to get a promise of invitations for the
wedding through Mrs. Brewster's insistence.
 “I do believe that woman wants to have sex with me,” Vlad whispered to Lydia, his nose wrinkling
in amusement. “She asked me to have coffee with her, and she touched my arm in a manner I did not
approve of.”

Lydia nodded. “Please use a condom.”

Vlad blinked, his mouth opening only slightly, almost smiling. He moved his head in a curious
way, suggesting that he was surprised. “You assume I would do as Mrs. Brewster's wishes?”

“She's pretty.” Lydia shrugged and put her hands in her lap.

“I have you.” He held out his hand on the table, palm upwards. Vlad evidently wanted her hand,
but Lydia didn't put her hand in his.

“I don't need you to have me.” Lydia's eyes went down to the edge of the table. She lowered her
voice. “My family's not in danger right now. I can give you almost everything you bought for me, can't
give back food I ate. I can give you back the money you gave me for school. If I could give you more to
make you understand that I don't want any more of this, I would.”

He didn't speak for a few minutes. Lydia was quiet too.

The server came with the food. Vlad thanked the server curtly. Then he said to Lydia, “What
disqualifies me in your eyes?”

“Too old for me,” Lydia said immediately, turning her head a bit.

“You are an adult, nobody is too old for you.” He waved his hands in a dismissive gesture.
“Another disqualification?”

“You're controlling.”

Vlad pushed her plate a little closer to her. “Please eat your meal before it cools. Now, I know I
am controlling, but people can learn, and I have learned many things. Allow me to learn how to become
less controlling, and perhaps you can learn how to adjust yourself to a slightly dominant partner, or do
you not desire someone who is slightly dominant?”
 Well, Lydia knew she wasn't exactly dominant. She didn't know if she really wanted a dominant
partner. She decided to ignore his question. “You break things when you're angry.”

“I admit that is a problem, but I only break things when I am angry and heartbroken. When I am
angry, I find the source of my anger and unleash hell upon it.”

Lydia slid her plate close to the end of the table. She wasn't interested in it. “That's another
disqualification. You're a bully.”

“I am a bully to those I hate. I hate Claire because she treats you poorly.”

“So that justifies you being a bully?”

“Da.” Yes.

Lydia put her fingertips to her forehead, just above her eye. “And there is that thing we will not
talk about here.”

“Yes, that thing.” He nodded. “That thing is not a strain.”

“Not for you. You're a political butt kisser. You kissed the right butt and you have the easy life
for eternity.”

Vlad smiled at her. “And so will you.”

“I don't think I can handle this thing we will not talk about here.”

“Mândră, o ia în considerare.” Sweetheart, consider it. He put a ring box on the table.

Lydia gave the box a snort instead of a smile. She folded her arms. “Nu se va deschide.” I won't
open that.

“Lydia, you don't have to.”

 “Good.” She slapped the box into Vlad's direction and slid her plate back to herself. “And I won't
go out to dinner with you anymore.”

“I hope you will,” Vlad said, quite calm. “And, there is no need for you to return anything to me.
Gifts are gifts, and gifts are not loans.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, but she decided this was a good start. He wasn't even speaking with a stern
tone. She thought she'd get him to give up on her, if she just kept trying.

***

Chapter 37
Chapter 37
Come

Author's Note: I've been busy with other projects. Apologies for the lack of updates. Also, more apologies
for any errors in translations with foreign languages, and typos in general.
Brunhilde's friends left the Deetz household. Charles was happy about that. He didn't always have two
strangers in his house anymore.

Lydia hadn't really heard from Vlad in a few days, except one text in each of the evenings, asking if she
would go on a date with him. Lydia would always refuse.
Finally, one evening, when Lydia was reading a short novel for a class, she got a phone call from Mihai.
He sounded urgent and irritated, like someone who had to listen to a dog bark for hours and hours.
“Lydia, please, come over!”
“What? Why?”
“My father locked himself in his bedroom days ago! He hasn't emerged, and when he's not weeping he's
breaking furniture and putting holes in the walls!”
Strange as this thought was, Lydia expressed it. “Does he have enough to drink?”
“He always keeps a supply nearby. Lydia, please comfort him!”
Lydia put her book into a drawer and closed it. Something about this kind of made her sad. She didn't
enjoy it. “What can I do?”
“I'm desperate! Lydia, please, dress in a beautiful outfit! Something glamorous and expensive! He loves
that! Go to him and hold him!”
“I'm not gonna do that!” Her nostrils flared.
“He punched me, Lydia.”
“Why on earth would that make me want to go over there?”
“He punched me because I broke his door open, grabbed his shoulders, and yelled at him.”
Lydia paused, and then she snorted. “Okay, you asked for that.”
“Please, come! He won't talk to anyone but you! Brunhilde came and laughed at it! The bitch actually
thinks it's funny! She won't try to calm him down! She just left!”
“Fine … fine … I'll doll myself up and I'll text you when I'm on my way.”
Poor Vlad. The man was having a tantrum that lasted for days, and all over her. She didn't really think
she was that important.
***
If Mihai wanted something glamorous and expensive, then Lydia decided he would get just that.
She picked out one of the more expensive gowns Vlad had purchased for her. She remembered that he
bought it because he had seen her looking at it on the Internet. In reality, Lydia had been wondering how
to make something similar, with slightly different details.
Well, she had the gown; it was a designer sort of gown. It was long, with a bright floral print. The
flowers were very colorful, like a rainbow, and they almost looked real. Normally, Lydia didn't wear such
colors all at once, blue, yellow, white, orange, and even pink. There wasn't a hint of black. The flowery
gown was in a mild trumpet shape, flared from the knees. The sleeves were long and fitted, and the
neckline was very high. She picked out a long lariat necklace of black beads. Lydia put her hair up into a
simple low bun. She impaled the bun with a Chinese looking hair stick, made of wood, with sparkling little
jewels dangling from the end.
Lydia put on as little makeup as possible, wanting to look natural, and then she left for Vlad.
The mansion looked darker than usual. Lydia parked her car in a garage and took a back door into the
place. Once she had walked down a hallway inside, she could hear the weeping and moaning. Sometimes it
sounded like a man crying, sometimes it sounded like a wolf whining. There was the occasional scream,
which made Lydia jump.
Mihai found her; he had a black eye. Lydia had never seen him with a black eye before. She wanted to
laugh, but she didn't. “I would offer you a drink, but this is an emergency.”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “I'll fuck the asshole if I have to.”
“Oh, how I want to say 'That's what Prudence said,'” Mihai said as he rubbed his temple. “I'm leaving. I need
to watch something funny. Bar people are funny.”
“Where's Prudence?”
Mihai's eyelid flinched. “Brunhilde took her, wanted to introduce her to some people. I need to go.”
He left then; Lydia thought the real reason he left was because he didn't want to hear his father fucking
anyone.
Quickly she ran to Vlad's room; her white flats felt a little bit loose, but thankfully they didn't slip off.
She banged on his door with her fist, screaming, “Deschide usa imediat, idiotule!” Open this door
immediately, Idiot!
Then it was nearly silent, except for the single gasp behind the door, and the feet tapping onto the floor
as Vlad apparently went to the door. Once the door was open, Lydia felt a surge of pity.
Wearing nothing but a thin cotton robe, he looked like he was between the prime of youth and old age,
leaning towards old age. He was thinner (which wouldn't make any sense if she didn't know about his
shape shifting abilities), and his hair was thinner too, although it was still that rich dark color. There
were dark half-circles under his eyes, but they were alert, and he started at her. He was moving his lips
slightly, like he was mumbling something but not saying anything at all.
Lydia made a light gesture with her hand, and Vlad complied by backing up a bit. Lydia entered his room
and closed the door behind her. She looked around and said calmly, “What a brat.”
Just about every piece of furniture was broken, except the bed, which looked pristine and perfect. The
only light came from the ceiling fixture. The other lamps were broken. There were broken vases too.
Lydia knew she had to be careful when she walked, or else she would step on something sharp. The walls
were scratched, like a beast had angrily used its claws. Some parts had crumbled depressions in it, like
the wall had been hit by something.
“Vlad,” Lydia said very sweetly, “Why don't we clean up, hm?”
“Why are you here?” His voice had a weak sort of flavor in it, like it was watered down.
“Mihai said you needed comfort.” She smirked at him. “But I think you just need to clean this place up.”
“Cum poate o femeie să-mi vorbească atât de răutăcios?” How can such a woman speak to me so
viciously?
Lydia stepped close to him and pressed her cheek to his chest. He seemed surprised, judging by the way his
body jerked, but his arms wrapped around her so tightly that Lydia had slight difficulty breathing. She
made a squealing sound, and he loosened his embrace.
She told him, “Tu esti imatur, și că e deranjant. Ești prea bătrân pentru asta.” You're immature, and
that's disturbing. You're too old for this. She hugged him. “Dar, te las să mă ții.” But, I'll let you hold me.
“Lasă-mă să fac mai mult,” he begged. Let me do more.
Half an hour later, they weren't in Vlad's bedroom. They were in the kitchen. Lydia was sitting on a
counter, nude. Vlad was showing her a neat little thing a peeled banana could be used for.
***
Prudence was at a pizza restaurant/bar, with Brunhilde sitting beside her, and a small group of people she
really didn't know. It was kind of dim, there were some women walking around and holding their stiletto
heels. Technically, she wasn't supposed to be in there. But, for some reason, nobody checked her I.D. when
she went inside. The bartender was extremely gracious to Brunhilde, and kept offering drinks for free,
but Brunhilde insisted on paying anyway. She didn't let Prudence drink any alcohol, and that sort of
pissed Prudence off, but Prudence knew she had no right to complain.
Brunhilde had told her these people's names. She didn't remember those names. They didn't try to be
friendly.
At one point, after Brunhilde made certain that Prudence had finished eating her pizza, Brunhilde said to
her, “I like you, Girl. You're an innocent thing, easy to mold.”
Prudence decided to ignore her. She gave Prudence the creepiest creeps.
“It's a good thing I gave her to Mihai,” Brunhilde said to one man. “He'll keep her happy and safe. He's
sweet in that way, like a Papa.”
The man replied, “You think she'd be good for certain people?”
Prudence didn't know what he meant by that, but she thought it might have something to do with
murder.
Brunhilde smiled at him. “Deceit is fun when used properly. Not even a sin. Same for killing.”
And that was when Prudence wondered if she would be killing anyone; she vomited a little in her mouth.
***
“De ce ai distrus dormitorul tau?” Lydia asked Vlad in almost a whisper. She was very tired. Why did you
destroy your bedroom?
“Am fost foarte supărat,” Vlad told her. I was very angry. "And, I do not wish to unleash hell upon you."
“De ce?” Why?
“Te iubesc foarte mult. Când m-ai refuzat, sufletul meu a început să mănânce departe la inima mea.” I
love you very dearly. When you refused me, my soul began to eat away at my heart.
“From a spiritual standpoint, you could say the heart and soul are the same thing,” Lydia said.
Their bodies were spread out on the floor of a drawing room. There was a plate on the floor too, bearing
sliced fruit. Lydia was eating some when Vlad said, “Dacă eu nu te pot proteja, Mihai va fi. Nu există nici
un pericol în brațele mele.” If I cannot protect you, Mihai will. There is no danger in my arms.
She sighed, offered him some fruit. He took it without any protest. “Îmi place de tine. Recunosc asta.” I
like you. I admit that. “Singurul tip de violență îmi place este un fel de ficțiune.” The only violence I
like is the kind in fiction. “Dacă-mi un film de groază bun spectacol, voi fi mulțumit, dar eu nu vreau să
văd oameni reali obține rănit, iar eu nu vreau să știu, fie.” If you show me a good horror film, I'd be
pleased, but I don't want to see real people get hurt, and I don't want to know either.
There was a pause.
Then Vlad said, “Eu nu pot promite că nu va asista din nou violență.” I can never promise that you will
never witness violence again. “Pot să promit că voi încerca să te protejeze. Pot să promit că voi
asculta preocupările dumneavoastră.” I can promise that I will try to protect you. I can also promise
that I will listen to your concerns.
“Does that mean you'll do what I say?”
Vlad gripped her hand with his. “No. I will try to bend to your will, but only when I think that would be a
reasonable thing to do.”
“Leaving Claire Brewster alone sounds reasonable to me.”
He pulled her hand to his lips. After a kiss, he said, “I will not harass her, but when I notice hostile
actions from her, I will react, and she will come to the wedding, because I hate her.”
Lydia pulled her hand away and sat up. Looking down at him, she said, “What wedding?”
Vlad grinned, and his eyes seemed a bit brighter. “Our wedding. There will be flowers, crystals, several
wedding cakes, perhaps.”
“Oh my God, Nu.” Nu means no. Lydia closed her eyes and rubbed her lids with her fingertips.
“Or, we could have lovely drapery,” mused Vlad, “Gold, I like the color gold. I also like the metal. Claire va
fi gelos, îmi place conceptul.” Claire will be jealous; I love the concept.
Lydia breathed out, “You're an asshole.”
“Join me for dinner tomorrow, please.”
“Eeerrrrgg … I wanna say no … but,” Lydia groaned out. “You got this … penis … and it's
awesome, and … Aaaahh.” She made a pouty face. “And I like you. Damn it.” She wondered if she would
get a headache soon. “And I don't like it when you throw tantrums. I don't know if I feel sorry for you or
if I want to smack you, or both.”
“I like that pretty flower dress. Where is it?” He sat up too, and then he started looking around.
“You ripped it off me. I think half of it's in your room and the other half is in the kitchen.”
“Oh, scuzaţi-mă!” Oh, I'm sorry! He didn't look sorry. Vlad's mouth showed off too many teeth for him to
look sorry.
“I didn't like that dress anyway. It was pretty, though.”
“Pick out another that is for sale. I will buy it.”
Lydia made a hmmmm sort of sound. Then she said, “I'm . I'm your girlfriend.”
“Please do not call me a boyfriend. I am not a boy. I am your lover.”
Lydia made an eeeehhh sort of sound.
***
It was December. It was getting pretty cold. Lydia had noticed that she was getting a little bit of a six-
pack, but it wasn't obvious. She also noticed that opening jars was easier than before. This workout
routine had lovely benefits.
Sadly, she also noticed that when she met Prudence, she seemed anxious and sad, sometimes angry, and
when she was happy she usually smelled like marijuana. Lydia asked Mihai about it. The man told her, “I
don't mind giving her a little bit. A small amount won't harm her.”
“What if she becomes an addict?”
“I won't let her become an addict,” was Mihai's answer. “And please consider this, most marijuana smokers
don't become addicted.”
“But sometimes, it happens,” Lydia told him. “She seems depressed, and she might think she needs this stuff.
The only reason she's been working out is because Brunhilde insists. Normally I wouldn't give a shit about
weed, but Prudence isn't acting like she's healthy.”
“The weed certainly isn't the cause of her depression, is it?”
Lydia had to admit that was obvious. “At least keep her away from alcohol and illegal stuff.”
“Well I do give her alcohol,” confessed Mihai.
She stomped her foot. “You're such a dipshit! Oprește-te!” Stop that. “You know that shit's a depressant!”
Holding his hand up in a defensive gesture, Mihai said, “No more than a single glass of something a night, I
promise. I don't like to deny her anything.”
“Well then, fuck her more often! Sex is good for the brain.”
“I can't believe you just told me that.”
***
Mihai texted Brunhilde on the 2nd day of December, close to the evening. “Why don't you hurry up and
bite her? The wait is more torturous than the action.”
Brunhilde replied to him, “It's difficult to explain, and so I won't.”
The next morning, Mihai was woken up by Prudence's laughter at a model in a magazine. She was sitting
beside his bed, and he wasn't sure why; she smelled very much like weed. “I need to sleep. Go laugh
somewhere else.”
“Mihai!” She stretched out the “ai” part of his name in a childish way. “This girl looks like you!”
He humored her for a moment, looking at the picture. “She's Japanese, and she's wearing a pink wig. Now,
go online shopping, or eat something, just let me sleep.”
Prudence laughed at him, but she kissed his mouth and left the room. Mihai noticed that she left a lit
joint in an ashtray on the floor. He put it out and went back to sleep.
***

Chapter 38
Chapter 38

Between

Author's Note: I feel like I have to keep apologizing … because I don't speak Romanian. I might
get a lot of stuff wrong here. Also, sexual abuse of children will be discussed. Rape with a foreign object
will also be discussed. However, none of that stuff will actually happen in this chapter, no graphic details.

THWACK!! !

“AAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHH!”
 “Mother of . .”

“Dear Prudence, you need to be tougher,” Brunhilde said in a loving tone.

It wasn't a pleasant night.

Brunhilde and Prudence were sitting in comfortable chairs beside each other, and Brunhilde’s
hand was firm on Prudence's shoulder. The house they were in belonged to some vampire Brunhilde had
never met. They were watching something Prudence didn't want to see, in someone's bedroom.

Two of Brunhilde's babies, a man and a woman, had another woman chained to a chair with a stiff
back. She was a very pretty woman, dark skin and lovely chocolate colored eyes, and she was naked. They
had just hit her leg with a metal baseball bat. There was a popping sound, but it was faint. Most of the
noise came from the victim.

Brunhilde didn't told her exactly why this woman was being attacked like this. She did say that
the woman was in fact one of her babies, and she would heal easier than a normal person, even if she
didn't like the pain.

“Why the hell did you bring me here?!” Prudence thought she might cry.

“You need to become more accustomed to violence,” explained Prudence, as the victim received
another whack. “Gonna see much worse than this, Sweet Pea.”

“Why do they have to do this?”

With a shrug, Brunhilde answered, “She broke some of my rules, and they are very important
rules.”

THWACK!! !

“PLEASE!! ! !”

“Oooooh,” Brunhilde murmured, “That one was nice.”

 “You're a sick bitch!” Prudence didn't normally call people sick bitches, but she was very stressed.

“Oh, Mon Trognon,” Brunhilde said with a grin, “I can't help but enjoy a taste of violence.
Excitement is difficult for me, but violence can be so entertaining when done correctly.” She just said
that as if it was the most pleasant fact in the world. (Mon Trognon is a French term of endearment, it
literally means “My Fruit Core.”)

***

They were in a bar and it wasn't high class. It wasn't a low class establishment either. The music
that was playing was at a moderate level. There was a glass display case along a wall showing off old
action figures in whimsical scenes. It was actually adorable. It was a two story tall establishment, and
not very large. The first floor was the bar area, and the second floor was an indoor balcony area with
couches and board games.

And Lydia had no idea why nobody asked for her I.D. The place didn't seem sketchy. It seemed
like a law abiding establishment. They should ask for her I.D. She shouldn't be in here.

“I'm not sure why you wanted to come here,” Lydia mumbled to Vlad, “but I'm not gonna bitch
about it. It's a nice place.”

“I thought you would like the atmosphere.”

They sat down together at the bar area. Lydia didn't want to drink any alcohol; she asked for a
soda. Vlad took a small glass of something that smelled sharp. There wasn't very many people in the place.
It was a calm place.

They just sat there, chatting about silly things that weren't even important. The bartender was
a friendly thin man with a messy but short beard. He was pleasant to tell jokes with. Sometimes, Vlad
discreetly poked her thigh with his fingertip and then grinned at her. Lydia often responded by
pinching his arm.

“Hey, Îmi fac griji pentru Prudence,” Lydia told him, holding his hand and keeping him from poking
again. I'm worried about Prudence.

Vlad nodded, and the joy disappeared from his face. “Regina este o chinuitoare. Nu știu de ce. În
mod normal, că femeia va pretinde un nou copil rapid. Tortura este rezervat pentru cei care-l merită.”
The Queen is tormenting her. I don't know why. Normally, that woman will claim a new baby quickly.
Torture is reserved for those who deserve it. “Acest lucru nu este un comportament normal pentru B.”
This isn't normal behavior for B. “Fata nefericit suferă.” The unfortunate girl is suffering.

Lydia took a swig of her soda. “Acest lucru mă face furios.” This is making me angry.

“Sunt, de asemenea, îngrijorat. Regina se comportă ciudat. Ea a fost întotdeauna în

concordanță cu acest tip de acțiune.” I am also concerned. The Queen is acting strangely. She has always
been consistent with this sort of action.

“Aaah … what can we do?”

Vlad held an ice cube to his mouth and sucked on it, staring at bottles that were on display.

“Vlad?” She looked at his face. “What can we do?”

He put the ice back into his glass. “To stop Brunhilde? Nothing. One cannot stop Brunhilde. One can
only rile her, or please her.”

Then Lydia's stomach chilled as she wondered if Brunhilde would be willing to take a
replacement.

A replacement.

Well …

Lydia didn't like to see innocent people suffer.

She looked down at her soda and sniffed. A tear tickled her skin. Damn it, this wasn't the place to
get emotional.

Vlad put his arm around her shoulders. “De ce plângi?” Why are you crying?
 Lydia closed her eyes and lowered her head a bit. “Da … da . .” She trembled. “Dacă i-am
inlocuit . . ar fi ea o lași în pace?” If I replaced her . . would she leave her alone?

“Ce?” What? Vlad touched her jaw with his fingers and turned her head to face him. He lightly
pressed his forehead into hers, forcing eye contact. He spoke quietly, solemnly. “Că nu ar trebui să fie un
motiv pentru a deveni ei.” That should never be a reason for becoming hers.

“Well fuck, why not?” retorted Lydia, giving him a delicate smile. “Nu este mai bine să alegeți
că viața decât să fie forțat? Cere fiul tău.” Is it not better to choose that life than to be forced? Ask
your son. She said the last sentence very slowly, with plenty of space between each word.

His jaw twitched. “Nu fi supărat pe mine. Nu l-am adus la Regina. Ea a decis pe cont propriu.”
Don't be angry with me. I did not bring him to the Queen. She decided on her own.

“And you chose it,” she told him, like she was accusing him of something. “What kind of things
have you done? Hm? What does she tell you to do? You are her favorite.”

His nostrils flared. “Omor, răpire, furt, tortura, viol cu un obiect străin. Ultimul act a fost rare.
Am făcut asta doar de două ori.” Homicide, kidnapping, theft, torture, rape with a foreign object. The
last act has been rare. I have done that only twice.

Lydia yelped and tried to get away from him, but he gripped her shoulders and kept their close
eye contact, foreheads still touching.

Vlad demanded very quietly, “Listen to me, Scumpa mea!” That meant, “Darling” or “My Sweet!” He
smiled at her. “Ambele victime ale violurilor mele au fost pedofili.” Both victims of my rapes were child
molesters.

Lydia still felt sick to her stomach. “Ești un violator.” You're a rapist. She could barely say that,
but she said it. It hurt to say it. She was sniffing more, and there were more tears. Her face was hot. Her
stomach felt like the thing full of ice that the nearby bartender was shaking.
 “Penisul meu a rămas foarte flasca. Ia confort în faptul.” My penis remained very flaccid. Take
comfort in that fact. He was still smiling; the rapist was still smiling. “Cele mai multe vampirii nu sunt
foarte crud, dar am cruzime necesare pentru cele mai cumplite lucruri dorințe Brunhilde.” Most vampires
are not very cruel, but I have the cruelty required for the most terrible things Brunhilde desires.

“Vi ...violul… nu este niciodată bine.” Rape is never okay. Lydia stuttered slightly.

“Cu considerat crimele lor, în realitate, am fost indulgent.” With their crimes considered, in
reality, I was lenient. “Aceste creaturi nu au fost mulțumiți cu o simplă mîngîieri, care este încă
destul de rău. Ei au fost vicios, folosit robie. Dispozitivele care nu ar trebui să fie folosite ca jucării
sexuale au fost folosite ca jucării sexuale. Ei au publicat durerea copiilor pe Internet.” Those creatures
were not satisfied with simple fondling, which is still quite evil. They were vicious, used bondage. Devices
that should never be used as sex toys were used as sex toys. They published the children's pain on the
Internet.

She stared at him. The bartender gave them a curious look, but he knew this was none of his
business. Nobody was getting hurt, and so he shouldn't care.

“Draga mea, am fost violată când am fost un copil.” Sweetheart, I was raped when I was a child.

Lydia felt her face loosen. She swallowed down something in her throat. She didn't know what it
was. “What the fuck? Who did that? Your dad?”

“Oh no.” Vlad just kept smiling. His voice was darker. “Povestea este complicată. Eu nu va elabora.
Dar, nu cred niciodată că părinții mei ar face ceva atât de dezgustător.” The story is complicated. I
will not elaborate. But, don't ever think that my parents would do something so disgusting.

“That doesn't … God …” She was getting a headache, and there were more tears. “That
doesn't make it okay. I can't … I can't accept this part of you.”

His fingers pressed into her shoulders tighter. “There is no need for you to accept this part of me.
Tu nu viola copii.” You don't rape children.
 And then he hugged her.

“I love good women, Lydia. I was raised by a lovely mother. She and her friends loved me. Even
those who did not love me treated me kindly. I was coddled.”

He didn't continue. He just kept hugging her.

After a few moments, he pulled away to kiss her mouth and smile at her. “The world is not
'either, or.' There is always a 'maybe,' a 'perhaps,' or a 'between.'”

Lydia lowered her eyes. “Can you promise they deserved it? Those two people?”

“I swear myself to that fact.”

She let her eyes move up to meet his. “This was not the proper place to talk about all that stuff.”

Vlad tapped her nose with his fingertip; he chuckled. “Even intelligent people will be
inappropriate.” He got out of his seat. “Walk with me, please. I want to explore the streets at night.”

“We'll get mugged.” Lydia said this with a smile she didn't quite feel.

“You are safe with me.”

And he led her out on to the sidewalk outside. They just walked, holding hands. Someone did try
to mug them, with a gun. It was only one man. Vlad snatched the gun out his hand so quickly that Lydia
didn't see the movement. Then he struck the man in his head with the gun handle. The mugger fell to the
pavement. Rather casually, as if he had done this several times, Vlad unloaded the gun and dropped it and
the bullets onto the sidewalk.

Lydia hadn't felt any fear at all. She just put on her Stepford Smile.

“What if there had been several people? People attack in groups sometimes.”

Vlad kissed her again. “The quickest thing to do for us would be to flee. I am very fast; you know
this. I can also steal you away very quickly.” Lydia smiled at that. “If I was angry, I could simply kill
them all.” Lydia put her palm to her face at that.
 ***

Chapter 39
Chapter 39

A Sad Rage

Vlad kissed her again that night, when they were alone in his bedroom.

Yet, Lydia felt nauseous; the word rapist kept flashing through her mind like a siren.

“I can't,” she told him. “I just can't. I can't … I can't touch you right now.”

He knew what she meant by “touch.”

“I understand … but please do not remove yourself from me completely. I enjoy walking with
you too much.”

Well, she was still technically his girlfriend.

***

There was a couple from the country club that showed a strange interest in Lydia and her lover.
The couple was married, a man and a woman, known as The Averys; they were roughly in middle age.
Lydia didn't particularly like the couple. The man was Caleb Avery, a tall one with richly tanned skin
and slightly thinning blond hair. He had a mouth that made Lydia uncomfortable. He had a habit of
licking his lips at inappropriate times, and when he smiled he did it so obviously that it seemed he wanted
to display all of his perfect teeth. The woman was Bekki Avery, a shorter but curvy one, with a lighter
skin tone, and long straight brown hair. She was a little older than her husband, or at least Lydia
assumed she was. Bekki didn't seem to want anyone to assume that, judging by the way she dressed. The
woman wore the loudest, shortest, littlest dresses Lydia had ever seen on a middle aged woman. Now,
there is absolutely nothing wrong with an older woman wearing such dresses, but Mrs. Avery seemed to
think they were the only thing she was allowed to wear. Lydia knew that if she ever saw that woman in
a pair of pants she would be very surprised.

Lydia heard them mention a child of theirs once, a little girl. Strange, they didn't really talk
about their daughter much at all. Lydia never really thought about it much, but every once in a while,
she found herself thinking, “Oh wait … they have a kid, don't they? I almost forgot.” She had never seen
a photograph of the kid.

These were real butt kissers (which wasn't really odd or weird), and something about Vlad they
just liked. Thanks to her relationship with Vlad, they at least pretended to like Lydia. The Averys
always invited them to dinner. Vlad had never shown any interest in them, and he seemed to notice
Lydia's lack of interest too, because he would usually look at her face before declining an invitation.

One day Caleb Avery made a promise of Blackberry-Raspberry Truffle Cake. Lydia turned to Vlad
and asked him, “Vrei să gust un pic din asta?” Do you want to taste a little of that?

Vlad told her, “Nu, dar vă place tortul. De ce nu ar trebui sa mergem?” No, but you like cake.
Why shouldn't we go?

The Averys lived in a very nice house. They served a very nice little dinner. Mr. Avery kept
trying to convince Vlad to invest in something with him. Lydia wanted to make a facepalm every time
Mr. Avery mentioned it.

Lydia noticed the absence of photographs of a child in the house. More importantly, there seemed
to be an absence of a child. It wasn't too late in the evening. Was the kid sleeping anyway?

When dessert was served, Lydia found that the Blackberry-Rasberry Truffle Cake was indeed
fantastic.

She didn't get to enjoy more than two forkfuls of the cake, because after she had swallowed the
second forkful a little girl of maybe eight years walked into the dining room; keep in mind that Lydia
actually likes children. Lydia wasn't sure if the girl's movements could truly be called walking. The girl
moved very slowly, as if moving the muscles in her thighs caused her pain. She was wearing a simple and
short dark pink cotton dress, and nothing else. The dress was stained with … something kind of white
with maybe a yellow tint. The frightening part was how discolored her skin looked in some places, and
the fact that the girl had a black eye, and something that looked like a lover's bite on her ankle.
 She looked so sad … and afraid … but she was brave enough to say in a soft little voice,
“Mommy, my pee hurts.”

Lydia looked at Vlad.

Vlad looked at Bekki, which made sense since she was the child's mother. Vlad had a very stiff
and glassy look in his eyes.

Bekki apologized, saying, “Kids are silly sometimes.” She left the table and took the little girl's
hand. She pulled, the girl out of sight.

And then there was a loud slapping sound, and then the horrible sound of a girl screeching.

Lydia bolted from her seat. She saw the girl in a corner, crying. Bekki, the mother, was looking
quite menacing.

It grew, a feeling, like hatred, like anger, like outrage. A tingling sensation was in her throat,
and her face burned.

Like fury.

Lydia lunged towards Bekki, and she screamed at Bekki. She didn't know what she was screaming.
She punched any part of Bekki she could find, pulled her beautiful long hair, shoved her into the walls.
Bekki fought back too. Lydia felt the pain. There was even pain in punching her.

She just wanted that bitch to suffer.

And when she was done, she'd go after the dad.

Vlad pulled her away, shouting, “Ascunde în casa mea! Voi suna CPS!” Hide in my house! I'll call
CPS!

She didn't want to stop hurting the mother. Lydia tried to pull away from him. “Vreau ca acesti
monstri teapa ca kebab frigărui!” I want these monsters impaled like shish kabobs!
 Suddenly Lydia felt more pain, and she fell back. Caleb Avery had punched her in the face, even
when she had been restrained by Vlad. That was when Vlad shouted at her again, demanding that she
leave. Then he punched Caleb hard enough to knock him out.

Well, he was more experienced in the art of hurting people. Damn it.

“Sper să le violeze cu bețe de hochei!” I hope you rape them with hockey sticks! Lydia screamed
that statement out at him. Vlad just threw his car keys at her.

Lydia really didn't want to leave. She wanted to see more pain. She left, however, and drove to
the mansion.

***

She kept ice to her cheek for a while. That's where most of the force went. Caleb probably wasn't
a professional fighter. Her face hurt for a long time, and it looked swollen and bruised, but it wasn't too
nasty a punch. She was more worried about her hands. They were injured, not broken in anyway, but
really sore and bleeding in some places.

Vlad came home at midnight. At that time, Lydia was sleeping in his bedroom, wearing a
nightgown. He woke her up, smiling down at her. He had turned on a lamp (which was fairly new, like most
of the things in the recently renewed bedroom). He looked rather handsome and refreshed.

“Am un cadou pentru tine.” I have a gift for you. He seemed to be hiding it behind his back.

Lydia rubbed her eyes and sat up. “The fuck? What is it?”

He gave her a cone with a scoop of ice cream. Lydia smiled at him. Who could deny something
like that? She took the treat and licked at it. Vlad patted her head and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Vlad sighed, and then he said, “Asta a fost o experiență ciudată. Mama a fost o prostie, ea nu
știa cum să fie discret.” That was an odd experience. The mother was stupid; she didn't know how to be
discreet. “Tatăl a fost molestat copilul. Mama a dat vina pe copil.” The father had been molesting the
child. The mother blamed the child.
 After a few more licks, Lydia said, “Some people are sick fucks.” Then she held her ice cream
carefully, resting her hands in her lap. She remembered what she felt a few hours ago. Lydia looked down
at the ice cream, feeling a little bit afraid to look at Vlad's eyes.

“I had a … a creepy feeling … when I went after that bitch.”

Vlad nodded.

Lydia swiped a little bit of ice cream onto her finger. She licked that little bit away.

“Are you becoming a sadist, Amantă?” Vlad asked her with a tone that was too light. He was
probably teasing her. That last word he used was a term of affection, could have meant “sweetheart” or
“mistress.”

“No, no, no … I don't think … no.” She pulled her cone up to take another lick at it. “I was too
… I … I was just … I don't know.” Lydia shrugged. “It was like I was heartbroken, but go angry
that I couldn't cry. I wanted to hear that bitch wail. I wanted to hear her husband wail too.” She glanced
at him, but quickly put her focus back to her ice cream. “Do you ever feel that?”

“I have.” He said it so flippantly. It was like he thought this was the most juvenile conversation
ever, and he was merely humoring her. He was still smiling too.

Lydia didn't have the energy to argue with him about his attitude. “I guess … I guess for you
it's amplified, because … well … you can actually understand what it's like to be … to be that kind
of victim.” She bit into her ice cream. “Hey, what happened to that family?”

“I will not tell you.” He gave her a quick kiss, and then he stole a lick of her ice cream.

Her eyebrow quirked. “Do I want to know?”

“No.” He winked at her. “The girl is safe. She will be taken to a new home.”

“Okay, I believe you.” She would have taken another bite of her ice cream, but Vlad snatched it
from her and pushed it on top of her head, pretty much giving her an interesting cone hat.
 It was fucking cold. Lydia's nostrils flared. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

He had on one of his wicked grins. “Ești încântătoare atunci când ești furios.” You're delightful
when you're angry.

He certainly received much delight. Lydia chased him around the room with a dildo (and yes,
there were dildos in Vlad's bedroom), trying to whack him in the head with it, and hoping that his son
would hear the noise and investigate. That would've been funny as hell, seeing Mihai's confused face as he
saw his father being smacked in the head with a dildo. Unfortunately for her, Mihai was out. Prudence
was around, though. She investigated, saw what was going on, and laughed her cute little head off.

When Lydia was tired, she gave up and tossed the dildo over her shoulder. She washed up and
then went back to bed, with a laughing Vlad following her.

He laid himself down beside her, cuddled up to her too. Lydia told him, “I think I understand why
you did those things.”

“Hmmmm . .” Vlad was sniffing her still damp hair. “Remember, I was also following orders, given
to me by the only one who has authority over me.”

“I don't wanna talk about it, okay? I wanna forget about it.”

“Asta e bine.” That's fine.

She nodded, even though she didn't need to. Then she mumbled, “I wish it was always that easy to
notice a kid being abused.”

***

A prince with green skin rested very well in his charming little royal bedroom. He was actually
very peaceful. Moonlight brightened his room. Then dark clouds slowly appeared, as if something was
squeezing them out from the ceiling. There was lightning.

Startled, he awakened.
 “What? I wasn't having a nightmare! Not even a sad dream!”

Yet, it rained. Normally that only happened when he had more negative emotions in his heart.

***

Chapter 40
Chapter 40

Little Bits of Randomness

Charles Deetz was eating lunch with his wife Delia in the living room of their home, watching
news on their television, when they heard the strangest bit of information.

In Taiwan, people were reporting that the sky went pure white, but only for a minute. The
whiteness faded away, and the sky alternated between chartreuse, royal purple, cherry blossom pink, and
finally, pantone orange, until it went back to a normal color. This all happened within three minutes.
Scientists suggested some sort of gas leak, and an investigation was happening. The photographs of the
sky, and the videos, were both beautiful and disturbing.

The couple also learned that something bizarre happened in Saudi Arabia. A member of the
Committee for the Defense of Human Rights in the Arabian Peninsula was doing nothing horrible at all
when this thing happened. He was sleeping. For some weird reason, his skin turned an olive color, with
weird stripes like a tiger's, only the stripes were a yellow color. The man went to several doctors, and
there was no satisfactory explanation for the strange pigmentation. The coloring disappeared, bit by bit,
and eventually disappeared in a few days.

This was freaking weird.

***
 It was snowing. The grass was still visible, but the snow was certainly making its mark. It was a
lovely Sunday morning, terribly cold, but lovely. The sky was so pale, and everything looked brighter
against it.

Lydia was walking around the now dead garden in the large backyard of the mansion. She was
holding an umbrella, a pretty umbrella that had been designed by a French person. It was a soft purple
color with maybe a gray tinge, and there was a wide border of white lace with a flowery design. It
wasn't actual lace. It was painted onto the tough fabric of the unbrella. Sometimes Lydia thought it
looked real.

Her long and fitted black coat was warm, and the lining was soft. Her dark red pants felt just
snug enough. Her black boots had faux fur inside them. She felt like her feet were cuddling with
something. The snow made typical crunchy sounds as she walked. It was otherwise pretty quiet.

It was a cliche thing to do, but she held out her gloved hand to catch the snow.

Prudence was gone again. Brunhilde had her taken away.

Again.

Prudence didn't talk about what had been going on. Lydia had never asked her. She asked Mihai
instead. Mihai told her, “Brunhilde is trying to desensitize her to violence.” He didn't tell her anything
else.

Lydia really hoped this … this process … didn't involve injuring Prudence.

“Bună ziua!” That was a way of greeting someone, like, “Good Morning,” “Good Afternoon,” or even
“How are you?”

She turned her head and noticed Vlad walking up to her. “Nu ar trebui sa dormi?” Shouldn't you
be sleeping?

He walked up beside her. He was wearing a bathrobe and pajama pants, with bedroom slippers.
“Vreau o petrecere de Crăciun. Ce părere ai de asta?” I want a Christmas party. What do you think of
that?
 “Nu e Crăciunul încă,” was her response to that. It's not Christmas yet.

Vlad brushed a bit of snow off of her fancy umbrella, not seeming to care that his hand was bare.
“Un partid trebuie să fie planificate, nu? Am avut un vis frumos despre Crăciun. Vreau lumini, copaci, și
cadouri.” A party must be planned, no? I had a beautiful dream about Christmas. I want lights, trees, and
presents.

Lydia shrugged. “Your money, Dude. Do what you want.”

He kissed her cheek, and then he excused himself.

***

“Why the fuck is it snowing at my house?!”

Beetlejuice was completely uncertain as to what to do.

It wasn't even chilly outside. Nobody else experienced snowy weather. Yet, on all the land
Beetlejuice owned, it snowed.

He was just outside his front yard, under very pleasant sunlight, watching a cloud over his home
drop snow. It had been there for a good ten minutes.

His neighbors didn't even bother to ask what was going on. They assumed it was something
Beetlejuice had done. He had a habit of causing supernatural trouble.

But … he knew he hadn't done shit.

And then it just stopped. The cloud evaporated. The snow did so too. It looked like it had never
snowed at all.

Just … what the ever loving fuck?

 ***

Cea mai frumoasă femeie din lume. The most beautiful woman in the world.

That's what Vlad believed he was looking at that night.

Her body on his bed, her limbs were spread out, her back arching. His fingers were inside her,
pressing against a hidden little spot. How delightful her whines were … and the way her muscles
pulsed around his fingers … minunat. Lovely.

He bent over her, licked her nipple and sucked on it, felt her body's trembles.

Vlad's bare back had a shivery feeling in it, as if someone was stroking the center with a piece of
ice.

She had obviously changed her mind about him, again.

“Am nevoie de el!” I need it! “Please!”

So, he removed his fingers and laid down on his back. He guided her onto him. When she pressed
her vagina over his penis, he thought he just might purr like a cat. When she moved her hips back and
forth, grinding, he tried not to pierce the flesh of her hips with his fingernails.

Strâns, atât de strâns, aproape dureros. Tight, so tight, almost painful.

“Vlad! I … I, I, I, aaaaiiiiii ...”

She wasn't really thinking about what she was saying. Something about that was delightful.

She was so tight. He was starting to lose grip on reality. He didn't even remember what her name
was anymore. He tried not to move his hips upwards. That would ruin the timing.
 “E . .”

“Yes!” Lydia was moving faster, putting her palms on his chest.

He gasped at his realization. He almost said her name.

He almost said the name of Mihnea's mother.

“Vlad! I can't … I can't! Ooooooooh . .”

“Aaaaaah . .” Vlad reached up to her breasts; he kneaded them, feeling himself tighten up.

“Fucking … aahhhhhhhhhhhhh!” She moved so irregularly then, panting, sounding high pitched.
Her inner muscles pulsed around him at such a fantastic pace!

Ce este că mirosul oribil? What is that horrible stench?

It was like … old gym clothes … something dead … and something else.

Well, that killed the erection.

“Vlad?” She was a little dazed, and certainly confused. “Hmmm?” Then she made a sniffing sound.
“Oh . .”

Lydia slid off of him and turned on a lamp.

Standing in a corner of the bedroom, with broad eyes and a dropped jaw, looking as disheveled as
ever, was Beetlejuice.

***
Chapter 41
Chapter 41

What the fuck?

“No … seriously, what the fuck?”

That was what Lydia said as she yanked a blanket to her body and stared at the demon.
“What the fuck!”
Vlad put a pillow to his crotch. His face took on a blankness as he stared at Beetlejuice, a strange and
emotionless image.
The dirty man who stood in the corner said very softly. “That's what I'm thinking, what the fuck.”
Lydia's face was hot. She felt like she had a brother and that brother had been severely invading her
privacy. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”
“I . .” He held up his blood stained hands. “I have no idea. I was home … now I'm here.”
Lydia put her fingers to her brow. “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice.” She shook her head and purposely
said his name in a tone that reminded one of a tired mother, a mother who was very disappointed. She
was hoping Vlad wouldn't assume she wasn't making him go away with the special use of his name.
The demon shrugged, and in a puff of smoke, he disappeared, but not before saying, “Nice tits.”
Vlad spoke then, very calmly. “That was the demon Brunhilde told me about. Am I correct?”
“Uuuuuuuuuuuugghnnnnnn . .” Tightly, Lydia shut her eyes, and she rubbed her temples. There was
absolutely no reason for Beetlejuice to be there. Nobody called him.
Vlad stood up and walked over to a window. “De ce se put mai rău decât un câmp de luptă folosit?” Why
does he stink worse than a used battlefield? He opened the window, obviously wanting the smell to go
away.
In reality, it wasn't that bad, or it didn't seem bad to Lydia; she was used to it. Then again, Vlad's nose
was sensitive.
“El nu are baie,” she explained. He doesn't bathe.
“Asta e urât!” Vlad yelled out, startling Lydia. That's nasty!
***
She decided to make a snowman. She was in class when she decided to do it.
Lydia drove home quickly. She didn't want to miss any daylight. Her stepmother greeted her. Lydia
scarfed down a quick lunch, dressed appropriately, and hurried outside.
It took some time, but she made a snowman, a little snowman. She gave it an old fedora hat of hers, and
made his eyes out of little rocks. She made a curving line of rocks to represent its mouth.
And then, all the rocks fell out at once. Lydia looked down, and she didn't see humble and ordinary rocks
anymore. She saw different rocks. They were pieces of uncut emerald.
“Uhm … what?” She crouched down to scoop them all up into her hands. They were silly gray and brown
rocks, weren't they? She found them on the ground. There was no reason for emeralds, cut or uncut, to be
anywhere near the ground. Did Delia own a piece of jewelry made of uncut emeralds? Lydia had heard of
women wearing uncut diamonds, why not emeralds? Did the stones fall off or something?
“Delia!” She ran into the house to explain that something impossible happened.
But, Delia had something equally impossible to say, and to display. The newest clay statue she had been
making had somehow turned to pure ice when she wasn't looking. Lydia saw it, touched it, and she knew
that her step-mother used clay and didn't even know how to use ice in this context.
Just … just what the fuck?
Later that day, Lydia read in an article about a couple in South Korea that had been scared shitless.
Why? Well, their little baby literally floated six inches up in the air, before their eyes, for ten seconds,
and then fell back into its crib. The baby was not injured, but fuck that was scary.
Lydia knew supernatural things happen in this universe. She knew all too well.
So, that night, she paid the Neitherworld a visit.
She was at the entrance to the sad looking royal castle, demanding to see Prince Vince. Since she was
known for being a friend of his, she was allowed inside with no struggle. Lydia saw a guard's weapon turn
into a very long loaf of baguette bread in the blink of an eye.
Shit was going down.
Lydia ran to the throne room, and there the prince was in his seat, looking pretty damn confused too. He
didn't let her speak before him. “Where is Beetlejuice?”
“What? I haven't seen him today.” She stood before him, her legs spread a bit, her fingers twitching. “Has
he been pulling crazy shit? Weird ass, impossible … shit has been going down on Earth!” She shook her
head a second; she was still confused as hell. “I see some shit's going on here too!” Right after she said
that, Prince Vince's cute little crown danced on top of his head, as if a puppeteer was pulling it with a
string. Then it stopped.
Lydia threw her hands into the air. “Oh my GAWD! Is he bitching?” Her voice grew shrill. “I haven't
played around with him in a while. Is that why he's bitching? FUCK!” She stomped her foot onto the
pretty red rug that adorned the floor so well. “He's juicing both worlds, and it's fucked up! Someone's
gonna get killed! A baby was levitated, for Christ's sake!”
“Lydia!” Prince Vince left his throne and went to her. He put her hands in his and looked down at her
with very concerned dark eyes. “Listen to me, I beg of you. Beetlejuice is missing.”
She blinked at him. Then hesitated. “Missing?”
“The Queen of the Vampires must have noticed this too.” Prince Vince put his long fingers on Lydia's
shoulders. “Listen to me. Pay very close attention, Lydia. I had no inkling at all that your world was
suffering from this … this juice as well. This means that something dangerous is happening. This seems
harmless for now, but this could grow into extreme chaos, godly chaos.”
“Godly?” She narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“I said listen!” He shook her a little bit. “This could be Beetlejuice, or this could be something more
horrifying. You need to get to Brunhilde. Tell her this is happening in the Neitherworld too. Tell her
Beetlejuice is missing, and follow her until she confirms that this problem is fixed. She won't stop you.
Trust me. Do you understand?”
“I … I have to follow her?”
“YES!” He shook her again. “Go, go now!”
He shoved her back a little. Lydia tripped as she turned around to run. When she got back up, her hands
were shaking.
***
She texted Vlad before she drove to his house. “Emergency. Need Brunhilde.”
He responded with, “Meet us in the warehouse.” He texted the address to her, just in case she forgot. It
was the place where those special hearings had been held. Vlad and Brunhilde met her at the entrance.
Brunhilde took charge immediately, which was expected. She had a backpack on, and Lydia really didn't
know why.
“Now, Lydia, Vlad,” Brunhilde said to them, pointing at them with her finger. “This is fucking important.
Lydia!” She pointed back at her. “I assume this is all because of the random shit that's been going on.”
“Yes!” Lydia even nodded.
“And this has been happening in the Neitherworld too?”
“Yes!” Lydia was actually feeling hopeful. She might not like Brunhilde, but at least the crazy bitch
seemed to care about what the fuck was going on.
Vlad tilted his head. “Neitherworld?”
With a slight annoyance quickening her words, Brunhilde told him, “It's where that demon is from. I'm
not gonna explain everything, not allowed to.” She turned back to Lydia. “We're going to the Between
World, understand?”
“Why?” Lydia didn't quite understand.
“It's the only place Beetlejuice could be. He's not on Earth. He's not in the Neitherworld.”
“Heaven? Hell?” Vlad was trying to be helpful, and normally he could be an excellent help.
Brunhilde exhaled very slowly, as if losing her patience. “I'm not even gonna tell you if those places exist
or not.”
She was the only person Lydia knew that could make Vlad look like an idiot, even when Vlad wasn't
acting like an idiot.
“Now Lydia, you've been there many times, especially as a cute little girl, eh?” It was fairly dark, and
there was only a street light giving off any illumination. So, Lydia wasn't sure if she was smiling or not.
“You know what it's like in that little space. It might have changed. Beetlejuice is stuck in there. We have
to get him out.”
“What can I do?”
“What can she do?” Vlad leaned in a bit closer.
Brunhilde adjusted the weight of the backpack she bore. “There is a possibility that Beetlejuice is having
some problem. Perhaps he's in some sort of shock. Otherwise, he could simply leave the Between World
and go to the Neitherworld. You're his little special person, Lydia, even though you haven't enjoyed his
company in quite a while. I've personally called him, 5 times. He didn't come.”
Lydia knew that blood was leaving her face at the idea. “He always comes. You just have to call him.”
“He didn't come, Lydia.”
“How does one call this Beetlejuice?” asked Vlad very innocently.
“We're not telling you!” Lydia and Brunhilde shouted that simultaneously. Then, Lydia looked at
Brunhilde, shocked. Brunhilde just opened the door to the warehouse.
“You might have to talk to Beetlejuice, Lydia,” she said as she held the door open. They all walked inside.
Brunhilde flipped a few switches. A few bare light bulbs hanging from the ceiling lit up; the light was
very yellow, as expected. Vlad pulled three folding chairs from a corner and set them up. Apparently he
assumed this would take a long time.
“Vlad,” Lydia said, “It doesn't take long to open a door to another world.”
He shot her a clear, “I am not amused,” look, his eyes narrowing and his lips thinning. Then he sat down.
He probably didn't like that Brunhilde was being so condescending with him in front of Lydia, or maybe he
didn't like that Lydia knew a bit more about the universe than he did.
Brunhilde put her backpack on the floor. It made a THUD sound. She unzipped it and pulled out a long
beach towel. She then pulled out objects and laid them on the towel.
“Uhm … Brunhilde?” Lydia stood behind her. “What are you doing?” She saw that Brunhilde had pulled
out a long and smooth knife and a rib spreader. “Woah!” Lydia backed up. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I won't do shit with Beetlejuice until I've got some insurance,” Brunhilde said.
***

Chapter 42
Chapter 42
Trust

Author's Note: I am not in the medical profession, but I would like to note that a nonhuman with
impossible anatomy and abilities probably wouldn't use medical devices the same way humans would.
However, I do apologize for any impracticality or stupidity I accidentally make with this very gory
event which will happen in this chapter. Yes, there will be gore.
Insurance?

What?
Brunhilde was wearing a long sleeved flannel shirt, with buttons in the front. Very casually she
unbuttoned the shirt.
“Vlad? What is she doing?”
“I am not certain.” He leaned back somewhat in his seat. “Perhaps you should sit down, Lydia?”
Lydia thought being next to Vlad was probably better than being behind Brunhilde. So, she sat down in the
chair next to Vlad.
With a relaxed face, eyes almost closed, Brunhilde knelt on the bare wooden floor. Her legs' shield was
merely worn looking jeans. She pulled her flannel shirt off and folded it with the precision of a devoted
spouse trying to please an anal partner. Then she put it inside her backpack.
When Brunhilde picked up her long knife, Lydia half expected her to leap at one of them, or maybe stab
the floor for some sort of ritual.
She didn't.
She stabbed herself, only slightly, holding the handle with her fist at an angle, cutting a diagonal line
from under her chest to her collar bone.
Brunhilde didn't make any vocal sounds. Her calm visage did not change.
Lydia grabbed Vlad's shoulder; she needed something to squeeze, something strong and reassuring. “What
is she doing?!”
Brunhilde put the knife back down on the towel, beside the rib spreader.
Then, with her own bare hands, she reached inside, her fingers piercing her muscles and making jerky
movements, and she then pulled out … pieces of bone … she had broken her own bones … and she
didn't even make a single noise or complaint. Brunhilde's pretty lips even twitched at the corners, as if
she actually wanted to smile.
She took her rib spreader, and she put it into her cavity in her chest … and she opened herself up. She
seemed to be using it to spread flesh instead of ribs.
Lydia gawked at the woman. She couldn't figure out what to say. She looked at Vlad. Vlad's eyes were a
little wide, but he didn't seem too perturbed.
It was at that moment when Lydia assumed Brunhilde was not only inhuman, but also not even a damn
vampire. Absolutely no blood was coming out of her. She could see it. It was there. It didn't ooze out.
There was some blood on the knife.
There was a heart, a human looking heart, but … something about it wasn't human.
It was beating, throbbing, doing what hearts do.
It was black.
As if she wasn't really doing anything horrifying, Brunhilde got her knife again, and she cut her whole
heart out of herself, and there was no blood at all coming out … no … blood … but there was
obviously blood there. She didn't seem to need to break her breast bone, or maybe she already did and
Lydia just didn't notice.
With one hand, she held her remarkable black beating heart and the handle of her knife. With the other
hand, she put the rib spreader back on the towel and then searched her backpack. She pulled out a plastic
container. Brunhilde put the heart into the container and then snapped on a lid. Then, she picked up her
rib bones. And she just … stuck them back in there … it was like they never broke at all.
Brunhilde closed her flesh together and slid her palm up against the wound … and it just …
disappeared. There was no cut at all.
Brunhilde wiped her hands on the towel on the floor, and then she stood up with the container in her
hands. She walked over to Vlad and put it in his lap.
He stared up at her.
She smiled down at him.
“If this heart stops beating while I'm gone, eat it, all of it.” Brunhilde spoke like she was gently talking a
child into eating vegetables.
Lydia felt a little vomit in her throat; she gulped it down. “I … I am not even going to pretend I know
what's going on.”
Vlad was calm. His eyelid was twitching a teeny bit, but otherwise he was calm.
“It will be a tough thing to chew,” Brunhilde warned, still smiling. Then she turned her back on him and
walked to a random spot in the warehouse where there was plenty of floor to work with. She pulled a
large piece of white sidewalk chalk from a pocket. She drew a large door on the wooden floor, complete
with a round doorknob. Then she tapped her foot onto the center of the door three times and backed
away.
For thirty seconds, there was nothing.
Then, the floor creaked and snapped, and opened up in the shape of the drawn door. Green light came from
the entrance.
Vlad gasped. “Uimitor!” Amazing!
“You're not coming, Vlad,” Brunhilde reminded him. “Just stay here and monitor the heart.” She nodded at
Lydia. “Come on, Mausi.” That was German for, “Little Mouse,” and it was meant to be an affectionate term.
Brunhilde walked down the entrance. Apparently there were stairs.
Lydia followed her, saying, “Don't you want to put on your shirt?” Brunhilde didn't answer that, and she
might not have cared. The two women left Vlad, and then the door slowly lowered and sealed itself up.
The Between World was bright and full of different colors; it was difficult to tell where the floor ended
and the air began, because it looked almost exactly the same. It seemed to have a natural light about it,
so no lamps were required. Far off, there was a door that led to the Neitherworld, but that was not their
destination. Even farther off, there was a strange floating orb.
Arranging her hair into a braid, Brunhilde starting walking towards the orb. “Gotta be him!”
Lydia walked up to her and asked, “Why don't we run? This is urgent.”
“I'm saving my strength, Mausi.” She smiled.
Lydia felt uncomfortable hearing that. Brunhilde had always seemed to be impossibly powerful, and to
hear her say that, even with such an unconcerned voice … it was like … learning that God is
powerless. The concept is terrifying and disappointing all at once. She shivered and swallowed extra
saliva.
So, they walked.
“Hey, Brunhilde, are you a vampire?”
“Nope.”
“Oh.” Lydia looked straight ahead. “Why are you the Queen of the Vampires?”
She heard Brunhilde chortle. “I made the vampires.”
“How did you do that?”
“It's not a story filled with unicorns pooping marshmallows.”
Lydia shrugged. “Can you tell me anyway?”
“I refuse, and we don't have time to talk of blood and fangs and births.”
“Give me a hint about how you did it.”
Brunhilde gave her a quick yet blank stare, and then she looked ahead again. “My birth was a covenant.”
“You were born?!” Does that mean someone is or was her mother?
“I'm not going to tell you anymore shit, so stop talking about it.”
Lydia shut up about it then.
And, finally, they reached the orb. It was the size of an average man's bowling ball, metallic and silver
colored, floating a few feet above the two women. They stared up at it.
Brunhilde grunted and jumped upwards, gripping the ball with her hands, dangling. Lydia looked at her
bare back. “What are you doing?”
The Queen of Vampires replied, “I'm trying to pull Beetlejuice out of this prison.”
“That's a prison?” Lydia tilted her head. It looked like a weird toy or something like that. “How do you
know he's in there?”
“Well … Lydia,” Brunhilde said softly, her body looking sort of stiff, “I don't exactly have proof of it. I
just got a major hunch.”
“You don't even fucking know?!”
“It's pure logic, really.” Brunhilde rotated one of her ankles. “He's not in the Neitherworld. He's not on
Earth. He could only be here, and this orb is more suspicious than certain Mormon prophets.”
“What if he's not in there?!” Lydia put her hands on her hips.
“Well, if he's not in there, then he's probably dead.”
“Can he even die?”
Brunhilde pulled herself a little, and then she returned to her stretched hanging position. “Yep! Hey, do
us a grand favor! Talk to him!”
Lydia's eyes squinted. “You want me to talk to the magic floating ball? He might not even be in there.”
“It can't possibly damage anything if you talk to the stupid fucking ball!” Brunhilde raised her voice, and
Lydia was startled. “I know you can't see, but I'm doing some serious fucking magic up in this bitch! It's
really making me tired, and if you don't make with the chit chat, I'll become rather useless!”
Perfectly chastised, Lydia blushed and started talking, “B.J., you in there? Hey, come on out!” She put her
hands to her cheeks, palms outwards, trying to get her voice to the orb. Quit farting around!”
Brunhilde pulled a hand up a little on the orb. “Adequate, Lydia, very adequate, now keep talking, I think
I sense him!”
A tickling excitement put more earnest feelings into Lydia's voice, and she smiled a bit. “Beetlejuice! Hey,
Beetlejuice! It's Lydia! You know my voice! Get out of there!”
***
Vlad was simply sitting, waiting, looking inside the clear plastic container, making sure the black heart
inside was still beating. The two women had been gone for a few minutes, and he was starting to wonder
if they needed help. Letting women do all the dangerous work just wasn't in his nature … well except
for Brunhilde. Brunhilde was barely a woman. Back to the point, Vlad was old fashioned in that way. He
had learned over time that women aren't superior to men, and that women aren't inferior. She learned
that women can be just as strong as some men and men can be just as weak as some women, in other words,
none was weaker and none was stronger.
But … damn it … he was raised to be chivalrous towards ladies and women in general. Lydia was in
there, doing who knows what. Despite common sense, Vlad associated women with comfort, peace,
sweetness, love, and an escape from the horrors of the world. They were … well … were once
considered to be … the fairer sex. So, whenever he met a woman who was unnecessarily cruel towards
the innocent, it always touched a nerve. Whenever he met a woman who was genuinely kind and sweet,
he just felt … safe and playful. It was odd. He had always assumed it was because he had such a doting
mother … and when the Turks had him … that's who he would think of for comfort.
He was so distracted by his own thoughts that he was caught by surprise when someone sunk a knife into
a side of his throat.
Enraged, Vlad sprang from his seat, the plastic container falling to the floor. He found himself fighting
off a group of vampires, and one of them stole the container and ran away. At that point, Vlad fled
outside, running after the thief. Two vampires caught him and he was fighting again.
He caught glimpses, far off, of the thief opening the container, taking a lighter, and setting the black
heart on fire, then dropping the heart onto a snow dusted sidewalk.
As if it was a delicate little scrap of paper, the black heart turned to ash almost immediately, and the
flames disappeared.
He couldn't believe it.
L-au ucis doar regina de vampiri?
Did they just kill the queen of vampires?
That thought was interrupted by another blade swinging into his throat, right where he had been
stabbed.
***
Brunhilde released a wail … a wail that echoed all around … a wail that sounded like a lion and an
elephant having weird sex.
Lydia covered her ears, and then she walked forward, then turned around, to see Brunhilde's face.
It wasn't Brunhilde's perfect doll-like face.
It was pure black, from her hairline to just under her jawline.
Her nose was nothing more than reptilian-like slits. Her mouth was a stretched out thing, grinning, with
amazingly long ivory colored teeth, a freakish amount of them.
Those eyes … those eyes were large almond shaped things, pure red, with tiny white irises and black
pupils, unblinking.
“What … ?” Lydia backed away a bit.
Brunhilde's fingers loosened, and she fell down to the colorful floor with a thud, collapsed as if dead. She
looked like a dropped marionette.
Did something happen … did she use up all of her strength? Did Vlad eat her heart?
And Lydia just knew … she knew that if Brunhilde was really dead … that meant … that meant
she couldn't get Beetlejuice out … and that meant …
Everyone was going to live in a new Hell.
Lydia's hands went to her mouth, and she fell to her knees. “Oh … my … God … oh … my …
fuck.” She coughed up a sob. Then tears leaked out. She lowered her head.
Then she heard a squeaky voice, not unlike a stereotypical Japanese school girl's voice.
“Give me blood.”
Lydia's head snapped up, and she saw Brunhilde, with her black demonic face, scurrying, crawling towards
her with fingers that were way too long to be real. Her wide grin started snapping like a turtle's mouth.
And then the demon was on her, pushed her into the ground.
Her long teeth sunk into Lydia's throat.
Lydia could never remember experiencing such pain before in her life.
She screamed, cried. She wet herself. She tried to fight the demon off of her. It felt like her head was
slowly being torn off of her. She wanted to die, just to make it stop. She was already tired and a little
nauseated. Her heart was going nuts, beating at a rapid level.
The tears made her vision blurry, but she did see Brunhilde move away and look at her face. Brunhilde
seemed to be normal looking again. There wasn't a hint of anything unusual about her except for blood on
her mouth. Brunhilde put her own wrist to her mouth. Lydia couldn't see exactly what she was doing, but
she assumed it involved teeth.
Brunhilde held her wrist over Lydia's throat, and blood dripped down onto Lydia's wound.
“Lydia's hurt!” Brunhilde shouted, still looking at Lydia. “Come out, Beetlejuice! Come and protect her!”
The orb seemed to listen, because it shot at Brunhilde. Brunhilde caught it with her free hand. Then, she
broke it like it was a hollow piece of glass. The shards fell down and made clinking sounds.
Smoke appeared from nowhere, it seemed. Lydia's vision worsened. Her throat was burning. She
whimpered and begged Brunhilde to kill her. Brunhilde responded by pushing her bitten wrist directly
onto Lydia's wound.
The familiar scent of overall nastiness and a lack of bathing appeared.
Beetlejuice was here. He was beside her. She saw his blurred outline through the tears and smoke. He
didn't seem to be moving.
Brunhilde spoke in a kind and nurturing tone. “I'm healing her, Beetlejuice. She'll be fine. You don't have
much juice left in you; you know. Send yourself home. You can rest there. Take the juice you have left, and
go on home. I'll take care of her. I'll explain how she got hurt later. Come on, Beetle. Time to go home.”
He either trusted Brunhilde enough, or he was too tired to argue, either way, he faded into the smoke
and disappeared.
“Can you hear me, Lydia?”
“Ye … ye ...”
“That's fine, Darling. Right as potatoes in a pot. Don't try to speak anymore.” She sounded sort of like she
wanted to provide some comfort. “You saved my life; you should know.” Brunhilde lightly stroked Lydia's
face, brushing away some hair. “Don't tell anyone about it; if you do, worse things could happen.”
Lydia tried to let her know she understood, tried to nod, but Brunhilde wouldn't allow the movement.
“Don't move your neck. You're healing up, but I don't know how much blood I took from you, and I don't
know ho much you need. I was a feral thing, desperate for survival. You were there. You were right there
for my teeth. I'll tell you right now, someone burned my heart. It's not fond of fire, tends to react sadly
to it. No frets or concerns, ā nān.” (阿囡) That last word was a Chinese term of endearment often
used for little girls, like saying Honey. “I'm fine, and you'll be the same, fine as fine can be.”
So … Brunhilde didn't want to hurt her … but … she had to.
Did Vlad burn her heart? Why would he do that?
“Your wound is gone, but you did lose a lot of blood. Give me your ankles now.” And she lifted Lydia's legs
up for a few moments. “I'm going to take you to Prince Vince. He'll look after you. I need to find out why
my heart was burned. There might be some dangerous shit out there.”
Then, Brunhilde put down Lydia's ankles and picked her up like a groom carrying a bride over a threshold.
She moved quickly; air felt like it was rushing against Lydia. All sorts of different things flashed by her,
and when everything finally stopped, she was inside Prince Vince's castle. Brunhilde didn't explain why
Lydia had lost blood. She merely said that Lydia had lost blood and needed to be monitored until it was
safe for Brunhilde to come and get her. Prince Vince gladly had Lydia taken to a lovely spare bedroom,
and had her fed healthy and yummy food.
***
The wooden door in the floor of the warehouse opened up again, and Brunhilde emerged. It closed behind
her as she looked about. Vlad wasn't inside. There was blood, especially on the chair he had sat in.
There were sounds of a major fight going on outside, growling and screaming and whatnot. So, Brunhilde
went outside.
A large group of vampires were ganging up on Vlad. Now, Vlad was a tough cookie. So, he fought pretty
well, considering he was severely outnumbered … and he looked heavily wounded. There was a wound
in his neck. It looked like someone tried to decapitate him, but he was able to move away before the blade
went in too deeply. He was also pretty bruised up and seemed to have other wounds. Even if he
transformed into something that could easily escape, like a bunch of mice or a wolf, there was always the
chance that the other vampires knew how to do that too. Transformation would be a waste of strength.
Brunhilde was feeling pretty damn strong. So, she screamed out, “Whatcha bitches doin', EH?!”
“Shit!” One of then shouted. They realized who she was immediately, and they scattered, disappeared into
the snowy night. Vlad crouched down, pressing his hand to his throat and shivering, but probably not
from the cold.
She went to him and helped him to his feet. “I'll get you straight again, Love. I've done it before. Don't
worry about Lydia now. I left her with a good friend. She's gonna be spoiled, but not as spoiled as when
she's all over your dick.”
***

Chapter 43

Chapter
43

Christmas

Lydia
was feeling much better and cleaner when Brunhilde came for her about
an hour later. She got to take a very nice bath and eat yummy stuff.
She asked Brunhilde what had happened, but Brunhilde told her it's
nothing she needed to explain, especially since she's not a vampire.
Lydia was imagining that there was some sort of vampire hunter out
there.

She
had sort of forgiven Brunhilde for biting her, sort of … since
it was so painful. Lydia didn't think holding a grudge against her
was wise. The woman was nightmare fuel on fire. She was also
wondering why Brunhilde didn't sell her magical healing blood on the
black markets. Maybe that stuff could cure cancer or AIDS. Lydia
didn't know if it could, but if it really was able to cure those
diseases, Brunhilde didn't need to be selfish about her blood.

So,
Lydia asked on the way back to Earth, “Can your blood cure any
diseases?”

Brunhilde
shrugged. “It can heal wounds and every blood type accepts it
in blood transfusions. However, unless you become a vampire, any
boosts to the immune system … or anything else … are
temporary. It doesn't exactly kill diseases. It can prevent them for
a time, like a vaccine that lasts only for a few days. Regular
vampire blood can prevent diseases too, but for maybe a day, and it
doesn't heal anywhere near as fast as mine. And nothing can stop the
common cold. That stuff's a bitch.”

“Why
don't you sell your blood, or maybe give it away?”

Brunhilde
stopped her, literally, gripped her shoulder and gave her a tender
smile. “If everyone in the world starting taking regular sips
of my blood, I wouldn't have any for myself. I wasn't made to save
the world from diseases.”
“Well
… what were you made for?”

Brunhilde
didn't answer, but she didn't lose her smile either.

***

Vlad
held her close for a good ten minutes when she was taken to him. He
seemed perfectly fine to Lydia, other than being a little shaky.
Brunhilde left them, saying, “We need to talk Vlad, but I think
you need to smooch her. I'll return in a bit.” Lydia didn't say
anything. She didn't think it would be right to say anything.

Once
he seemed satisfied with the hug, he asked her to come with him to
his bedroom. Lydia didn't want to stress him out. She didn't know
what had happened to him, if anything at all, but it must have been
something that really worried him.

He
didn't make love with her.
He
just laid down with her, held her close again, and took a nap.

When
he woke up, Lydia gently asked what happened.

“Someone
stole Brunhilde's heart and burned it,” he told her carefully
and quietly.

“Did
you get hurt?”

“Not
important.”

It
seemed pretty fucking important to her, but she let it go.

An
hour later, Brunhilde let herself into the house again. The night was
howling. Snow was falling, but the wind was blowing. Brunhilde
demanded a meeting in a drawing room. Vlad, Lydia, Mihai, and even
Prudence, gathered together in a drawing room, and Brunhilde took a
seat near a window. She was wearing an old hoodie and jeans, but her
feet were bare. She was so perky and cheerful that Lydia was a bit
disturbed.

“Well
Darlings,” Brunhilde said, looking at everyone with a sparkle
in her blue eyes, “Looks like I have another rebellion to deal
with.”

Another?
Lydia asked, “What do you mean, another?”

Without
missing a beat, Brunhilde said, “I've had a little rebellion
once before, it was very bloody. I killed a lot of my babies.”

“What
will you do this time?” Mihai asked with a pretty bored voice.
He really didn't seem alarmed.

“Kill
more babies, of course!” Brunhilde winked at him. “They
figured out they needed to burn my heart, didn't work, though. I grew
a new one.”
Prudence
tilted her head. “You did what?”

Brunhilde
shrugged. “I grew another one, simple as that. Didn't take
long, a few moments, in reality. Now, now, don't look at me like I've
lost all sense. I once lost my head. I just put it back on myself.
This sort of thing isn't new to me.”

There
was a silence as they stared at her. Vlad shook his head a bit, like
he had felt a weird shiver in his body.

“I
know you guys know not to tell anyone about our little meeting,”
Brunhilde said with a light giggle. “So, I feel safe telling
you this: don't act as if there was a rebellion. Simply go on with
your lives and pretend it never happened.”

“It's
her problem to handle,” Mihai said in what was probably a short
explanation of what Brunhilde just said. “She is the expert.”

“Okay!”
Brunhilde clapped her hands together. “Everybody except Vlad,
leave. Now. And don't even consider eavesdropping, alright?”
The three people complied, and once the door was closed, Brunhilde
walked over to Vlad and stood over him. She bent down a little and
said, “You're gonna have to tell me about your attackers, you
know.

***

On
Christmas Eve, Mihai and Vlad threw a Christmas party.

There
were beautiful decorations, holly, poinsettias, stockings, candles,
bells, candy canes, etc. There were several lit up Christmas trees
made of plastic, but the largest was in the foyer. It was tall, wide,
and bright, covered in strings of lights and popcorn. Each piece of
popcorn had been covered in a liquid candy, and so the now dry glazes
provided more than a rainbow's worth of colors. The very impressive
part of the display was the amount of wrapped presents under the
tree. Lydia knew that ninety-nine percent of those gifts were for
either Prudence of herself. The two women did spend some of their
“allowances” to get gifts for their lovers, but the fact
that their lovers paid for the gifts kind of made Lydia feel a bit
useless.

There
was music, dancing, chatting, and delicious warm foods. Lydia had
made a few Pepperment-Hot Chocolate cakes after looking up the recipe
on the Internet. It was very popular. Her father, who was a more than
welcome guest, made a point of bragging to everyone about how
delicious the cake was and how wonderful Lydia was. Lydia didn't
really see how she could be wonderful. All she did was look up a
recipe and bake something.

Prudence
didn't talk to most people. She hadn't even invited her parents to
the party, and so they didn't show up. Lydia had never heard about
Prudence having family problems, but she didn't think it was her
business. She did notice that Prudence clung to Mihai almost like a
toddler to its parent.

There
was Claire and her parents too. Lydia didn't know that Vlad had
invited them. It really bothered her. She didn't want Claire to get
riled up. She did want to scold Vlad, but that wouldn't have been
wise. She did go to Vlad's side, give him a stern look, and tilt her
head in the Brewster family's general direction. Vlad merely tugged
at the long strand of Akoya white pearls that rested down her bare
back and winked at her. The reason why her back was bare was because
her long black evening dress was backless. The neckline was high,
though, and the sleeves were long and fitted. She didn't exactly feel
naked.

Vlad
decided to make her feel naked, though. He took her hand and gently
tugged her. Lydia was surprised, but she followed him. He took her
to, of all the places in the house, a large walk-in bedroom closet.

He
kissed her and tugged on her pearl necklace, turning it around and
wrapping it around his hand. Lydia made a little yelp, but she
allowed it. His hand yanked up her skirt, and she sighed.

***

Prudence
was resting her cheek on Mihai's side as he spoke to someone when she
noticed Claire Brewster walk towards the elaborately adorned
Christmas tree. Prudence was afraid that all the gifts would be
stolen or damaged or something like that, because sometimes people
are just spiteful. She kissed Mihai's cheek, and then walked over to
the direction of the Christmas tree, but kept a certain distance so
that Claire would not notice.

Sure
enough, Claire snatched up the smallest box; it was quite tiny. It
was for Lydia. Prudence didn't know what was inside, but she imagined
that it could have been jewelry. It didn't matter, though. Sand could
be in the box and this would still be rude. Claire slipped the box
into her purse. That was when Prudence stomped over to her and
screamed, “Put that box back!”
Well,
Claire ran. Prudence tried to catch up with her, but Claire was
lucky. She blended in with the crowd. The first thing Prudence did
was scream out, “Mihai!” and then she ran off to find
him.

***

Lydia
decided she liked this. She was laid down, basically, her arms on an
ottoman in the closet, her legs on the floor, her backside in the
air, skirt around her waist, and undies around her ankles.

As
he knelt, Vlad was being quite attentive, pushing his fingers in and
out of her, occasionally teasing her clitoris with another finger. He
kept stroking and teasing, and Lydia was cooing and whining.

“Da
. . te rog? Te rog?” Yes … please? Please? “Hnnm
… I want it.”

Vlad
kissed one of her backside's cheeks. “Ah, este adevărat?”
Ah, is that true?

“Pleeeeeeeease
… please please?” She released a long moan and trembled.

And,
quickly, he pants and underwear was down, and he had shoved his penis
into her vagina. He pulled on her long pearl necklace like a leash,
but only pulled enough to remind her that he had the strand.

Lydia
howled. She pushed her hips back into his thrusts. She really forgot
there was a party in the house. She just wanted him to keep this pace
up.

Just
…

Don't
…

Stop
…
O
invazie a salutat.

A
welcomed invasion.

Some
hair fell from her updo. She barely noticed.

Soon
the pressure was overwhelming her senses, and her face warmed. She
shrieked as if in a horrible state of agony, her fingers digging into
the ottoman. Vlad grunted and dug his fingers into her skin.

When
they were properly dressed again they exited the large closet and
then exited the bedroom. Prudence found them as they joined the
party; her brow was too furrowed for such a young person. “Claire
stole one of your presents,” she told Lydia. “Now I can't
find her. Her parents don't know where she is either.”

The
first thing Lydia said was, “Vlad, if you put that video on the
Internet, I won't respect you anymore.”
Vlad
leaned into her, kissed her ear, and whispered, “Lasă-mă
să văd sânge pe ea?” Let me see her blood?

Lydia
stomped on his foot, but he ignored it. “Brunhilde nu ar
place,” Lydia said to him. Brunhilde wouldn't like it.

He
turned back to Prudence. “Which present did she steal?”

“The
smallest one,” answered Prudence.

“She
is an idiot, a spiteful idiot,” Vlad said, looking back at
Lydia and smiling. “A kneaded eraser is in that box.”

Lydia
blinked up at him. “Wow, that's a cheapie, coming from you.”

He
shrugged. “I thought you would like a small and inexpensive
gift.”

“Well,
they are fun to play with,” Lydia said with a tiny smile
forming on her face. “Are you gonna freak out over this?”

“Only
slightly,” Vlad told her.

***

Chapter 44
Chapter 44
Playing Around

Mihai left the party for a bit to go to a bathroom, but he was surprised to find a serene looking Brunhilde
holding a quiet and frightened looking woman up on a wall by her throat. Then, Brunhilde dragged the
woman out of the room and down an empty hallway.

Odd.
Mihai assumed Brunhilde was doing some investigating … or maybe that particular victim just pissed
Brunhilde off.
When Mihai was finished with his bathroom business, he went to find Prudence, but for some reason he
couldn't. He went to his father and asked him, “L-ai văzut pe Prudence?” Have you seen Prudence?
Vlad was stroking Lydia's hand and whispering things to her when Mihai interrupted him. He gave his son
a short nod. “Am vorbit cu ea câteva momente în urmă. Am văzut B. prea.” We spoke to her a few
moments ago. I saw B. too.
“Am văzut curva trage cineva de o baie,” Mihai informed. I saw the bitch drag someone out of a
bathroom.
“Okay, what?” Lydia gave both men curious looks. “Is Brunhilde doing something in this house?”
They didn't answer her. Vlad just spoke to Mihai concerning this issue. “Textul ei, idiotule!” Text her, idiot!
He went back to whispering things to Lydia.
Mihai rolled his gray eyes and walked off, taking out his cell phone. He asked in a text, “Where are you?”
Prudence replied almost immediately. “B. Has me. Be back soon.”
Great, just what did that bitch want Prudence to do?
Mihai took a glass of eggnog and chugged it down. Then he sat down and ogled pretty men and women. He
felt pretty bored and slightly tense without the snuggly and cuddly Prudence rubbing her face on him.
***
“Come on, now, won't take much of your time,” Brunhilde told Prudence with a light and breathy voice.
They were in a darker part of the backyard, hidden by snow covered bushes and statues. A woman was
quiet, but shivering, her wrists and feet bound by chains, kneeling. Her head was up, neck straight, eyes
closed, tape on her mouth. She seemed to know exactly what was going to happen, and she seemed to know
that there was no way of escaping, and nobody would come for her. She seemed to accept it, even if she
probably wasn't happy.
“I … don't want to,” replied Prudence.
Prudence was the one holding the sword. She wasn't used to holding swords. Swords are heavy. Brunhilde
had her hand over Prudence's, prepared to help her.
“You are only hurting her, making her suffer through the wait,” Brunhilde said, leaning in to softly speak
into her ear. “You need to kill someone, Prudence, someone who deserves it.”
Shaking her head, feeling tears bloom, Prudence said, “I don't even know what she did.”
“But, I know, Sweetness. That's all you need to know.” Brunhilde lifted the sword with Prudence's hand.
“You will not be dismissed until her head falls.”
So, the blade licked the air, slicing through the victim's neck. The head fell down and made a soft noise
against the snow. There was certainly blood, but not much got onto the women. Still, there was some
blood.
They dropped the sword. Brunhilde patted Prudence's shoulder and told her to wash up and change into a
different dress. Then Brunhilde said, “I'll shovel away the bloody snow, no worries. Don't worry about the
corpse, either.”
Prudence bent over and vomited.
Brunhilde shook her head. “Another mess for me to clean up, just go.”
Prudence went to Mihai some time later, fresh and clean and wearing a new dress. She hugged him and
said she had spilled food onto her dress. Mihai whispered that he imagined there probably wasn't any food
on her dress.
***
Lydia decided that she needed to powder her nose, and so she went to a bathroom. Unlike Mihai, she didn't
encounter anything strange or violent or both, but before she could do any bathroom related activities,
Beetlejuice appeared in the mirror over the sink, his eyes halfway open and overall looking pretty tired.
“Heeeeeeey … Babe … what happened?”
“I was wondering when you'd wake up.” Lydia kissed her fingers and then tapped the mirror, right at
Beetlejuice's cheek. “Took you long enough.”
“What happened?” he repeated gently.
“Well, Neitherworld and Earth was randomly getting juiced. Weird shit was going down. Brunhilde and I
both tried calling you, and you wouldn't come. Brunhilde figured out you were trapped in the Between
World. You were in a weird ball thing.”
“That doesn't make sense,” Beetlejuice fairly mumbled. He yawned.
“Well, it happened,” insisted Lydia, smiling at him. “I'm just glad everything's okay. I wish I knew why it
happened, but if you don't know, how can I?”
He trembled, but then he yawned again, making a little show of it with his long purple tongue. “I gotta
get some more sleep. I feel like … like someone tried to take all my juice.”
“So, you're a fruit?” She winked at him.
“Yeah … yeah. I'm a durian, and you're a peach.” He faded away then.
Lydia smiled again, feeling like a tiny bit of normalcy had returned to her. She thought that she might be
a peach, a split peach.
***
Vlad wanted to kiss her, a lot. He held her in a corner, near a small Christmas tree, and kissed her. Lydia
asked him to calm down; some people were watching. Vlad merely said, “Ei bine, ei vor urmări. Eu nu mi-e
rușine.” Well, they will watch. I'm not ashamed.
So, he kissed her so deeply that Lydia experienced a weird shivery sensation in her legs, as if they were
melting. She gripped his shoulders; his suit felt almost slick. She started clawing at him, and she wasn't
even sure why. One of Vlad's hands pressed into her bare back, while the other went to her throat, fingers
stretching over her cheek.
Hoping her parents weren't around to see, Lydia moaned, and she knew she was blushing. He just kept
kissing her.
Then, rather abruptly, he just stopped. He put his forehead to hers, staring down at her, with a playful
something in his eyes. Lydia didn't want to know what that something was.
And he just … left her there.
He kissed her forehead, said he had to do something, and left her there.
Her hand on her bosom, feeling a little bit disoriented, she tried to watch him walk off. After a few
moments, she regained her sense of reality and walked in the direction Vlad had taken. He had gone to
the main Christmas tree, asked Mrs. Brewster to follow him. He had three presents for the Brewster
family, and he put on quite a friendly grin as he gave them to the woman.
Lydia wondered if he was going to do to Mrs. Brewster what he did to Claire. She also wondered if
Claire's parents knew about the video. Maybe they did, but tried to keep people quiet about it. As far as
everyone knew, it wasn't on the Internet. Other than eye witnesses, there is no proof of the video's
existence.
Yet, the Brewster couple still kissed Vlad's ass like it was a Sweetheart. Maybe they didn't want to tick
him off and tempt him into putting the video on the web. Even if they tried to sue him, he could still do
it, and Claire's reputation, whatever her reputation was, would be ruined, making the lawsuit useless.
Once something's on the Internet, even if it's illegal, it can keep circulating.
Vlad noticed her and gestured for her to come, calling out her name. Feeling a bit like a dog, Lydia came
to him. He picked out a box and asked Lydia to open it. “I am not patient this evening,” he said, almost
sounding like he was apologizing. “I need you to open one gift before Christmas Day.”
Why she had to open it in front of Mrs. Brewster and anyone else at the party who was curious, Lydia
didn't fully understand. She shrugged and opened it anyway. Vlad, being a gentleman, folded the wrapping
paper and put it aside for her. The present turned out to be a Louis Vuitton evening bag with a loose
golden chain handle.
She really didn't like the gift. She thought the bag was boring. Still, when Mrs. Brewster and several
others clapped and gave their ooohs and aaahhs, Lydia grinned and kissed Vlad. She thanked him and put
the golden chain handle on her shoulder. She paraded a bit in front of him and kissed him again.
That was when Mrs. Brunhilde invited them to a small dinner at the Brewster's mansion; the dinner
would take place in a few days. Lydia turned to Vlad and purposely let her lips tremble, attempting to
look afraid. Vlad didn't take the hint. He accepted the invitation, which made Lydia turn around and
make a facepalm.
***

Chapter 45

Chapter
45

Cold

Author's
Note: Apologies for any typos, including any that occur in foreign
languages.
Snow
wasn't falling anymore, but the earth was coated in the stuff. Lydia
didn't want to open presents. The first thing she did that morning
was dress up for the cold and walk outside to admire the effect.

Everything
was so calm. Benches bore thick layers of whiteness, like too much
icing on a cookie. Lydia reached up to touch a tree branch. Some snow
fell into her gloved hand.

She
heard a door open, and then she heard Mihai call out, “Come and
open presents with us!” She waved at him, but shook her head.

After
a few minutes of walking, Lydia noticed a spot where someone had
shoveled up some snow recently, near some statues and some bushes.
That was weird. She promptly waled back inside the house and towards
the main Christmas tree. There was a mess of paper and bows
everywhere. Prudence was fairly buried in several expensive gifts,
laughing and squealing. Lydia walked by her and went to Vlad, who was
on his knees on the floor.

She
bent only slightly and literally talked down to him. “Someone
shoveled up a bunch of snow in the back.”
Prudence's
happy face succumbed to a fearful sort of sadness. Mihai shoved an
unwrapped present of hers into her hands. Happily distracted, she
tore into the present.

Vlad
looked up at her; his cool gray eyes were narrowing, but he was
smiling. In the weak morning light, Lydia thought she saw a hint of
icy blue in his irises. “Lydia,” Vlad said, “that
was Brunhilde's doing. Do not concern yourself.”

“Well
…?” A corner of Lydia's mouth quirked up in uncertainty.
“If you say I'm not to be concerned, that normally means I need
to be concerned.”

Smoothly,
almost a purr, Vlad said to her, “Femeie ridicol.”
Ridiculous woman. “Găsi acel colier, cea preferată,
și arată-l la mine, bine?” Find that necklace,
your favorite one, and show it to me, alright?

Lydia
knew what he was talking about, that ridiculously expensive expensive
he had given her a long time ago, the one with a twenty carat diamond
and several other diamonds, the one that looked almost like a
sparkling lace collar. She went upstairs to find it. She felt safer
keeping it in the mansion instead of her home with her parents. There
was better security here, and she had practically been living in the
mansion anyway.

When
she returned with the necklace in its case, Vlad opened one of
Lydia's presents. It was a lovely knee-length dress that was made
with red and green tapestry lace showing off a rose inspired design,
sleeveless and sweetheart neckline.

“Aceasta
rochie ar trebui să fie perfect pentru acea colier,” Vlad
told her. This dress should be perfect for that necklace.

“Very
nice,” Lydia admitted.

***

She
decided to wear that lovely tapestry lace dress to the dinner at the
Brewster's mansion. She didn't wear the large diamond necklace,
though. She chose a silver chain with a small fiery opal pendant.
Lydia put her hair up into a messy updo and asked Vlad for his
opinion. He kissed her and smiled. “Elegant, Sweet Lydia.”

The
dinner was fine, sort of cozy. They ate in a large dining room, but
everyone stayed on one end of the long table. The only real drawback
was the dirty looks Claire kept sending her. Claire didn't really say
much of anything, though.

“You
must have heard the rumors,” Mr. Brewster told Vlad, tapping
his finger on his glass as he held it. “Some say you're
engaged; some say you're not. Some say your girl refused because she
didn't like the ring.”

Lydia
lowered her head and focused on her meal. She felt Vlad's hand on her
thigh.

“I
have asked her to be my wife,” Vlad admitted as he squeezed her
flesh. “We decided to wait for personal reasons.” He put
emphasis on the last two words of his statement firmly, as if he
didn't want the matter to be discussed.
That
was when Claire Brewster claimed, “Come to my wedding; you
might learn a thing or two.” Then she drummed her fingers on
the table, showing off a large and beautiful white diamond engagement
ring with two side stones.

Vlad
nodded at her. “We certainly would learn much.” Then he
squeezed Lydia's thigh again, which made her squeak a little.

At
some point in the dinner, politics was brought up, but Vlad did not
want any part of the subject. He tried to change the subject, but Mr.
Brewster insisted, and so Vlad stood up and said he wanted to leave.
Lydia still had a few bites of dinner left, but she didn't complain.
On the way home, she asked why he wanted to leave.

“I
have no interest in an argument about politics in this country,”
Vlad said curtly. “There is a trend of childish bickering among
parties.”

“Are
you still mad about Claire stealing the kneaded eraser?”

“I
am,” confessed Vlad.

***

Brunhilde
was in a middle class two story home that night. Loud South Korean
pop was being played on a stereo. She was dancing in the living room,
in the darkness, her movements a little choppy. Nothing about her
dancing could be called fluid. It was almost like she was a wooden
puppet performing karate.

In
the nearby kitchen, where there was light, two vampires were using a
small electric drill on the eye of a chained up third vampire. His
screams would have made a normal person flinch.

“그들은
전쟁을 원한다면,
그들은
그것을 가져야한다 !”
Brunhilde shouted over the music. Geudeureun jeonjaengeul
wonhandamyeon, geudeureun geugeoseul gajyeoyahanda! If they want
war, they shall have it!
She
danced out of the living room and into the kitchen. She took the
drill from the two assailants and dug it in deeper. She laughed at
the wails, and then she kicked the victim into a wall, which crumbled
a teeny bit. Then she took one of the other vampire's fingers, which
was offered without question, and licked blood off of it.

Then
she heard the victim murmur, “Damn it, Mihai.”

Brunhilde's
nostrils flared. Her eyes blinked, and they turned red and wild. Her
hands went to the victim's abdomen, her nails piercing his muscles.
He howled and cried, and she demanded that he speak more about Mihai.

The
victim's head moved up, with the drill stuck in his eye socket. He
stuck out his tongue very far and bit it. Then, most of the tongue
fell onto Brunhilde's arm, where it slipped and landed onto the
floor.

He
wasn't gonna give up any more information … no matter how much
pain she put him in. Even if she ripped off his fingernails …
he wouldn't talk … it was almost like he wanted her to hear
him say Mihai's name just so he could tease her.

Damn
it.

Brunhilde
grabbed the victim by his head and literally shoved it into the wall,
which crumbled even more.

“Kill
him,” she said to the others.

It
was easy for her to figure out who would talk under pressure and who
wouldn't.

***

Chapter 46
Chapter 46
Escapism and Unfaithfulness

Lydia wanted a nice little coffee. So, one cold afternoon, she went to a nice cafe and sat near a window.
The snow had lessened, and so the roads weren't as dangerous as they could have been. Lydia watched
people driving by, considering past events. Her hand rubbed her throat as she thought of Brunhilde.
Ouch. Unpleasant memory.
She sipped at a warm little cup of coffee.
A tall man approached her, asking, “Looking to be alone?” He had a simple sort of accent, an ordinary
voice.
Lydia looked up at the man. He was slender, but handsome, with dark tanned skin and pretty golden eyes.
He had short wavy blond hair and a delicate thin face. His outfit was pretty casual, jeans and T-shirt, a
coat of little note.
“Yes,” she told him, putting her eyes back to her drink.
“That's too bad.” The man leaned in a bit and smiled at her. “You look like you could use some company.
Don't wanna talk to me?”
“I don't know you,” said Lydia.
“I'm sure you could. Want me to tell you about Belize?”
Lydia quirked her eyebrow. “Why would I want to know about Belize?”
The man sat down at the table, didn't even ask permission. “Well, it's a lovely country, with awesome
beaches and resorts, great place to relax and get away from your problems.”
Lydia took another gulp of coffee. “What's your name?”
He reached out to her hand and shook it. “Ryan Street. I used to live in Belize.”
“If it's so great there, why don't you live there anymore?”
Ryan shrugged, but he didn't seem upset. “I ran out of money.”
“You had enough to get home?”
“Had to call a friend for that.” Ryan laced his long fingers together on the table. “I take the occasional
odd job here, now. It's not Belize, but it's nice.”
“Have you lived anywhere else?”
“I was born in New York,” he told her.
Lydia smiled at him. “I was born in New York too.”
They just talked for an hour or so, nothing more, just talked.
Lydia found him again the next day, at the same cafe. He was drinking something with foam in it. She
chatted with him, told him her name. They talked about other lovely places to visit, like Cancun, Madrid,
Paris, New Orleans, etc. Ryan seemed like an average dreamer of a man, wishing he was off somewhere
more interesting, doing something more interesting. He wasn't bitter, though.
She liked the hope she saw in his face.
“I have a boyfriend,” she told him in a light warning. “So, don't flirt with me, okay? He'll kick your ass.”
“You probably do have a boyfriend,” Ryan told her. “You're pretty, you know, kind of weird too, but pretty.
You have the craziest hair.”
Lydia hid a giggle with her palm. “He's stinking rich, and he's very nice to me; I can't be a bitch to him.”
“Don't even nag him?”
“Maybe I do.” Lydia shrugged. “I dunno. I just try not to be mean.”
“Good for you.” Ryan licked some foam off of his mouth. Lydia didn't know why, but that amused her, and
she wished he would do it again. “Nicer you are, the more money you get?”
She winked at him. “You don't wanna piss him off. He's not just rich, he's scary.”
Ryan's smile drooped into a frown. His voice lowered. “Hey, has he …?”
Lydia waved her had and shook her head. “He doesn't beat me.” Then her smile widened.
“I used to have a girlfriend,” Ryan informed, his chest puffing up.
“Used to?”
Ryan's chest went back to normal, and he bit at his lip. “She broke it off.”
“I'm not gonna ask why.” Lydia brought her coffee to her mouth.
He smiled again. “I'll tell you anyway. She found out I was sleeping with a man.”
“Ooooooooooooh Kay.” Lydia put her cup back down. “I'm honored that you're sharing such information
with me, considering we don't know each other that well.” She rolled her eyes, but she wanted to laugh at
him. “I don't have a problem with you fucking assholes. I do have a problem with you being unfaithful.”
Ryan's nose wrinkled. “Why do you have a problem?”
“Well … normally I wouldn't judge. It's none of my business, but you did kinda put it out there.” She put
her elbow on the table and rested her cheek on her hand. “It's just that … when you promise to be
monogamous … you had better keep the promise.” Then she paused, and her eyes widened.
“Something wrong?”
Lydia shook her head. “Nothing at all.”
She simply realized, or she believed, she had never told Vlad she would ever be monogamous. She just said
she'd be his girlfriend. There are several couples in the world who aren't monogamous, so … technically
… Vlad shouldn't assume she was monogamous, and she shouldn't assume the same of him.
This was an astounding concept for her …
Lydia caught Vlad in a loophole.
Well … she didn't exactly want to have sex with anyone else. Satisfying one man is enough work for
her. Sex was sometimes a bit of a chore. She had to put up with a penis that didn't always feel good, and
had to endure sex positions that were usually uncomfortable. Sometimes it felt amazing, really, a
fantastic high, but … she really didn't want to deal with more than one dick.
***
Brunhilde was drinking by herself that night.
She was in a bar, with no friends to talk to her. She chugged down all sorts of drinks, but she didn't get
drunk. She just liked the tastes and the burning.
Her phone in her jeans pocket vibrated. She got an email from one of her babies. Apparently some
important emails were found on a device belonging to one of the vampires she had recently killed over
this rebellion. Screenshots were taken, saved, and attached.
The suspicious screen shots of emails showed Mihai was the one who sent them.
They were discussing all sorts of plans and details about taking Brunhilde down.
Her eyes narrowed.
Then some drunk man had the audacity to flirt with her. Brunhilde snapped at him, “Go away!” He didn't
listen. His hand went to her shoulder. She punched his abdomen. His eyes bulged and he coughed and
whined. Then he fell to the floor. Brunhilde left some money for the bartender and promptly left the bar.
What really bothered her was that the plans in the emails made no sense. They were plans that would've
never worked. Plus, there was something mentioned about burning Brunhilde's heart.
According to what Brunhilde knew, Mihai had never known about her heart being so important until
after someone had burned it.
There would certainly be more investigating.
***
Lydia saw him again, on another afternoon, in that same cafe.
Ryan Street.
He was wearing a gray beanie hat and a sweet smile. “Nice to see you again!”
Either he really liked the cafe, or he was seeking her out. Lydia talked to him anyway. He said he lived in
a tiny apartment. Lydia wondered if living in a small space was good for the mind; maybe it forced you to
use storage space wisely. Maybe it made you appreciate the outdoors more. She didn't really know what
it was like. It sounded like an adventure.
When Lydia finished her coffee, Ryan offered to buy her another one. It felt like a stupid request, but a
sweet one. Lydia told him, “I'll buy you a coffee; how's that?”
She stayed there fifteen minutes longer than last time. She hoped she wouldn't make a habit of staying
with him for so long.
Vlad texted her just as she was leaving the cafe. He wanted to go see a movie.
***
Why he wanted to make out in the middle of an action film, Lydia had no clue.
Well, just as the the protagonist as kicking someone's ass with a machine gun, Vlad put his arms around
her and kissed her lips. She complied, even enjoyed it, but she really tried to be quiet. They were seated
in a corner of the area, with almost no people around them.
His mouth was very warm. He was hugging her so tightly … she felt like nothing could ever hurt her.
A sweet relaxation came over her mind.
Then one of his hands crept to her pants. Lydia mewled, but his mouth kept her from being too loud. He
pressed his fingers into the fabric, teasing her crotch. Her lower regions seemed to buzz silently, and she
was certain she would throb soon.
They left the theater early, and they continued their make out session in the back of Vlad's limousine. It
was a little simpler than the limousine he had been lending to Lydia, but it was very comfortable. They
had their clothing arranged just enough for coitus, and they went at it with zeal.
He kept her on her side on the floor, her knees drawn up, and penetrated her from behind. It was so tight
that Lydia had to push her hand into her mouth, afraid that the driver would hear her scream.
Yet, she didn't exactly have an orgasm.
It was more like … pain that didn't hurt, if that made sense, and it wasn't exactly pleasure.
***
She found him again on another day, Ryan Street, that simple man with simple everyday desires.
This time he was in a bookstore. He waved at her. She went to him and grinned. She didn't know she was
grinning until she saw her reflection in a window.
They didn't do a single sinful thing. They just talked about books.
Then he asked for her email address.
Lydia hesitated for perhaps fifteen seconds.
She gave it to him.
***

Chapter 47
Chapter 47
Need

Author's Note: There will be some mild costume porn, as in overly elaborate descriptions of clothing.
It was a dark evening. The mansion was quiet.

Mihai was reading The Art of War in a drawing room. Prudence was taking a nap in his bedrooom.
Vlad was sitting alone in the kitchen, at the bar table, sipping at a glass of water. He had the composure
of a calm, possibly medicated, bored person.
He really wanted to know where Lydia was. She wasn't answering his texts.
He waited in the kitchen for another fifteen minutes. He texted her again.
Lydia didn't respond.
Vlad texted her five minutes later. She responded with, “Sorry, my phone was off, be there soon.”
Ten minutes later, Lydia arrived at the mansion, apologetic, claiming to have gone to the Neitherworld.
Vlad didn't really know much about the Neitherworld, but he accepted her excuse. He kissed her cheek
and asked her if she would like a nice long bubble bath. She politely refused and said she'd rather watch
TV.
He tried to seduce her into coming to bed with him.
She let him kiss her, let him hold her, and let him do pretty much anything he wanted.
Yet, she didn't seem to be very aggressive. It was as if she stopped caring.
***
Lydia didn't mind being around Ryan. He was pleasant with her, pleasant and average. Nothing about him
shocked her or made her feel uncomfortable.
On a day when the snow was gone, but the air was still unforgiving, Ryan Street and Lydia Deetz wore
warm and average clothes and walked in a mildly busy shopping district. They didn't hold hands. They
barely ever made eye contact, but they talked.
“You love your boyfriend, right?”
Lydia said curtly, “I don't think so, but I like him.”
“So, you lie to him?”
They passed a bridal boutique. For some reason, noticing that store made Lydia shudder. “About that,” she
told Ryan, “I never told him I love him. I even told him I don't want him.”
“Well, why are you with him?”
“Well, why am I talking to you?” Lydia playfully tugged on the long scarf he happened to be wearing.
Ryan snatched his scarf back and stuck his tongue out at her. Lydia smiled. “I have plenty of people to
talk to, you know. I have lots of friends. I don't exactly need you.”
“Do you need your boyfriend?”
Lydia stopped walking, and Ryan stopped too, looking at her with his eyebrows raised as if surprised.
Lydia stared at her boots for a few seconds, and then she said, “I did, once, I think. I probably don't need
him anymore.”
“Do you hear someone crying?” Ryan asked.
“Hm?” Lydia looked up, saw that Ryan was walking towards someone, and followed him.
It was a little boy, small enough to be in kindergarten. He was all alone. Ryan took charge, asked the
little boy where his mother was.
“I dunno . .” the little boy whined.
Ryan stood near him and called the police on his cell phone. Soon, the police came to help him find his
mother.
Lydia was mildly impressed at that.
Later, they went to their favorite cafe. Just as they had sat down, Lydia saw someone.
Brunhilde was sitting far off, but looking right at her, blinking slowly.
Lydia's throat was suddenly tingly, and she coughed. She excused herself to the public restroom. It had
only three stalls and three sinks, and nobody else was in there, until Brunhilde walked into the restroom
three seconds after Lydia.
Backing up a bit, staring at Brunhilde, Lydia said, “I'm not sleeping with him. I don't want to.”
Brunhilde didn't approach her, but she did roll her eyes. “Hey, I don't care.”
Lydia paused.
“You don't care?”
Scratching her head, Brunhilde repeated, “I don't care. So, don't have a panic attack.”
“Are you gonna tell Vlad?”
The red headed woman shrugged. “I don't need to. Why should I?”
“He'll kill the guy,” Lydia said, putting her arms around herself as if she was outside in the cold. “Ryan's
not bad. He doesn't deserve any shit from Vlad.”
“He'll kill the guy if I say he may, but I don't care if he punches the guy in his face,” Brunhilde corrected.
“I suppose another person might ask you why you have been seeing some random ordinary guy when you
have a rich and not so ugly man cosseting you.”
Lydia tried not to allow guilt to show on her face, even though she sort of felt guilty.
“I also suppose you have a reason for talking to him,” Brunhilde told her. “I don't care what the reason is.”
“Well, I just ...”
Brunhilde interrupted her. “I said, I don't care. Now, if you end up popping your thighs open for Mr.
Nobody, it'll be your fault if Vlad pitches a fit.”
“I … I know.” Lydia nodded.
Brunhilde left the restroom after Lydia said that. When Lydia went back to her seat, she couldn't see
Brunhilde anywhere. Ryan was quite cheerful.
“So,” Ryan said, “What do you usually do with your boyfriend?”
Lydia didn't expect that question from him. “Uhm … usual stuff, I guess.”
Ryan nodded and asked, “Maybe I should meet him. I bet he's not a bad guy, might be a good friend.”
She smirked. “You just wanna kiss ass.”
“What's wrong with that?”
“Let's talk about something else.”
Ryan sipped at his drink, and then he asked if she liked animals. So, they talked about animals, and then
she said goodbye.
***
It was good that night, the way Vlad pinned her to a bathroom wall, pushing his cock in and out of her.
It was pretty good, and she didn't mind forcing squeaky whines out of her throat.
Even though it was good, Lydia still faked an orgasm, because she was getting tired.
When she was resting on his bed, Vlad nudged her shoulder and asked, “Știați că un nou restaurant
este deschis pentru afaceri??” Did you know that a new restaurant is open for business?
“Nu,” she said. No.
“Vreau să merg acolo sâmbătă. Vii cu mine?” I want to go there on Saturday. Will you join me?
It certainly wasn't a bad idea. She agreed to go, and he kissed her.
***
The place was a little small, but clean and bright. It was not a formal place, but Vlad wanted to look a
little fancy anyway.
He wore a designer dark blue sweater, black denim pants, and expensive looking black loafer shoes. His pea
coat was a gentle ash gray. Of course, he wore his fancy silver ring, that ring that looked like it was
shaped like a dragon. Lydia had always thought that ring might have been important to him, since he
wore it so much. He wore a ring on another hand, another silver piece with a few little diamond accents.
His long dark hair was loose behind his back, and he seemed to have wanted Lydia to occasionally try to
sniff him, because had had used a shampoo that left off a delicious aroma, like ginger and strawberries.
Lydia most certainly tried to sneak in a sniff or two.
Only to herself, Lydia admitted that she was happy to walk with him into the restaurant. He had the air
of a proud but tasteful king, made even better by his natural good posture and strong frame. For a not
conventionally handsome man, he could be decent eye-candy. Even his sunglasses looked expensive. It was
morning. Vlad wore sunglasses when he went about in the day, just like his son. Lydia had noticed other
vampires doing that too.
Lydia had on a long gray sweater dress with a turtleneck collar. She had on thick black leggings and
black boots. Her coat was a white quilted thing with a faux fur lined hood. She thought that maybe she
looked a bit less important than he did. She wasn't wearing any jewelry, and barely any makeup. Her hair
was a mess, and so she just put it in a low ponytail.
The waiter was very polite, very professional. Lydia liked him. She purposely smiled at him. Once they
had taken their orders and the waiter was gone, Lydia said to Vlad, “Could you please give him a really
great tip?”
Vlad nodded and said, “I would like to do that.”
They waited for their food.
And they waited.
Kept waiting.
Lydia started slumping in her seat. Vlad tried to play a word association game with her.
And they waited. Half of an hour passed.
Vlad got the waiter's attention and asked if there was a problem. The waiter looked a little worried, but
he smiled and said he'd ask the chef. When the waiter returned, he said he was certain the food would be
ready soon.
It wasn't ready soon. Fifteen minutes passed. Lydia's stomach growled. Her lips formed a childish pout.
Vlad started drumming his long fingernails on the table.
Fifteen more minutes passed, and Vlad stood up. He certainly didn't blame the waiter for what was
apparently a problem in the kitchen. He put down a $10 tip and asked Lydia to leave with him.
Before they could leave, the manager stopped them. He was a tall and slightly old man with a thick
accent Lydia couldn't place. It was either Italian or Israeli … she wasn't sure. He started yelling at
them, and Lydia really wondered if he had a mental illness. He was demanding that they pay for the
meal, the meal they didn't even receive. Vlad stared at him, his eyes sharp as they narrowed. His lips
looked looked thinner, and his jaw looked stiff.
The other customers were staring. Some of them looked amused. Some of them looked shocked.
When the manager threatened to call the police, that was when Vlad spoke up, or rather … yelled up.
“THEN, CALL THE POLICE!! !” That was what he yelled.
Everybody in the restaurant was silenced. Vlad's statement sounded like something between a shout and
a roar. Lydia had her palms on her ears, and she backed up towards the exit.
The manager's face paled, and he was jittery overall.
After a few seconds, Vlad turned to Lydia with an equable smile, as if he thought she was a sweet little
baby that did something cute. He took her hand, kissed it, and lead her out of restaurant.
In the limousine, Lydia stayed very close to him. Vlad's booming voice repeated in her head several times,
making her shiver.
She imagined the man could scare a lion away.
Why on earth was that sexy to her?
***
They went to another restaurant. It was nice little casual place. The waiter that came to them shocked
Lydia.
It was Ryan Street. He was smiling. Evidently, he had gotten a new job.
Lydia's face turned cold and her throat tightened. She kept her eyes to her menu. Vlad didn't appear to
notice her distress. He simply ordered his food. Lydia ordered, tried to sound normal, but she kept her
eyes to the menu.
Ryan took the menus away, and when he left, Lydia felt a temporary relief. She became nervous again
when Ryan returned with the food, but it was a brief feeling, because once again he left, as a waiter
should have in that situation.
The food didn't taste as yummy as it would have if a heavy and guilty feeling didn't weigh down her
stomach. When Vlad left a large tip, Lydia almost threw up in her mouth. She chewed on some minty gum
in case bad breath tried to lurk.
***

Chapter 48
Chapter 48
Yours
“Ar trebui să poarte colierul mare de o zi,” Vlad told her in the limousine. You should wear the large
necklace one day.

“Care dintre ele?” Lydia asked him, blushing a bit. Which one? His hair still smelled fantastic.
“Colier cu diamant carate douăzeci,” he replied, leaning into her and squeezing her thigh. The necklace
with the twenty carat diamond.
Lydia stroked the top of his hand with the tips of her fingers, as if drawing circles. She looked down to
admire his ring. “Nu am avut un motiv să-l poarte,” she said quietly. I haven't had a reason to wear it.
Vlad chuckled; it was a softer sound, almost a simple vibration. “Brățări, cercei, inel și sunt, de
asemenea, plăcut. Tu ar trebui să poarte cei prea.” The bracelets, earrings, and ring are also pleasant.
You should wear those too.
With a shrug, Lydia said, “Poate de ziua mea.” Maybe on my birthday. She moved her head up to look at
him. That was when he kissed her lips. Lydia moved away from him, but certainly allowed him to grip her
thigh. “Hey, you're a pretty scary guy, you know?”
“Hmmm . .” Vlad rubbed her nose with his, grinning. “Am presupus că era evident.” I assumed that was
obvious.
“I think … I'm starting to like that,” Lydia confessed in a tone that was practically a whisper. “That
manager was insane. He reminded me of a couple I saw on a reality TV show. I almost thought he'd bite
my head off.”
“Ești amuzant uneori,” Vlad said. You're funny sometimes. He put his arms around her and kissed her
again. “Vrei să mergi la o librărie?” Would you like to go to a bookstore?
“Why not?” Lydia nuzzled his hair and inhaled.
When they were browsing a bookstore's merchandise, Lydia found herself giggling because Vlad would
pinch her backside every few minutes. Sometimes she responded by slapping his arm with a book, but she
winked at him. They got a few interesting books, but Vlad seemed more concerned with randomly kissing
her cheek or hand. At one point, he pulled on the collar of her turtleneck dress and tickled her side.
Once they were finished shopping, they went to the mansion. Mihai and Prudence were gone somewhere,
probably having their own fun. Lydia decided to take a shower. She blow dried her hair and put on a soft
cotton robe. She sat down with Vlad on a living room sofa to watch TV.
He pulled her onto his lap and kissed the nape of her neck. Lydia murmured something that was slurred,
as if she was drugged. His hands slid under her robe and caressed her breast.
“Vlad … hmmm …” She started grinding against him.
“Da?” he whispered to her. Yes?
“Never mind . .” She forgot what she wanted to say. Vlad bit at her ear, just enough to keep her attention.
Then his hand slid down her thigh. His fingertips teased her labia, making Lydia whine. Then he played
with her clitoris.
“Vlad!” Lydia writhed on him, closing her eyes.
“Va geme pentru mine?” he said between kisses on her ear. Will you moan for me?
She was feeling a little jumpy. When he sunk his finger into her, Lydia pushed her fingertips into Vlad's
legs and rocked her hips, letting out soft little sounds. He kept stroking her insides for a few moments,
triggering lubrication. Then he removed his hand and pulled her rope off of her. Lydia tossed it onto the
floor. Vlad simply undid his pants and pushed them and his underwear down, revealing his alert looking
erection.
Lydia didn't waste time. She faced him and pushed herself onto his cock. He felt like he was reaching as
far as he could into her muscles, deliciously thick.
As she ground her hips, her hands on his shoulders, she moaned at each repeated impalement, and she
closed her eyes. Vlad's hand touched her hip, and the other gently pulled at her nipple. He was growling
at her. He didn't sound human, but she wasn't afraid.
So much … so much … so much …
She pressed onto him extremely well.
Her toes curled, and she trembled.
“Ah ah ah ah … AH! Vlad!”
“I … am … yours to take . .” he managed to say, despite being distracted.
She had her orgasm then, screaming and moving her hips in an irregular way.
***
“Vlad,” Lydia said to him as they rested in his bed, nude and satisfied.
“Yes?” He hugged her from behind, lightly stroking her arm.
“Do you have any life goals?”
Vlad sighed and kissed her shoulder. He didn't answer immediately.
“Aren't you going to talk to me, Vlad?”
He pressed his smile into her skin. “I have done so many things. I have difficulty thinking of more.”
Lydia giggled. “Hey, did you ever drink coke back when it had cocaine in it?”
“I first tried Coca-Cola in nineteen-thirty, if my memory is correct,” Vlad told her, “but I never tried
cocaine, because I noticed unpleasantness in users.”
Lydia adjusted her pillow. “Have you ever been a smoker?”
“I once had a habit of smoking cigars, but I stopped when I noticed my sense of taste becoming dull.”
“You were probably one of those people who make smoking look cool.” Lydia patted his hand. “Can a
vampire get lung cancer?”
“I believe not, but smoking can still cause discomfort.”
She yawned and stretched the muscles in her legs. “I wonder why Claire stole that present on Christmas.”
“This is not the first time you have said that,” Vlad told her.
“It just bugs me. It was stupid.”
“Everyone has moments of stupidity, Lydia.”
***
“You think maybe we should try a new cafe sometime?” Ryan Street quietly asked her as they hung out in
a public library the next day. They were looking at books about spiders.
“A new cafe?” Lydia thoughtfully said. “Hmmm … I dunno. What do you have in mind?”
Ryan opened up a book and looked at it. “I dunno either, but I'll look around for you.” He closed the book
and put it back on the shelf.
Lydia shrugged and picked out a book that had a picture of a large tarantula on the cover. “Let me know
when, I guess.”
“Did you do anything cool with your boyfriend lately?”
“He took me out to dinner, but the food never came and the manager was insane. So, we went somewhere
else.”
Ryan crouched down to look at more books. “How was the manager crazy?”
“He threatened to call the police.”
“Some people are nuts,” Ryan said as he straightened up. “Your boyfriend has epic hair.”
Lydia smirked at him and folded her arms. “It's not just epic, it's fabulous.”
Ryan laughed a bit, but then he said, “He looks a bit old, you know? Good for him for keeping that epic
hair.”
Lydia rolled her eyes.
He laughed again. “He looks pretty tough too, like a really cool gangster or spy villain who works out.”
“I never thought of him as a spy villain, gangster … maybe?” Lydia tapped a book with the pad of her
finger.
“Is he a gangster?” Ryan asked, this time a little quieter.
“Not really,” answered Lydia. She felt someone walk by them. She turned her head to see, and so did Ryan,
but he didn't seem to care much.
It was Brunhilde, and she didn't look back, didn't even say anything, like she hadn't noticed Lydia at all.
Why was Brunhilde here? Lydia got the feeling that she had wanted Lydia to notice her. Why else would
Brunhilde walk by her?
Lydia looked back at Ryan with the best smile she could make. “Let's go get some hotdogs. My treat!”
***
Brunhilde found a book on politics and flipped through the pages. She wasn't really interested in the book.
She was interested in the fact that the man Lydia was talking to was not a vampire. She was also
interested in the fact that the man wasn't at all disturbed by her, as if he did not know her, which made
sense since he was not a vampire.
She was suspicious, but he wasn't a vampire. She was absolutely certain.
***

Chapter 49
Chapter 49
Guilt of a Fool

Normally, when Lydia spent time with Ryan, she did so during the daytime. However, for some reason, he
wanted to meet a little closer to the evening. He promised that this was the best cafe ever, and she just
had to come.

Well, as she drove to the place, the first thing she noticed was that the neighborhood was a very small
town with several closed and old looking buildings. The second thing she noticed was that the building at
the address Ryan had given her didn't even look like a cafe. It looked like an abandoned little
convenience store.
She couldn't see anyone around.
Now, Dear Reader, some people might have been suspicious, and would have chosen to drive back home.
Keep in mind, Dear Reader, that Lydia was only eighteen years old at the time. While she wasn't the most
naive person in the world, she wasn't immune to the occasional lack of proper judgment. Lydia Joyce
Deetz, a very intelligent woman, forgot about common sense, and chose to exit her vehicle, in an
unfamiliar town, looking for someone she had not known for very long. She knocked on the entrance door,
and then she looked into a window. It looked empty in there. She saw her own reflection, and she even
saw Beetlejuice. He was waving at her as if he wanted her to come over for cake and cookies, smiling and
showing off his rotten teeth. “Hey, Babe, I'm getting kinda lonely!” She smiled at him.
Then she noticed a third reflection of the window, an average looking man with a round nose. He had a
pistol pointed at her head. He was sneaky, perfectly caught her by surprise. Beetlejuice's face turned
cherry red, and his nostrils blew out fire.
“Just come with me,” the unknown man instructed very quietly. “Come with me, and you won't get hurt.”
God Fucking Damn It RYAN!! !
Lydia's hands turned into fists as she rapidly whispered, “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice.”
Beetlejuice's reflection, which apparently couldn't even be seen by the man, disappeared.
The man's gun poofed into a fleshy, white and black striped, ugly creature with a long nose and large red
eyes. There were long green teeth above the trigger, which had morphed into tiny hands gripping the
man's finger.
The man screamed, tried to shake the gun off of him, but Beetlejuice the Gun bit his finger. Lydia ran to
her car. Once she was inside she started the car and drove as far away as she could. After five minutes,
when she was confident that nobody was following her, she said out loud, “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice,
Beetlejuice.” She did this to put him back into the Neitherworld.
Her cell phone rang. She knew it wasn't a wise thing to do, but she answered her cell phone while driving.
“Lydia, where are you?”
It was Brunhilde. When did she give Brunhilde her cell phone number?
“What the hell is going on?” she asked Brunhilde.
“Da fuck?”
Lydia slowed down a little. She had been going too fast. “Brunhilde, someone tried to kidnap me at
gunpoint! I had to call Beetlejuice! I'm driving to the mansion, now!”
“Are you being followed?”
“I don't think so.”
“You could be followed and not know it,” insisted Brunhilde, “but, I'm at the mansion, so you're safest here.
Most of them already know where Vlad lives.”
“Who the hell is 'them?'” Lydia yelled.
“Vampires, Love. Rebelling vampires. They know I disappeared when I left Vlad with my heart. They just
don't know exactly where. They also know you were with me. If Beetlejuice wasn't your friend, you
would've been a prisoner. Guess what's the most popular way for nasty assholes to get info from a
prisoner.”
Lydia didn't want to guess, but she did. “Torture?”
“Yep.” Brunhilde sounded more serious than normal. “I only recently figured out they were doing this.
They paid Ryan Street to lure you away.”
Lydia sighed. “I assumed Ryan was involved as soon as shit went down.”
“You have a reputation in this town, Girl,” said Brunhilde. “A nice reputation. You'll befriend almost
anyone, especially someone who's pleasant to you. Right now, Ryan Street might be on his way to some
place far off with a shitload of cash.”
“Why did they hire some normal human dude?”
“If you had suddenly befriended another vampire, I would have figured this out much quicker.”
“Ryan probably didn't even know he was dealing with vampires,” Lydia said. “Vlad is gonna be so fucking
pissed.”
“Well, he'll be more pissed at the rebels, and at Ryan, than he would be at you, if at all,” promised
Brunhilde.
Lydia really didn't want to cross that bridge, didn't even want to come to it.
***
Feeling like a guilty child sitting outside a principal's office, Lydia Deetz sat in the main living room, the
one with white walls and colorful furniture. She was on a couch, upright, legs together, hands in her lap,
eyes lowered.
Unlike a guilty child, Lydia was given a glass of red wine, despite the illegality of it. She was also given a
grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of chili. She had consumed the food and drink, appreciating the
attempts at comfort. However, she wasn't comforted.
Vlad was yelling in the hallway. Brunhilde was yelling right back at him. They were using a mixture of
languages. Most of the time Lydia had no idea what was being said.
Mihai woke up and went downstairs in a fluffy robe and wearing bunny slippers. The yelling confused him,
and so he sat down next to Lydia and asked what was going on. Lydia explained the best she could,
considering there was so much hollering in the background.
Then Prudence came home from a shopping trip she had taken with Bertha. She was alone, carrying lots of
bags, and just as confused as Mihai had been, and so she went into the living room. Mihai went to help her
take the bags upstairs, explaining as he did so.
So, Lydia was alone in the living room again. She sighed.
Then the yelling stopped.
Brunhilde sauntered into the living room, grinning. She stopped to pat Lydia's head like she was a dog.
Then she left the room. Lydia imagined that Brunhilde won the argument, whatever the argument was.
Vlad entered the living room soon after Brunhilde left. He looked fairly composed, no surprise there. He
had on a simple white dress shirt and leather pants. His face was … well … emotionless, like a placid
porcelain doll.
Not a single word came from him at that moment, not even when he decided to sit down right next to
Lydia. He just looked at the TV. The TV wasn't even on, but he looked at it.
She didn't want to be the first to speak.
They just … sat there, and they were silent.
A full minute passed. Vlad spoke first, softly, sweetly, “De ce te-ai împrieteni cu omul acela?” Why did
you befriend that man?
“Vlad . .” Lydia didn't know what she was supposed to say; and she didn't know what she wanted to say. “I
…” She didn't even make a full statement.
“You need to tell me,” he told her.
“I don't know, okay?” Her eyes were stinging.
His head turned. He looked at her hands. “Tu nu mi-ai spus despre el.” You did not tell me about him. He
said it so gently that it only made Lydia feel worse. “Acest fapt sporește suspiciune.” That fact increases
suspicion.
Lydia bent over in her seat, her hands on her ears. She was starting to cry. “We didn't do anything!
Okay?”
“Dacă acest lucru este adevărat, de ce l-ai ascuns de mine?” If that is true, why did you hide him from
me?
“Am crezut că l-ar face rău,” Lydia squeaked out, gasping a bit. I thought you would hurt him.
Vlad stood up then, and he said with much more force, “Acum m-am hotărât să-l rănesc.” Now I am
determined to hurt him.
“I don't care about that piece of shit anymore,” Lydia said, straightening up her back, but still keeping her
head down. “He must have known he was selling me out into some kind of trouble.”
He reached down to her hands and tugged on her arm a little, trying to get her to stand up. Lydia stood,
but she didn't look at his face.
Vlad's fingertips touched her chin, turned her face upwards. She tried not to make eye contact, but he
said, “Uită-te la mine.” Look at me. So, she looked at him. His eyes were so sad. “Cred că trebuie să fii
mai atent.” I think you need to be more careful.
“I … Vlad, I never meant to cause any trouble.”
“Tu nu a provocat probleme. Altcineva a făcut-o,” Vlad said carefully. You did not cause any trouble.
Someone else did.
She hugged him. She just needed a hug.
“I'm sorry, Vlad. He … he seemed so normal and … I never really wanted to be normal before, but I
… I just wanted to … taste it. Things have been too weird, even for me.”
His hand stroked her back. “I must apologize, because I will make your life slightly weirder.”
She groaned.
“I insist that you move into this mansion, and I will hire bodyguards for you.”
Lydia sighed and said, “Vampire bodyguards?”
Vlad nodded. “Vampire bodyguards.”
“What about school?”
“You will be escorted to school, and you will be watched as you finish this semester, then you will take
online classes.”
That seemed odd. She gave him a disbelieving look. “How are you gonna get bodyguards in the community
college?”
He simply kissed her forehead, not answering the question. Then he asked her to come downstairs to the
basement with him.
Well, the basement looked as normal as ever, but Vlad showed Lydia a hidden door that led to a large
room. He flipped on a ceiling light.
“Wow … this was a well kept secret,” Lydia said out loud.
Let's see … very nice bed … interesting looking furniture, like spanking benches, sex swings, some
cages, etc … scary but thrilling looking “equipment” hanging from the walls, hmmm … yep … this
was a BDSM dungeon, a pretty modern looking one.
“Okay, you are being random!” She nudged Vlad's arm. “What the fuck does this have to do with anything?”
Vlad gave her his favorite wicked smile. That made Lydia's smile shrink, and her eyes widen.
Then he said, “For some time, I have wanted to give you an option to play with me, if you like. I may be as
submissive, or dominant, as you like. Do you know what I am referring to?”
Lydia had a habit of reading a lot, and of learning about subcultures, and so, she knew exactly what this
was about. She blushed, but wasn't exactly disgusted.
“Well … not right now …” She stepped away from him, putting her hands behind her back and shyly
looking away.
“Yes, I know,” he answered, smirking at her, tilting his head in a way that made his wavy hair look off-
kilter. “Not now. I know. One day, perhaps.”
Lydia saw a whip, pulled it from a wall, and said, “You see this thing?” She shook it for emphasis. Vlad
nodded, his mouth pursing like he wanted to laugh at her. “Well, keep it the fuck away from me,” Lydia
told him as she put it back. “I don't wanna get whipped.”
Vlad started smiling again. “You may whip me,” he offered. That was when Lydia genuinely laughed and
smiled back. Vlad stroked her cheek with his fingertips, his eyes gentle. “I thought this would make you
smile.”
Suddenly her smile vanished. “Oh my God, do Mihai and Prudence use this place?!”
“No, no, he has his own room. This is mine.” He pressed his mouth to the top of her head and muffled his
laughter with her hair. He hugged her again.
Good … Lydia didn't want to share that sort room with anyone except Vlad. That would have been a
little bit … creepy … like having sex in Mihai's bedroom.
“I don't think I can take on a new lifestyle,” Lydia told Vlad as she pulled away from him to look at some
other devices, “but I think I wouldn't mind learning more about this stuff, trying a few things out.” She
saw what seemed to be a cane, and not the walking kind. “Except that … fuck no to that … or the
whip thing. Okay, what the fuck are these swords for?!”
She appreciated the distraction, even though it was a weird distraction.
***

Chapter 50
Chapter 50
Important Person

February started off fairly peacefully, but Lydia didn't really like living with bodyguards. It was pretty
ridiculous. When she was at the mansion, as long as Mihai, Vlad, or Brunhilde were there, she didn't need
the bodyguards and they'd relax in different rooms, otherwise, they'd stick close to her. Her parents
weren't exactly thrilled about her moving into the mansion with her “lover,” mostly because they noticed
she hadn't been too pleased about it. They couldn't stop her, though. When they noticed that Vlad had
hired bodyguards, they asked questions. Vlad told a hilarious lie. He said he wanted Lydia to feel like an
important celebrity, and so he hired bodyguards. That didn't really make too much sense, but Vlad
refused to give a better explanation.

School was tense, because Lydia was always looking for anyone weird. Her body guards didn't follow her
onto school grounds, yet Vlad promised that she was protected.
Her body guards had different shifts, depending on the the time of day. They were always tall, buff, scary
looking men in suits, but there were two different sets of men. They were very polite to her.
One of the first things Lydia asked was, “Why doesn't Prudence get bodyguards?”
Vlad told her, “Prudence doesn't have any value to the rebels. If they do kidnap her, she will not be able
to give them any valuable information, and Brunhilde would have an army of vampires rescue her and
then kill the kidnappers. At least, if they kidnap you, they can gain important information about how to
kill Brunhilde, they believe.”
Vlad didn't really know what it was that Lydia knew. Lydia knew not to tell.
Most vampires were like humans, as in, they didn't know about the Neitherworld. Also, the rebels had no
idea how Brunhilde was able to grow another heart, since vampires just can't do that, and Brunhilde was
at least similar to a vampire. Lydia knew it was quite simple … in a way. Brunhilde just took some
human blood to give her enough strength to grow a new heart. They didn't know that. They didn't want
to take a chance in not knowing exactly what happened between Brunhilde and Lydia. They also didn't
know about Brunhilde's strange physical transformation. Lydia didn't know the significance of that
transformation, but she imagined it was important, somehow.
Eventually, Lydia found out that while Vlad technically hired the bodyguards, Brunhilde was personally
paying them money. Vlad didn't lose a dime. At one point, Brunhilde spoke to her in private.
“I know you don't like me,” she told Lydia, “but I appreciate that you're not blabbing to anyone. You're not
one of my babies, but you're important.”
The bodyguards made people who didn't know her think she was a lesser known-celebrity or a rich
heiress. The people who did know her thought that either Vlad was involved with a mafia, or some crazy
admirer was stalking Lydia. One day, as Lydia was shopping in a bookstore, her two bodyguards doing
their jobs, she saw Claire Brewster come into the store with two bodyguards of her own. Claire walked
right past Lydia and gave her a smug look, her guards following, purchased a key chain, and left the store.
Great, did she somehow start a new fad for rich girls who weren't even celebrities? Lydia didn't think
this is a good thing.
One day, when she was finished with classes and went to a candy shop to get a bag of sweets. A young
woman wearing a black hijab and other conservative clothing entered around the same time she did.
Lydia wasn't in a hurry, and so she let the Muslim woman go ahead of her at the cashier. Like the other
few people in the store, the Muslim woman appeared confused at the sight of two bodyguards hanging
around a woman in designer clothing. Nobody said anything to Lydia about it, though.
The clerk was a pleasant looking Caucasian man, but as soon as the Muslim woman asked for something, he
stopped being pleasant. He put his hands up, as if defending himself in an argument, and said, “Woah, woah,
woah, we don't serve Muslims here.”
Lydia didn't know that people in this part of town could be that bigoted.
The Muslim woman was even more confused. She said, “What? Excuse me?”
“We don't serve your kind,” insisted the clerk.
“What the hell is my kind?” the Muslim woman said with a frown.
“A camel riding terrorist,” replied the clerk. “Take your business somewhere else.”
“I was born and raised in this state!” the Muslim woman told him.
The other customers in general looked uncomfortable, but none of them said anything.
Now, Lydia disliked Islam as a religion, but she didn't hate Muslims, and she really didn't think this was
cool.
So, she touched the Muslim woman's shoulder, said, “Excuse me.” Then she moved ahead of the woman and
faced the clerk with a grim coolness in her eyes. Her bodyguards kept to her like the rings on Saturn.
“Hey, Cunt!” Everyone gasped. “I'm talking to you!” She pointed at the clerk, just in case anyone
misunderstood who she was calling a cunt. “In this country it's illegal for a business to refuse service
because of a customer's religion, so fuck you!”
The clerk yelled back, but Lydia ignored him. She took the woman's hand and pulled her out of the store.
“Hey, what's your name?” Lydia asked her.
“I'm Eda,” she said, smiling like a kid who was given a brand new toy. “Wow, you're a crazy girl. Are you a
diplomat's daughter?” That last bit she said as the bodyguards followed them outside.
“Nah.” Lydia walked the woman to her car. “We could have asked to speak to the manager, but that was
more fun.”
“Maybe he could have lost his job if we talked to the manager,” Eda said.
“What if the manager was stupid too?” Lydia argued.
Sometime later, Lydia drove by a church, her bodyguards in the back seats. Lydia thought she saw a black
hooded figure standing at the entrance doors. She looked back and saw nobody there.
Weird.
***
On a cool Sunday evening, Lydia was relaxing at home with Vlad, sipping hot chocolate, when Brunhilde
came to visit, and she brought with her a beautiful woman.
The beautiful woman introduced herself as Akiyama Akane, surname Akiyama and given name Akane.
She was almost as tall as Brunhilde. Akane had an oval shaped face, pale skin, and a voluptuous figure,
long legs, full bosom, wide hips and plump backside. She kept her long straight hair loose, and it smelled
like new rain for some reason. She was dressed in a fancy black suit, with black stiletto heels and sparkly
jewelry.
Brunhilde said that Akane had insisted on visiting her “good friend Vlad,” but Brunhilde rolled her eyes
as she said it.
“I haven't seen you in a very long time,” Akane said very softly, gently, almost like a little singing bird.
She spoke English beautifully, pronouncing everything correctly, but with an elegant Japanese accent.
Assuming this beautiful creature was a vampire, Lydia tried to be as polite as possible, offering food and
drink, making conversation, complimenting her. She had a calm and soft spoken demeanor, with a little
smile that seemed unbreakable. Her dark eyes looked strangely innocent and perky.
Akane seemed very friendly, but Brunhilde kept giving her annoyed looks. Vlad seemed to be trying not
to react too much to Akane at all. He remained cool, hardly ever changing his expression or tone.
“We should go shopping together sometime, Miss Dalca,” Akane said to her, mildly surprising Lydia. “You
could be my guide.”
Lydia looked at Vlad. Vlad shrugged. Lydia assumed that was not a “no.” She smiled at Akane and said, “I
don't see why not.” While Vlad didn't seem to like Akane very much, he apparently didn't see her as a
threat.
***
Weird thing about Akane, she didn't even know Lydia well, but she wanted to pay for everything Lydia
tried to purchase. Akane's claimed, “You are Vlad's girlfriend. So, I will support you.”
Akane seemed fairly rich; she even bought fine jewelry for Lydia. Akane once took a beautiful pink pearl
bracelet, held Lydia's wrist, and put the pearls there. Akane's fingertips lightly brushed against the the
wrist's underside. Lydia pulled her wrist away, sensing that Akane was … well … trying to touch
her. Akane even gave Lydia her cell phone number.
Later on, Lydia asked Vlad about it.
“Why on earth does she like me so much?”
“She does not like you,” Vlad told her. “She is trying to gain Brunhilde's approval. She is jealous of me.”
“Seems like a pretty pathetic attempt to get Brunhilde to like her.”
“Akane is pathetic,” Vlad said.
***

Chapter 51
Chapter 51
No

It was Prudence's birthday that afternoon. She turned nineteen years old. Of course, Mihai had demanded
a fantastic party. Prudence loved it.

Mihai rented out a whole bakery for the party, that way, the guests would have as many treats as they
liked. Prudence wore an adorable Hime Style lolita dress, white and blue, with pretty cameos printed on
the fabric. She had on a bright pale pink wig, poofy with falling curls, and a sparkly tiara. Her socks were
neat, shoes elegant, and she even had a cute little hand fan to wave about.
There was a tall fondant cake, pink and white and green, adorned with candles, flowers, pearls, little
gems, all made of edible materials … except for the candles.
Claire Brewster and her family were not invited, which was just fine for Lydia's tastes. That strange
Japanese woman Akane was there, though. She clung to Lydia as if they were best friends. She even
started calling Lydia, “Di-chan.” She also tried to get Lydia to call her, “Aka-chan.”
Lydia whispered to Vlad, when she thought Akane wasn't listening, “Eu nu sunt confortabil cu ea.” I'm not
comfortable with her.
“Voi vorbi cu ea,” Vlad promised. I will speak to her.
Akane didn't seem to take it too personally. After Vlad spoke with her, she went to Lydia, took her
hands, smiled down at her, and said, “I am so sorry.” She gave Lydia some space after that.
Lydia was eating a piece of yummy cake, chatting with her tall friend Bertha, when she saw Brunhilde.
Brunhilde wasn't being very sociable. She was sipping some water from a cup, standing in a corner. She had
a slightly irritated expression, her eyebrows angry. That Japanese vampire, Akane, was standing next to
her, wearing her beautiful little smile. Sometimes she spoke to Brunhilde, but Brunhilde seemed to not
want to hear most of it.
Vlad went to her, hugged her from behind. “Hello, Ladies.”
Bertha smiled up at him. “Great party, huh?”
With a nod, Vlad said to the young woman, “Prudence must be glad to know you're enjoying yourself.”
“She's been kind of mopey lately,” Bertha said, “but I think she's getting better.”
Lydia didn't really think Prudence was improving, but she did think Prudence was merely enjoying what
she could. She didn't speak her mind on the subject, though.
***
Akane stayed away from Lydia for three days.
Then she called Lydia and chatted with her. Lydia didn't really want to chat with Akane, but she didn't
want to be impolite.
By coincidence, Lydia saw Akane in a bookstore one day. Akane waved at her and ran to her. “How are
you, Di-chan?”
Raising her eyebrow, Lydia told her she was fine. Akane insisted on helping her purchase books. After
maybe an hour, Lydia insisted on leaving.
Lydia went home and put away her new books, while she got more friendly text messages from Akane. She
ignored them.
***
On a dry evening, Mihai was sitting alone in the small private library in the mansion. He had a laptop in
his lap, and he was reading news articles on the Internet. Eventually, he stretched his muscles in the
chair, and he noticed Brunhilde sitting in a chair next to him. That surprised him a little, because she
hadn't been in the room when he entered.
Brunhilde was wearing an old and worn cotton robe, staring at Mihai with a gentle little smile.
“Hey, funny story,” she said, crossing her legs. “I don't think these rebels like you.”
Mihai moved some of his long hair away from his eyes. “I don't know what you mean.”
“Well, let me tell you the four one one.” Her smile widened. “I had one of the rebels killed, and he
mentioned your name, but he wouldn't talk anymore.”
Mihai's perfectly groomed eyebrows rose. “Why did he say my name?”
She shrugged. “I saw some emails you apparently sent to someone, concerning killing me.”
He shot out of his seat, his laptop falling to the floor. “I did no such thing!”
“Relax, Cutie,” Brunhilde said, waving her hand,” The screenshots were of edited, false. I found that out.
The rebels were just trying to throw me off. They don't seem to understand that you're not stupid enough
to start a rebellion, or even participate in one. You have too much to lose.”
Mihai sighed, feeling his fear shrink into relief. He bent down to pick up his laptop, hoping it wasn't
damaged.
“You seem to have an enemy,” Brunhilde told him as he sat back down.
“I wish I knew who it was,” Mihai said.
“Perhaps it's someone who's jealous of you,” Brunhilde said lightly. “You aren't the sort who makes enemies
left and right.”
***
Lydia thought she didn't mind being tied up like this, her wrists bound with rope at her bosom, her ankles
tied together. She enjoyed having Vlad there, though. Standing near the bed, he had her on her back, on a
bed, pounding his thick penis into her, holding her legs up.
Every movement he made inside her made her gasp out needy sounds. It was so thick in her, like he was
trying to push her muscles apart. His fingers pressed into her ankles; her toes flexed.
“Aaah ah … Vlad …” Lydia was unable to make a completed statement. She laced her fingers
together; they suddenly felt unusually thick to her.
So hot between her legs … so hot and wet and pulsing …
Vlad bit some of the rope that bound her ankles together, giving her a playful look.
That was when she lost herself.
Sometime later, they were having dinner at a restaurant.
In the middle of the meal, Vlad handed her a small ring box. Lydia opened it. She saw a a glittering ring
with a large pear shaped diamond.
He looked so handsome that moment, in his dark suit and patient smile. He asked her, gently, “Te
căsătorești cu mine?” Will you marry me? This time he asked quietly, discreetly. Nobody else seemed
to notice them.
Lydia shook her head. “Eu nu pot face asta.” I can't do that.
Vlad drew in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. He took the ring box back and closed it. “Ești încă
frică?” Are you still afraid?
“Desigur,” Lydia answered. Certainly.
He put the ring box into a pocket and exhaled again.
They didn't notice the Japanese vampire Akane sitting in a corner of the restaurant, with a small
photograph of Vlad on the table. She was gently tapping the photo with the tip of a sharp knife, right
over his forehead, as if playfully stabbing it. Her eyes went up to point at the back of the real Vlad's
beautiful head. She smiled.
***
Chapter 52
Chapter 52

Past Life
Author's Note: Apologies for any historical inaccuracies.

It was a Saturday evening when Lydia arrived at the glamorous looking hotel. Akane had invited her
over for some tea. Lydia had asked Vlad about it. He told her he had never seen Akane act cruelly
towards others, and even Brunhilde confirmed that Akane wasn't really a threat.
Well, hoping for some really nice, Lydia decided to take a chance and visit Akane in her hotel room.
It was a large suite, dimly lit. Akane greeted her with that soft smile of hers, her long hair tied back in a
low bun. Lydia wanted to ask why the lights weren't turned up, but she didn't want to be rude.
Akane led her to a comfortable armchair and then sat down in before her in a matching chair. There was
a table between them, bearing a small and Japanese looking tea set. The cups didn't have handles. There
was a bowl of American looking cookies, though. Lydia's bodyguards literally stood by.
Lydia said thank you as Akane poured some tea for her, but she couldn't think of anything else to say
when Akane asked her, “Has Vlad told you about his past?”
“Uhm . .” Lydia blinked, holding her cup, not even trying to sip at it.
The woman's smile faded to the point where Akane had a purely emotionless face, calm, her eyes slightly
downward.
“Are you okay, Akane?”
“Maybe, you think his past is of no importance,” Akane said very quietly. She brought her cup to her lips
and swallowed a minute amount of tea, and then she set her cup down. “He does support you. All of your
expenses are his.”
Lydia narrowed her eyes. “What are you getting at? Are you calling me a whore?”
The Japanese woman took another sip of tea. “I have forgotten some details of my life before the Queen
of Vampires found me. I forgot when I was born, where I was born, certain dates … Do your guards
need to be here?”
“Yes. Yes they do.” Lydia gulped down some tea. It was kind of bitter, but not too bad.
“Tell them to go into the bedroom.” Akane gestured towards a door. “You may call them if you feel
threatened.”
“What's your problem?”
“I don't want to tell this story to men.”
“Maybe I don't want to hear your story.” Lydia examined one of the cookies. There were chocolate chips
in the dough. “What do you want?”
“There is a whore in this room,” Akane told her. That gentle and elegant voice of hers was changing into
something deeper. “You are not the whore, Di-chan.”
Lydia dropped the cookie into the bowl. “Okay, I'll bite.” She very politely asked her bodyguards if they
would please go into the bedroom. They complied without a word.
And Akane began her story.
***
I don't remember many things about my past, I have said this before. I am quite old. I remember I had a
mother who didn't seem to care about me. She barely acknowledged my existence. Any misbehavior I
displayed would be treated the same as if I had been a perfectly polite child. My father was the most
important authority. He was the one who would beat me, and he was the one who would reward me.
My name was Suzume. It means, “sparrow.” I don't remember my parents' names. I do remember that my
father died, and my mother sold me to a brothel. This was common. There were men who made careers
out of finding little girls for brothels. Brothels wanted girls with beautiful faces, and they didn't care
where the girls came from. The lowest peasant child, from the lowest and most hated family, could be
purchased.
You might consider this to be a form of slavery. I suppose the issue depends on your point of view. I will
say that during my childhood years that were spent at the brothel, I was not disciplined any differently
than how my father would treat me. If I did something bad, I was punished, if I did something good, I was
rewarded. I did try to run away once. I was around … oh … I don't know … I really don't. I was
not a little child. I must have been … I must have been thirteen. I was still an apprentice, but I was
very close to becoming an official pleasure girl. The brothel owner's youngest son had told me he wanted
to run away with me. So, I ran away with him. We were caught. I was beaten very hard, one of the worst
beatings I can remember. I wept; I called the people around me horrible insults, and they beat me more
because of it. They were careful about it, scarring me would only hurt the business. I don't know what
happened to the man I tried to run away with. I suspect he was disowned. I never heard from him again,
and he was never mentioned again.
Before this incident, I was a child, and I thought I had entered a magical fairy land. Everyone had bright
and beautiful clothing, and I was given more food than I knew I could eat. I was put under the care of an
old woman who had once been a pleasure girl. It was common to have older women, who once were
prostitutes, to look after the little girls.
I wasn't sent there to be coddled for no reason. I was a little kamuro, destined to become a prostitute,
and I was given the name Yuki. I was assigned to be an attendant for one of the most popular prostitutes
in the house. Her name was Hanamurasaki. The only other prostitute in the house who could match her in
beauty and overall earnings was named Shigeoka. Hanamurasaki already had an attendant when I
arrived. I don't remember her name. I did not become her friend.
Hanamurasaki and Shigeoka were of the highest class, fine examples of oiran courtesans. Like all the
pleasure girls in the area, they wore their obis with the knots in the front. Unlike lower classes of
pleasure girls, they wore far more layers in their robes, and far more combs and sticks in their coiffures.
Hanamurasaki was a kind mistress. Later on, I learned that she had several abortions in her life, and she
had a weakness in her heart for babies and children. I did not see very much of Shigeoka during this time,
but what I did see was not pleasant. She was a hateful creature, and tried to ruin Hanamurasaki's career
often, even tried to steal her favorite clients. One day, after I had graduated to an apprentice, something
very fortunate happened to Hanamurasaki. A wealthy nobleman had purchased her from the brothel to
be his wife. This was not an extremely common occurrence, but sometimes it happened to the occasional
lucky oiran. Hanamurasaki left her celebrity status in the red light district and happily walked into a
secure yet ordinary status as a wife. Along with her other apprentice, I was given to Shigeoka.
Shigeoka truly was cruel. She would tell lies, beat us, frame us for stealing money … eventually the
brothel owner figured it out. She took away the other girl and I and gave us to another pleasure girl,
who was fairly high class, but not at the level of Shigeoka. Then the owner took away one of Shigeoka's
apprentices and gave her to my new mistress, as punishment. I heard that Shigeoka was ordered to pay
approximately half our purchase prices to the owner, the prices were the what the owner had paid to
take us from our families.
When I officially was a pleasure girl, I decided that, since I could not find any other life to live, I would
live this life the best I could. I had been taught how to sing, dance, write poetry, arrange flowers, several
interesting things. There was no reason why I wouldn't do well.
Eventually I was the highest class, just like my former mistress Hanamurasaki. I was named Sugatano. My
scalp endured the more elaborate hairstyles, supported by wire and wax, impaled by so many combs and
sticks and other ornaments. The first time I walked in a parade, with my tall shoes, I was worried I that
I would trip and ruin my reputation.
But … I enjoyed it.
I loved painting my teeth black, like the aristocrats of the Heian period. I loved pushing ornaments into
my hair. I loved reading and writing obligatory love letters from several clients. I loved knowing that
my station was so high I could refuse some clients. I loved looking at my face, painted perfectly white,
under candlelight. I loved smoking with beautiful pipes. I loved knowing I could order my little kamuro
girls around. Most of all, I loved the envy of all the women I saw.
I loved knowing that, despite living a life I did not choose, I lived the best.
And, during the peak of my career, she came.
My favorite client … my handsome Masaru … he brought me to her.
I walked on parade, men holding umbrellas over my head, kamuro carrying boxes of sex toys … people
on the streets admiring me …
I met Masaru in a hotel room, and I found him, with her, but she wasn't a her.
It was a foreign man. I had never seen a foreign man before. He had short red hair and light brown skin,
and he was wearing foreign clothes, Western clothes. I was shocked about the very concept of a foreigner
in the section where the highest class of pleasure girl could be found.
He told me, in perfect Japanese, that I don't belong to the brothel anymore, that I belonged to him. I did
not have the time to protest. His fangs were in my throat so quickly that I couldn't even make a thought.
Dear Brunhilde … man, woman, the Queen and the King, I'm hers.
***
“Wow … so … wait … Brunhilde's a man?”
Akane nodded her head. “And a woman. When she is a man, she is King. When she is a woman, she is
Queen.”
“So . .” Lydia's mind was blank.
“Di-chan, Vlad didn't tell you about his life, before he went to Brunhilde?” She had on that little smile
again, and her voice went back to the softer tone.
“He told me some things,” Lydia told her.
“Do you know what his occupation was? Details about his childhood? What sort of father he was? What
sort of husband he was? How he met Brunhilde?”
“Does it even matter?”
Akane bit into a cookie and looked at her. There was a smile hiding behind those lovely eyes.
“I don't know what your deal is,” Lydia said.
“I'm certain that Vlad loves you dearly, but can you really trust a man who will not tell you the most
important details of his life? I worry, Di-chan?”
That was when Lydia put her tea down and decided to leave. “I don't want to see you anymore, Crazy
Bitch!” She knocked on the door to the bedroom to summon her guards.
On the way home, Akane's voice repeated in her head.
“A man who will not tell you the most important details of his life.”
***

Chapter 53
Chapter 53

A Grudge
There was going to be a social event at the country club in a few days, and Vlad wanted to annoy Lydia.
So, he got some extra sleep, and then took Lydia to a dress shop one day, around lunchtime or so.

It was fairly … well … silly, in Lydia's opinion. She had two large bodyguards enter the store with
her, and Vlad, making the total three men. The employees didn't seem to know what to think of her, but
they certainly treated her well.
Lydia was showing off a lovely blue dress to the men seated nearby when she heard a conversation
between a mother and teenage daughter nearby.
The mother was making rather harsh comments about how tall the daughter looked, and how flat-chested
she looked, and how her complexion was messy. The daughter's head was pointed down, and she was
hugging herself.
Lydia immediately bent over in Vlad's direction and whispered in his ear, “Please flirt with that girl?”
He blinked up at her.
“I'm serious. She needs the self-esteem boost.”
“Bine . .” That meant okay in this context. He got up from his seat and promptly walked over to the
teenage daughter. “Ah, what an elegant flower!” He had on his best smile.
Lydia tried on another dress. When she came back, the daughter had on a new dress, and a more confident
visage. The mother was strangely quiet. Once the mother and daughter had chosen the dress, Vlad walked
back to Lydia and whispered to her, “Are you satisfied?”
Lydia kissed his cheek.
On the way home, Lydia saw a synagogue, and she also saw a figure in a black hooded cloak, standing near
the doors. That seemed familiar. She stared through the limousine window for as long as she could see
the figure. She even turned her head as they passed on.
“Ce ai văzut?” Vlad asked her. What did you see? “E ceva ce vrei?” Is there something you want?
“I saw someone, looked kinda like the Grim Reaper.”
He didn't really react much. “Cosplayer, possibly.”
***
Lydia didn't like the recoil when it came to shooting guns.
There was a shooting range at the country club, and Prudence was using it well. She didn't seem thrilled
about it, though. She was quiet, almost robotic. Lydia tried to compliment her; Prudence was much better
at shooting than she was. Prudence merely shrugged and reloaded her gun.
The next day, Lydia received, of all the presents she could have gotten, a freaking gun permit. She didn't
even take any courses in gun safety, and she certainly hadn't applied for any permits. The thing was
simply handed to her by Brunhilde. Lydia gave her a surprised look, eyes round.
“I can make you a legal citizen of Saudi Arabia within a day or so,” Brunhilde boasted with a grin. “I'm
that good.”
“Who the fuck wants to be a legal citizen of Saudi Arabia?” Lydia rolled her eyes.
“Don't worry too much about breaking any minor gun laws; you won't get in any trouble.”
Lydia wondered if Brunhilde ran any black market-like organizations.
***
One evening, snuggling in bed with Vlad, Lydia found herself replying to the statement, “I have not seen
you with Akane lately.”
“I think she wants to steal you away from me. She tried to make me think you're not trustworthy.”
“Hm?” He swiped some hair away from her face. “That woman has known me for a long time. She has never
tried to seduce me. She had several chances, but she did not seem to consider the concept.”
“She's a bitch, and she isn't even kawaii.”
“Acest cuvânt sună ca Hawaii.” That word sounds like Hawaii.
Lydia thought that was funny. So, she giggled and kissed him. Then she said, as if singing, “Hawaii is
kawaii, don't you think so, kawaii ko?” She thought kawaii ko meant, “cute girl.” She had heard it on an
anime. Maybe it meant, “cute child.”
***
“Curvă!”
That meant slut, whore bitch, etc.
On a Sunday evening, Akane had dared to visit the mansion, bringing a bag of gifts for Lydia. Despite
Akane's protests, Vlad went through her bag. One of the gifts she had brought for Lydia was a lesbian
porn DVD. Brunhilde was there, and she certainly had no issue with lesbian porn. She did think this was
strange, but only for a few seconds, and then she blurted out, “Are you planning to seduce Lydia?!”
That was when Vlad shouted, “Curvă!”
Mihai and Prudence came to the foyer to see what was going on. Brunhilde was on a sofa. She asked
Prudence to get some snacks. She immediately obeyed.
Vlad punched Akane's lovely face, and she fell back into a wall. Akane came back at him with an elbo jab
to the throat. That was when Lydia came downstairs. She noticed the seated trio with loads of snacks,
watching. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Sit and watch,” Brunhilde said, offering her a box of cookies. Groaning, Lydia sat down in a chair next to
the sofa, refusing the box of cookies.
Vlad coughed from the assault, but he grabbed Akane's arm and twisted it behind her. His next movement
was so fast that Lydia couldn't quite see it. He got Akane on the floor, on her stomach. Akane jerked her
head up, which knocked Vlad in his nose. That caused some swelling and bleeding. He didn't let that stop
him. He used his other hand to push Akane's face into the floor, hard; her own nose might have received a
similar injury.
“Oooooooooooh . .” Lydia's face scrunched up in somewhat disgusted appreciation of the violence.
Akane managed to claw at Vlad's face, breaking skin, and that made him recoil. Akane freed herself,
flipped over so quickly that Lydia couldn't detect the movement, and shoved her knee into Vlad's stomach
just as fast.
Lydia gasped.
Vlad simply grabbed her knee and twisted her leg so hard that Akane squealed. Then he slammed his
loafer clad foot into her face. Then he took a fistful of her hair, got to his feet, and dragged her out of
the house. He literally threw her out.
“You are NOT welcome here!” he yelled. Then he slammed the door.
Brunhilde stood up. “Well, that was quick.” She brushed crumbs off of her fingers. “I'll go explain things to
her, yeah? Make sure she doesn't come sniffing around again.” She went outside.
“What the fuck was that all about?” Lydia asked.
Vlad excused himself to tend to his wounds. Mihai and Prudence looked at Lydia. “I cannot say for
certain,” Mihai said, “but it seems that Akane pissed him off.”
A few minutes later, Brunhilde came back into the house and asked to speak with Lydia in private. The
two women went into a bathroom.
Brunhilde sat down on the toilet while Lydia stood in a corner.
“I figured it out,” Brunhilde said. She was laughing a little. “She's done this with a few other people, but I
never told Vlad about it. It was never really his business.”
“Done what?” Lydia tilted her head.
“She was going to try to seduce you and have you break up with Vlad.”
Silence. A whole minute's worth of silence, Brunhilde just smiled.
“Wuh … what?” Lydia couldn't quite process that information.
“Akane is jealous of Vlad, really jealous, like … spiteful and petty jealous. Vlad is my favorite, and
Akane really isn't a beloved little baby. Vlad never really cared what she did; she's never been a threat.”
Lydia rubbed her temple with her fingers. “She didn't come on to me or anything like that.”
“She was being unusually nice to you, though, and she tried to put a little doubt in your head.”
“I think I'm gonna be sick. I really don't like girls like that.”
***

Chapter 54
Chapter 54

Sins of the Vampires

Lydia Joyce Deetz was enjoying the first day of March. The weather was mild; the sky was blue. The air
had a calmness to it. The gardens were rich and colorful. She was seated on a bench in a modern gazebo
close to the backyard of Mihai's mansion, reading an old horror novel.

She heard Beetlejuice's voice to her right, and saw the demon's face in the reflection on the silver cuff
bracelet on her right wrist. “How's the rebellion going, huh?” he asked her.
With a shrug, Lydia replied, “I don't know. Brunhilde doesn't give out details.”
“She's gonna take a lot of little vamps, if she hasn't already,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“Duh. She's been killing off her own babies!” Beetlejuice rolled his eyes and laughed at her. “Any rebels she
finds that won't be swayed, she kills them, nasty about it too.”
Lydia closed her book. “Why would she want more?”
“To keep the population from going out of whack,” explained Beetlejuice. “I still don't know why she hasn't
hurried up and chomped on that Prune.”
“She won't say,” Lydia told him.
“Well, I'll let you know right now, Babe. That doesn't make any kind of sense. Brunhilde's being wacky.”
***
That evening, Lydia, Prudence, Vlad, Mihai, and Brunhilde all stared at the television in amazement.
Earlier in the day, all around the same time, several different locations in the world were bombed. Young
adults, elderly, children, infants, were murdered. It all over every news channel. The locations were: an
apartment complex in Tokyo, another apartment complex in New York City, a real estate business in
London, another real estate business in Chicago, a mansion in France, an airport in Boston, a powerful bank
in Hong Kong, a suburb in Seoul, an apartment complex in Sydney, and finally, the Nebraska Avenue
Complex where the United States Department of Homeland Security is located. That is ironic as fuck. The
weirdest part was that those who didn't die from the explosion had their heads chopped off or were shot
in the head multiple times. Nobody had any evidence-based idea as to who was behind the attacks. There
were no survivors who could identify anyone.
As soon as Prudence heard about the attack in the U.S., she asked Mihai, “Should we move to Mexico?”
That was when Brunhilde, with her head lowered slightly and her eyes pointed up at the television,
somewhat growling, said out loud, “Don't bother with it, you twit! I'll take care of this shit.” Like an angry
child, Brunhilde got up from her seat and stomped out of the room. She even slammed a door. Then
everyone heard her scream … or rather … roar, like a combination of a livid tiger and a screaming
red fox. The sound would start off deep like a tiger's voice, and gradually change into the higher fox-like
scream. All the other people in the room decided to leave the mansion for an impromptu dinner at a
restaurant.
When it was late at night, Brunhilde had finished her fit, and she had gone somewhere else. So, the two
couples returned to the mansion with relief.
Vlad didn't seem to want to talk about what everyone else in the world was definitely talking about. It
didn't matter what Lydia said. The exception was when Lydia had finished taking a shower and joined him
in bed, and she had whined, “I'm scared. Is there gonna be another war?”
After she said that, Vlad hugged her, kissed her, ran his fingers through her dark hair. “There already is
a war,” he told her, “but these attacks were desperate ones. The rebels are trying to kill the most
powerful vampires who remain loyal to Brunhilde, as many as possible. They would come for me, but I am
too close to Brunhidle for anyone to safely approach.”
Lydia's eyes suddenly felt wetter, and she started shaking. “Hey … stay close to Brunhilde, okay? If
you died, I think … Mihai would be devastated.”
There was a pause. Vlad sighed. Lydia felt his breath and she snuggled closer to him, as tight as she could
make it.
“Lydia, you should feel safe. Brunhilde is angry. Normal people died along with the vampires, normal
little ones as well. Brunhilde has killed children and infants who were ill and beyond what medicine or
her blood could reach, in order to save them from more pain. She has killed children and infants who
were so physically mangled that they were barely alive yet suffering greatly. She does not approve of
useless killing of little ones. She is not a motherly creature, but she is firm on this. She will unleash hell;
the violence will be stopped.”
“With more violence,” said Lydia.
“Violence is the answer at times,” Vlad told her, “and anyone who tells you differently is mentally
retarded, or naïve, or a liar.”
Lydia made a hhmmmm sound.
Vlad kissed her throat and whispered to her, “Many lower class vampires will be promoted in Brunhilde's
social circle. Brunhilde will recruit more people to become vampires. There will be repairs to the bombed
locations. There will be some healing, not complete, but some. The world will not end because of this.”
“It's still scary,” she said.
“Permiteți-mi șterge temerile tale, chiar dacă aceasta va fi pentru câteva momente.” Let me erase your
fears, even if it will be for a few moments. He slipped his hand between her thighs, and Lydia forgot what
fear was.
***
In the morning, she was in the wilderness, her wild blood colored hair floating about her in a way that
just wasn't natural. There wasn't even a breeze. Brunhilde was on her back, her legs and thighs straight up
against a tree. Her eyes were closed, her face calm.
Just herself, and her thoughts, and It …
They didn't just rebel. Didn't just rebel.
Gravely.
Seriously.
Sinned in a way you may not ignore.
It's your job now. It's your job.
Your job.
You decide.
Will you intervene?

Smoky mist swirled up from the ground and danced with her hair.
She opened her eyes. A wide grin, displaying sharpened teeth, stretched away from the boundaries of her
face, blossomed.
“Many thanks from your not very humble servant,” she whispered. “That was extremely helpful
information. Now … when the fuck can I bite that Prudence chicky?”
The mist drifted back into the earth. It did not answer that last question.
Brunhilde's hair fell into a more natural position.
“Fackin blargh!” She pouted.
***
When Lydia told Beetlejuice about the attacks in all those places, Beetlejuice didn't laugh. He didn't
smile. He didn't even make a joke. He just said, “Well, it'll be over soon.”
That was the short version of what Vlad had told her.
She wondered how in the world Brunhilde could win a war so damn easily, since that's what the two men
were implying. Since the rebels managed to effectively kill a large number of loyal vampires, Brunhilde
would really have to have an excellent backup information network to find out who was behind all this.
Was it a group of people? Was it one person? Was it even a vampire?
How was Brunhilde going to win this?.
Sympathy for the Devil
***
Michael is in chains.
His arms, previously free for battle, are held by thick metal links to a medical table, feet bound in similar
fashion. The table, tilted to a near ninety-degree angle, allows him to see only darkness - though he does
not need his eyes to see that he is not alone. All around him are people; hundreds of them stare at him in
sick fanatical awe. They view him as a saint. A being beyond humanity.

He cannot free himself.

A voice from his past whispers around him, hissing and pleading for him to do this one last thing. Just for
him.
He can rest then.
Something - a feeling unknown to him - curls in the pit of his stomach.
Now his eyes are focusing and he can see, beyond the multitude of pathetic worshipers, that there is a
woman. She seems to be behind water, her form wavering and slightly blurred.
She reaches towards him, and says in a voice he should recognize, he knows he should, but cannot:
"I'm coming, Michael."
Michael Myers wakes up after this moment, every time without fail.
He is bound in a straight-jacket he does not feel the need to destroy, held to the wall behind him with
chains he cannot break. His eyes, peering through the wide slits in his pale mask, are always focused
ahead of him. Beyond the door of his cell, beyond the walls of the maximum security penitentiary, he can
feel the woman calling.
That unfamiliar emotion twists his stomach and, if he were any other person, he would be heaving against
the cold cement floor.
Michael Myers, however, is not any other person. He isn't even sure if he is, indeed, a person at all.
The door opens and though he does not flinch at the sudden light, his eyes dilate and readjust their focus
from the reoccurring dream-woman to the reoccurring woman in reality, who comes in every day to give
him tranquilizers that do not last and pills that do not work.
"Good morning, Michael," she says in a deceptively pleasant tone, "How was your nap?"
"I don't get why you talk to the fucker, Chloe. He doesn't even understand you."
Chloe, the penitentiary's best and most compassionate nurse, doesn't even glance at the security guard
who has spoken. She is always accompanied by no less than ten guards when she visits Michael, who
doesn't think ten is nearly enough.
"He's perfectly capable of understanding me. He's not stupid, Jon. He's just.. "
"An animal?"
Chloe does not respond and instead gives the silent Michael his shot - he doesn't even twitch as the
needle pierces his skin - and then feeds him a series of pills using an elongated mechanical device that
inserts the medicine into his mouth for him to swallow.
He swallows without complaint. Michael Myers never complains.
"He's not an animal," Chloe sighs, returning to the security guards.
The door is closed and Michael doesn't hear Jon's response, though he knows what it will be.
Michael returns to the dream-woman and does the one thing he has become very good at doing.
He waits.***
Michael is in chains.
He is a distant character in a strange and terrifying nightmare, bound to a medical table and forced to
look out onto the hundreds of strangers all praising his deeds and calling him a saint.

A voice she doesn't know calls out for his blood, for him to do this one last thing. Just for them.
Then he can rest.
Though his shape is wavering in her vision, and though his expression is blurred and unintelligible, she can
feel his fear.
She reaches out and calls, "I'm coming, Michael!"
Jamie Lloyd wakes up after this moment every time, without fail.
The dream terrifies her.
Maybe not the dream itself - but the feelings in it do. Her own fear.. not for herself, but for her own
uncle - the one whose actions have placed her in this life of paranoia, pills, and therapy sessions.
How can she worry about the wellbeing of the man who has killed everyone she's known and loved?
"Jamie? You up yet, hon?"
Almost everyone.
Tina is standing in her doorway, grinning at her so easily that Jamie wonders if she even remembers that
her uncle is the boogeyman.
Of course she does. She's only reminded of it every day. She's the one who created an online group for
people who had run into people like Michael; she's the one with the scar from where he stabbed her in the
shoulder; she's the one with the book out. I Spent Halloween With Michael Myers, by Tina Williams.
Jamie would've written the forward if she could think of the night without breaking into a cold sweat.
The therapy helps to make that the only thing that happens.
Seeing him kneeling there in the cell.. drawing chain through his hand as though knowing it was only
temporary..
She knows that he'll be in a prison halfway across the country for the rest of his life - a place even he
can't escape, not without a weapon or a plan.
"Jamie, you're gonna be late. Just because it's almost summer doesn't mean you can bail."
Jamie sighs and struggles into her clothes, running a brush through her long hair just enough to keep the
stray strands out of her way.
A horn honks outside the apartment and Jamie leans out the window, waving in exasperation at the black
truck parked below.
"Valerie never comes in," Tina complains in jest as Jamie comes into the living room.
"Well, you creep her out." Jamie grins and adds, "You know - you're too happy, Tina. She's. ."
"Yeah, yeah. Well, she'll grow out of it. Teenage angst is only fun for a while."
Jamie checks herself in the mirror and double-checks her backpack.
"Oh no! Where's my math-"
She spins to search for her book and finds Tina grinning at her, holding it out.
The truck honks again and they both roll their eyes.
"Hurry up, Jamie. Don't leave Val waiting, or she'll leave."
Jamie nods, slips on her shoes, and waves over her shoulder as she shuts the door and heads down the
small flight of steps into the parking lot.
Sometimes, Jamie wonders if Valerie would be her friend if she still lived with her foster parents. Not
that it matters.
The Carruthers are nice people, really great parents, but they had been Rachel's parents first.
It is, really, Jamie's fault that Rachel had died. She, not Rachel, is the niece of Michael Myers. She had
brought him to Haddonfield after ten years.
But Tina didn't hold that against her. And since she had been a legal adult at the time..
"Hey, girl, the hell are you so down for?"
Jamie jerks and looks into the cab of the truck, unaware that she had walked all this way. "No reason.
Just.. "
"Thinking," Valerie and Jamie chorus, prompting both to grin.
"Well, get the hell in! We're gonna be late."
Jamie doesn't know if Valerie is really the kind of girl Jamie would normally be friends with. Despite her
blonde hair and bright brown eyes, she's more of a weirdo to most kids at school than even Jamie.
Jamie, whose uncle was the Boogeyman.
"I heard the new Slayer album was coming out soon," Jamie says once she's sure she probably won't die
from Valerie's reckless driving.
The girls take off with screeching tires, the speedometer hitting forty before they're even out of the
parking lot.
"Yeah - it's gonna be totally awesome."
Valerie is wearing a black tee with a white silhouette ironed on the front - a Frank Sinatra shirt she had
bought off a street vendor downtown a few weeks ago.
"You know that you have to wash that shirt sometime," Jamie adds, wrinkling her nose a little.
"Yeah, well, I will once I'm done mourning."
Valerie isn't a bad person, and Jamie's been reassured of the fact hundreds of times - mostly when she
takes five extra side streets in order to avoid Lampkin Lane and the Old Myers House. She likes bands
that Jamie really doesn't - heavy metal and speed metal and all the other types of metal - and her
record time without a shower is two weeks, but Valerie isn't bad.
No matter what anyone tells Jamie, she's sure that if things had been different, she would still love to be
Valerie's friend.
They had only met because of similar interests; that is, they were both hiding in the permanently "Under
Maintenance" girl's bathroom on the second floor of the Haddonfield High.
Jamie had been ducking out of the hallways to avoid one group of kids who took an obscene amount of
pleasure in reminding her of her family tree - Valerie had been ducking out to have a cigarette and
avoid the hassle of dealing with some girls who loved to get her in trouble.
"You're that... girl. Right? Jamie."
Jamie had known that the girl wanted nothing more to say, "Your uncle is Michael Myers," but
surprisingly, she had refrained.
"I'm Valerie. Want a cig?"
Jamie had declined but they had stayed in there for the seven and a half minutes it took for Valerie to
finish her smoke. They walked back to class together - neither willing to part company with the other,
even though hanging out together definitely put the last nail in both of their social coffins.
"Valerie, you know you're great, right?" Jamie asks, looking with wide eyes to the girl who had just run
three consecutive red lights and pulled into the school parking lot with one minute to spare before the
second bell.
"Babe, everyone knows I'm great." Valerie taps the side of her nose and says, "That's why they're so
afraid."***
Michael is in chains.
The dream is different now - he has never had it during the afternoon. He is still bound, still silent, still
staring into the dark filled with people praising him, but..

The woman is not there.

His stomach churns and he hears the voice, chanting in a strange language unknown to him. He can't help
but gaze to where the woman normally is -
What will happen, now that she is not here to wake him?
A face he recognizes from his youth appears and his stomach aches now, a painful and distressing feeling.
The chanting voice is now echoed by hundreds of worshippers.
"Samhain."
"Samhain."
"Let it in, Michael."
"Let it in!"
Michael now recognizes that previously unknown feeling:
Fear.***
Michael is not awake when Chloe and her ten body guards come to give him his afternoon shot. That
alone is enough to worry the nurse, who does not feel right doping him up while he's still out -
His eyes roll under closed lids, and she's never seen him like this.
"What are you doing?" Jon exclaims as she reaches up and pulls the mask off for the second time during
his stay.
His face is not grotesque. Not to Chloe, anyway, who has seen far worse at crime scenes; it makes one man
shout, "Holy mother of God!"
He is scarred, though not nearly as heavily as he should be.
He is burned, but not nearly as badly as he should be.
Michael Myers opens his eyes and stares at the nurse, who stares back in shock.
He mouths a single word and closes his eyes, sagging in his restraints and falling into unconsciousness.
The guards call for help and Chloe gazes up to Michael.
She manages a weak, terrified smile.
"That's right, Michael. Chloe.***
"So, Jamie, what are your plans for summer?"
Jamie jerks in her seat and stares at Mr. Snyder. He's a nice old man and he always makes her feel
relatively comfortable in his class - namely, by never calling on her - but today she's pushed her luck. She
had almost dozed off, since the conversation has turned from Physics to summer, and she guesses he
must've not liked that much.

Or maybe he's just trying to make her feel a part of the conversation.
"Jamie?"
"Probably gonna go hang out with her favorite uncle," one boy chuckles from the back of the class, earning
giggles all around.
Jamie stares straight ahead.
"I'm. ."
Valerie nudges her with a pen.
"I'm staying in."
Mr. Snyder is nice enough to let her go after that, and moves on to another.
"Your uncle not up for a visit, Jamie?" the boy asks quietly, practically breathing into her hair.
"Fuck off, Paul," Valerie responds for Jamie, who is still staring straight ahead.
"Bet you're gonna take Val here with you. I bet she totally gets off on the fact that your uncle's a mass
murderer."
The boys on either side of Paul chuckle dumbly.
Paul is still quiet as he looks to Valerie, "Isn't that right? Bet that's the only reason you're friends with
creepy Jamie."
"Shut the fuck up," Valerie hisses.
One of the other boys says in a high, sing-song voice, "Creepy Jamie's only friend wants to fuck the
Boogeyman!"
"Stop it!"
The room falls silent as everyone turns to stare at Jamie, whose eyes are shut tight, and she shouts,
"Just stop it!"
She leaps from her chair as Valerie touches her shoulder and sobs loudly, running from the class as
quickly as she can.
Just like in the hallways of elementary school, when they would all chant, "Jamie's uncle's the
Boogeyman!"
Only this time, when she bursts through the front doors of the school, Rachel isn't there to pick her up
and take her to get ice cream.
Instead, she's alone.
Alone, alone, alone.
"Don't listen to Paul, Jamie."
The girl whirls to face Valerie, who is standing under the cement overhang, lighting up a cigarette.
"Let's blow off the rest of Snyder's class, okay? He's cool with it. We are only a week away from
graduating."
Jamie nods and, when her friend half-heartedly offers her the pack of cigarettes, she takes one and
lights up without hesitation.
"Say, Valerie.. " Jamie looks through the smoke between them and asks, "Can we go get some ice cream?***
"You know I don't. . I'm not your friend just because no one else is, Jamie."
Jamie looks to Valerie and forces a smile that she knows the other needs. "I know. You're friends with me
because no one else will be friends with you."

Valerie laughs and steals the cherry off of Jamie's sundae, popping it into her mouth. "That Paul, though.
He's a fucking asshole. We should.. slash his tires or something."
"That's the last thing we should do," Jamie sighs, stealing Valerie's shake and taking a long gulp. "That'd be
a violent act. Since I'm related to a psychopath, violent acts and I just don't get along in the eyes of the
law."
"Fuck the law!"
Valerie and Jamie wince and duck their heads as they realize that Deputy Jones is sitting on the other
side of the parlor, and hope that he doesn't notice them ditching school.
"Anyway. I say we go see a movie or something. Fuck sitting around doing nothing."
"Valerie.. you sit and do nothing when you watch a movie."
"Well, it's the thought that counts, you know?" Valerie leans back and looks around, completely at ease.
"Let's do something, Jamie! I'm bored."
"Drink your shake and quit complaining. I'm not.. really in the mood for movies."
"You've been out of it all day." Valerie pushes her shake to the side and asks, quietly, "Are you okay?"
"It's. . it's nothing. I'm just.. "
Jamie knows that Valerie will understand if she explains, but at the same time..
Telling someone means she can't forget about it. Someone else will know. It'll be real.
".. I've been having.. weird dreams. Just lately, for the last few weeks."
Valerie looks uneasy and Jamie isn't surprised - when your friend has survived a horribly traumatic
experience, the last thing you want to hear are their dreams about it.
"Well? What are they about?"
That's why Valerie is a good person. Jamie smiles, if a bit shakily.
"It's really only one. I.. I'm standing across this big, black room.. and there're all these people. And.. "
Gotta tell her. If not her, then who? Tina will just write it off as a nightmare.
".. On the other side of the room is.. him."
Valerie nods slowly, eyes wide and transfixed on something just beyond Jamie's left ear.
"He's. . tied down, or something. I can't see him really well. But.. but then, there's this voice.. and it's
telling him to do something - I never understand it, though." Jamie doesn't want to continue but finds
herself unable to stop. "He's. . Valerie.. He's terrified."
Valerie jerks and stares into Jamie's eyes.
"You mean.. M-Myers? Terrified?"
"It's. . I don't know. I can't see his face, but.. you know how dreams are." Jamie shudders, "They always feel
worse than they look."
"What happens in them? These - dreams. Does anything happen?"
Jamie shakes her head. "That's just it - nothing happens. I.. I reach out to him, but I always wake up. It's
so weird."
"I don't know. That sounds.. that's really creepy, Jamie."
The girl sighs and draws her spoon through the melting sundae. "Yeah. There's a reason they call me
creepy Jamie."
"Seriously, fuck them. They can call you whatever they want, but if they had been in your situation, you
know as well as I do they would've shit themselves. They're just.. jealous!"
Jamie stares at her friend and echoes weakly, "Jealous?"
"Of you. Don't you realize? You survived, Jamie. You survived, and you're not comatose in a fucking bed
somewhere. You're out, about, eating ice cream and relaxing a few days before you graduate from high
school! You even got accepted to Lafayette! Do you realize how good a school that is?"
Jamie looks to her sundae - what's left of it, at least - and nods. "I guess."
"Man, Jamie! I wish I could be half as badass as you! I don't know anyone at that damned school who
would've survived the first night - much less all the way to their eighteenth birthday!"
".. I'm not that strong, Val.. " Jamie sighs and shakes her head. "I'm not strong at all. I can't even hand out
candy at Halloween - hell, the little kids in costumes scare me! We have to take at least five side-streets
to get to school because of me.. and damn it, I turned down a good college in Oregon because I can't fly
over Colorado - just because that's where he is. I'm paranoid all the time, constantly afraid that.. "
"You're better than you were when I first met you. Therapy does lots."
The girl sighs. "So do lobotomies.. And I think that would be a lot easier on me."
Valerie looks around and then leans in, eyes set on Jamie's and expression serious and a little frightened.
"Jamie. If.. If you want - I'm not saying we should, but if you want.. We can.. you know. Go there."
".. G-Go...?"
"To the house."
Jamie feels as though someone's dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. Valerie is - she's just like all
the others - she just wants one good scare from Jamie -
"I don't mean it like - no!" Valerie grabs Jamie's hands and holds them tight, forcing her to stay in her
seat. "I don't mean it like, we go in. Just go see it. So you can.. I don't know. They always say facing your
fears helps you beat them. I don't want you to if you don't want to, but I'm willing to. That place freaks
me out, you know.. You're not the only reason I avoid Lampkin."
Jamie stares Valerie down but the other doesn't look away, doesn't blush or stammer more excuses.
Valerie doesn't do that - she says what she wants to say and then she waits.
She's good at waiting.
And that fact makes Jamie think about Michael, who is also so good at waiting -
She can't live like this anymore. Lampkin is just a street; the house is just a house. Valerie is not Michael.
Not everyone is the Boogeyman waiting to get her.
"Alright," Jamie says, standing suddenly, "Let's go. Let's go to the house."
Valerie finishes her shake and stands as well; they walk to the truck parked at the curb. After they climb
in and she turns on the engine, Valerie says, quietly, "I'm your friend, Jamie, and I'm not going to trick
you."
Jamie looks straight ahead as they take off towards forty-five Lampkin Lane.
"I know."***

II. Summer Plans

Author's Note: Please forgive the unusual amount of dialogue this fic seems to have.. Most of the
descriptors would be lame and uninteresting, so I figure we should stick to the meat. The next chapter
should have.. well, at least a little more description and action. Thank you for continuing, and please
remember to review if you have anything to say at all!
***
//Is everybody in? The ceremony is about to begin.

Wake up!
You can't remember where it was..

Had this dream stopped?

-"Awake Ghost," by The Doors

***
Forty-five Lampkin Lane is an absolute eyesore. Everyone in Haddonfield agrees: the town would be much
better off without the battered, run down house.
But they never tear it down. They never even put the idea up for vote in town hall, because of one simple,
undeniable truth:

Forty-five Lampkin Lane is Michael Myers' home, and no one knows if he would come back and slaughter
everyone if they were to take the place down. No one, for obvious reasons, wants to chance it.
Jamie has special memories of this house; she knows it better than most people living in Haddonfield. She
knows just how far the laundry chute drops; she knows just how easy the doors can be broken; she knows
just what resided in that house for so long, without anyone realizing it until Judith Myers was stabbed to
death.
They are sitting in Valerie's parked truck, and both of them are staring at the creepy old Myers place.
The lawn is bare except for weeds and there's a sign plastered to the boarded up front window: Caution:

Unsafe Conditions

Do Not Enter

Even the contractors refuse to enter the house. That sign should be behind glass.
"Jamie?"
Jamie jerks in her seat and turns to look at Valerie.
"Are you okay?"
The girl looks back to the house and finds herself wondering..
"I'm. . I'm okay. Come on."
They climb out of the truck and cautiously make their way onto the porch - Valerie is looking for falling
beams or crumbling foundations; Jamie is looking for her uncle.
"Jamie, what are you-"
She finds herself pulling the front door open, ignoring Valerie's small gasp.
The house is dustier than she remembers, and completely bare. There's dried blood on the floor from when
Michael sliced Loomis across the chest.. Jamie forces herself to look away and steps rather boldly into
the house, wandering to the main foyer and looking around, turning in place and taking it in.
"Y-You know," Valerie mumbles, "W-With a little paint.. "
"This place could be.. nice."
The two grin at each other and Jamie knows now that the house is just a house.
The two wander through the house, and Jamie remembers racing to find a way to get out, when Michael
was still chasing her - but now, now it's just an old house. Michael isn't here, and Loomis isn't using her for
bait.
There's a heavy thump and the two whirl in place, looking from the old fireplace to the kitchen.
A white mask gleams in the dim light and the Boogeyman appears, stalking forward with a death grip
around a butcher knife.
Valerie screams in real terror, and Jamie chokes on her own breath.
Her eyes narrow and with a strength she didn't know she had, she storms forward and lands a clean right
hook to the Boogeyman's face, sending him reeling with a loud swear.
She punches him again in the stomach and his exclamation is cut off with a whoosh of air - he falls to his
knees.
"You are not my uncle."
Jamie kicks out, catches him in the jaw, and sends him spiraling into the dust.
She puts a foot on his chest, presses down, and rips off his mask.
Paul's nose is bloody and she can tell she's knocked out a tooth.
"J-J-Jesus CHRIST!"
Valerie storms over and kicks Paul between the legs, making him whine and writhe on the dusty floor.
"Are you fucking insane? What the fuck are you doing? What are you, some kind of fucking psycho?"
"He's not a psycho," Jamie says evenly, glaring with pure malice at Paul, who is staring at her in fright,
"He's just a silly little boy who thinks it's funny to tease a girl who can kick his ass."
He whimpers as she kneels down on his chest, throwing the mask at him. "Thanks, Paul. That felt good."
She stands, walks to Valerie, and says, "C'mon, Val. Let's go see if Tina wants to see a movie or something."
Her fists are shaking and she's trembling now, but she refuses to let that stop her from throwing a
dazzling smile back at Paul. "I'll tell my uncle how much fun you had dressing up like him! I'm so sure he'll
be amused."
The two girls get halfway to the truck before they start stumbling, grabbing onto each other to keep
from falling down as their legs turn to rubber.
"Oh fuck," Valerie whispers once they're inside the cab and pulling away from the curb, "He's gonna be so
fucking.. I'm gonna fucking kill him." She then stares at Jamie. "Did you.. Did you know that was - that it
was just Paul?"
Jamie doesn't answer for a while, and then she whispers, "No."
She's surprised when her friend breaks out into a huge grin. "Do you realize what that means, Jamie?"
"W-What?"
Valerie claps her hands together in excitement and exclaims, "You just laid Michael Myers out!"
Jamie stares at her grinning friend and realizes that, if that had really been her uncle, neither of them
would be driving away.
"Yeah," she says, forcing a grin, "Yeah.. I guess it does."***
Michael Myers stares out over the heads of worshipers and feels nothing.
He does not know how long he has been chained to the table; he does not know where he is, nor does he
know if he'll ever escape. The chains are tight and the table thick. The voices are chanting, have been
forever, and he thinks that maybe, maybe he should give in -

The familiar rage builds in the back of his mind and he fights it off viciously. It will not be the rage that
decides when he will give up control - only he can do that!
"Let it in!" they chant.
He will not do what they ask simply because they worship him.
"Michael," the voice calls, "Do you remember Jamie?"
The crowd hisses in response to the name.
"Do you remember what you must do to her?"
He is silent.
The crowd cheers, "Kill her!"
He wonders where the woman is***
Jamie stares at her Physics book.
Really, she should be studying something else - she's been on Physics for four hours now - but she needs a
good grade to cement herself in Lafayette's class of 2002. She needs to study.

Her mind wanders over the last few days. Paul looks horrible, his lip busted up and his nose bruised and
swelling, but she had heard him telling his friends that he had simply slipped down some stairs.
"Lucky I didn't break my neck," he told them.
That kind of redeems him in her eyes.
Valerie considers their trip to the house a success and spends her time talking about Slayer and Opeth
and other bands Jamie doesn't like, but the girl has cemented her place in Jamie's heart, once and for all.
And, really, the trip has done her good.
Last night, she had talked to Tina for the first time about her book - specifically, the book's contents. She
even asked if, for the next reprint, she could write something for it.
"Of course! They've been talking another run, actually. It's doing good on the charts - can you believe it?
Almost nine years later and people are still buying it!"
Jamie does believe it. The book is, after all, being used as required texts for Psychology classes all over
the country - hell, even out of the country. She has a copy of it lying under her bed. She's not ready to
read it - not quite yet - but she will be, before too long.
She's going to leave Haddonfield and go to a place where people won't automatically associate her with
bad things.
She calls it a night and closes her book - if she fails the final tomorrow, it's not so bad. She can probably
worm her way into another college somewhere else. Or, maybe, just spend a year traveling.
She's always wanted to go to California.
Her bed is warm and inviting and she flops into it comfortably, in her sweats and completely at ease for
the first time in forever. Her dreams haven't even involved her uncle - they've been about her showing
up to class in her underwear, or about her kissing some nameless guy on a beach.
Normal teenage dreams, she thinks happily, closing her eyes and relaxing.***
Michael is terrified.
She can feel it even though he's as blurry and motionless as ever. If she were to rip his mask off right
now, he would be screaming.

"I'm coming!"
She reaches out to grab him and then freezes as the voice echoes through the room, talking to Michael.
"Don't you remember?"
Hisses from the crowd.
"Don't you remember that you have a mission?"
He stares and is petrified.
"Kill her!" the crowd screams.
His eyes focus - her eyes focus - and he stares at her with blank eyes.
"Kill her!"
Michael tilts his head and his eyes suddenly cry out, It's you.
"Kill her!"
The voice suddenly snarls, "Michael!" - but her uncle pays it no attention, holding Jamie's gaze in his own.
"Our savior!"
"He isn't your savior!" Jamie cries, and the entire room is silent.
Michael is no longer blurry around the edges - he is absolutely clear, completely visible, and she can now
see the heads turning to look at her.
"He isn't a saint!"
She finds herself walking forward, over the heads of hundreds of worshippers.
He is staring and she keeps his gaze.
"He's a murderer!"
"Murderer," the crowd whispers in awe.
"A psychopath!"
"Psychopath."
She finds herself so close to him that she could rip off his mask -
"A demon!"
"Demon!" the crowd roars.
She reaches out, clutches white latex, and pulls.
His mouth is wide and he is screaming***
Jamie finds herself awake and shrieking.
Tina rushes to her bed and grabs her shoulders, shaking her once. "Jamie!" she cries, "Jamie, what's wrong?"

She's sobbing now, and so the older woman pulls her into her arms, smoothing out her hair. "Hon, come on..
what happened?"
"I.. I... He's so scared."
Tina stiffens around Jamie and leans back, holding the girl at arm's length.
"Who's scared, honey?"
"M-M-Michael!"
Tina's eyes widen and she stares at Jamie in shock. "What - What do you mean.. Jamie, are you - are you
having those dreams again?"
Tina isn't talking about the ones she's been having lately. She means the dreams that first brought
Michael to Haddonfield, nine years ago. The ones Doctor Loomis wanted to hear. The ones where she was
Michael, and he was her.
"N-N-No. Not.. Not really."
"Then.. Then what is it, honey? Come on. You can tell me, you know that, right?"
Jamie does know. And so she tells Tina everything she can remember - from this night's dream, and the
dreams before it.
Tina watches her as she cries into her comforter and doesn't know how to help.
She hasn't had dreams like that. She's only had dreams that relived the night - she has that dream all the
time. But Jamie's telling her this - this freaky story, of Myers chained up and scared?
"It.. It's just a dream, honey," Tina says, unconvincingly.
"I knew you'd say that," Jamie sniffs, looking up with red-rimmed eyes. "I want them to be just dreams."
"Jamie.. You've been under a lot of stress. With finals coming up, and graduation - and you're starting to
move past that whole.. night. It's okay for you to have bad dreams! Hell, I'd be more worried if you
weren't."
Jamie stares and Tina looks away.
And then, Tina's little girl says something that scares her to death.
"After graduation.. I'm going to see him."
Tina turns back and gazes at Jamie fearfully.
"Jamie.. you - you can't just go see him.. he's..."
"I have to know. That he's. ."
Don't say okay, Tina prays, Please don't say okay..
"That he's not coming back."
She exhales loudly and looks at Jamie for a while.
"Are.. Are you sure?"
"Tina - I have to. I got over the house by going there with Val - we went there a few days ago," she tells
the stricken woman, "We went and one of the boys tried to scare us, dressing up like M-Michael-"
"Oh my God-!"
"But I kicked his ass, Tina!" Jamie exclaims, "I thought he was - and I still knocked him down! I need to see
him, for real. I need to.. to get rid of this. I can't keep... looking over my shoulder. I can't keep having
these dreams."
"Jamie.. if you're.. If you're sure. If you're really going - I'm not going to stop you."
Jamie sighs in relief. "Thank you, Tina."
"I'm going with you."
Jamie gasps and stares at Tina, "What - no, you can't-!"
"I am coming with you, Jamie Lloyd. You're not the only one who wants to get over this."
The two stare at each other and then, finally, Jamie nods.
"All right. Okay. We're going."
"After graduation."
"During summer."
"Okay."
They sit there in silence for a while longer, both dreading their new plan***
June fourteenth is a warm, mild day in Haddonfield - perfect weather for the graduation ceremony
taking place at Haddonfield High.
Jamie sits next to Valerie, who has blown off the seating assignments to sit next to her, and smiles as the
last few seniors are called. This is it.

Freedom.
They all throw their hats at the end of the ceremony, as is tradition, but the only one to get back their
own hat is Jamie.
Paul is holding out to her, smiling kind of awkwardly. Valerie is on edge but Jamie smiles back, taking her
hat and placing it as easily on her head as she can, considering the awkward design.
"Nice.. pumpkin," the boy says weakly, pointing to the little pumpkin pin on the end of her tassel. She had
put it there herself, as a way to metaphorically pin her post-graduation plans to herself.
".. Thanks," she responds, trying to be calm but finding herself ready to hit him. He's still an asshole, she
thinks.
"I.. Um. I'm. ." He rubs the back of his head and then says, loud enough so that the people around them can
hear, "I'm really sorry. For, you know.. being such a dick. It was.. I'm really sorry."
Valerie is glaring at him and so he adds, "And I'm sorry that I said all that stuff in class. About you and..
well. I mean, I'm sorry."
Jamie crosses her arms. "I could have killed you," she finally says. "I thought you were - I didn't realize
you weren't him. I could have killed you."
"I.. I know. That's why.. Um. I'm sorry. I don't mean it like - I mean. I'm just sorry. I was trying to.. be an
asshole."
"Paul!"
The boy looks over his shoulder to see a group of girls waving him over, and he looks back at the two in
front of him, fingers twitching along the rim of his cap.
"I'm not forgiving you," Jamie snaps, feeling as though the other is waiting for something.
"What - no! I don't. . I don't want you - well, I do want you to forgive me. But I know you won't. Not now,
anyways. Maybe later. I'll.. "
"Paul!"
"Go to your groupies," Valerie says, "Quit while you still have something to say."
Paul winces and backs away.
"I'm sorry, Jamie."
He turns and heads over to his friends, bright and smiling.
Jamie and Valerie exchange looks.
"Yeah, right," Jamie finally grins, and together they go to find Tina.***
That woman is his niece.
Michael stares through the dark and tries to see - is she still there? He can't tell. She disappeared so
suddenly.

The new chant is echoing through the dark:

"Murderer, psychopath, demon!"
"Do you see now, Michael?" the voice asks, "Do you see now? She doesn't love you, like Judith did."
Hisses.
"She calls you a murderer."
"Murderer!"
"A psychopath."
"Psychopath!"
"She even called you a demon, Michael."
The crowd shouts.
Michael stares and hopes to catch some glimpse of her. Hopes that he can find out if she was telling the
truth.
Was he really a murderer?
He had killed many people. By definition, he assumes, he would be a murderer.
A psychopath?
He doesn't know what a psychopath is. Not really. They use that word.. all the time. He never
understands its meaning.
Was he really a demon?
"Demon!"
Michael hopes that she will come back, to perhaps give them something new to chant.. because the
accusations they are throwing are making him.. angry.***

III. Blood Ties

Author's Note: In case you didn't know, I'm really

terrible at updating things on time. My apologies for taking so long with
this; I think Rob Zombie's remake of Halloween really hurt me when it
came to writing for the fandom. I think I'm over it now. Again, comments are
always appreciated.
***
"Families are
about love overcoming emotional torture."
-Matt Groening
***
Jamie, Tina, Valerie, and Valerie's mother,
Jessica, all go out for a victorious dinner at a nice little place in
Historical Downtown Haddonfield. It's one of the few places that is still
sixties-themed - most places around the town are moving on to bigger and better
decades. Jamie and Valerie enjoy the atmosphere as much as any teenager can,
while Tina and Jessica find it a nice way to celebrate their hard work.
Jessica is a good mother and doesn't mind her
girl's strange musical taste, though she does raise some fuss about her hygiene
on occasion. She doesn't mind Valerie being friends with Jamie, and has helped
Tina every so often with the more motherly duties she has trouble with, being
that she and Jamie are more like sisters than anything.
Tina likes this little place and orders as much
as she can get away with in polite company, knowing that this will be her last
time here for who knows how long. After all, Jamie's going away to college,
and she has a book she needs to start working on - a nice little romantic
comedy. She never expected to be an author but now that she's used to it,
there's no way she'll give it up.
And of course, there's that nagging voice in her
head reminding her than in two days, she and Jamie will be on a plane to Colorado.. A trip they might
never come back from.
"So, what are you two planning on doing for your
last summer?"
Jamie and Tina share a look at Jessica's
question, and then Jamie says, "We're.. staying in. But.. but first, we're
making a little.. trip."
"Really?" Valerie asks, blinking, "Why didn't
you tell me?"
"It was.. kind of spur-of-the-moment, Val,"
Tina says lightly, hiding her shaking hands in her lap. "We're just going to
do a little sight-seeing. Visit my folks in Colorado."
Valerie looks at them and Tina realizes that she
knows where Michael's being held, but thankfully the girl says nothing.
"That sounds fun," Jessica says politely, not
knowing the truth.
"Not really," Jamie says idly, taking a sip of
her soda, "They're really boring. We'll be back in.. We're not sure. But
probably soon."
Truthfully, they had just bought one way
tickets, because they didn't know what hoops they'd have to jump through to see
Michael. And there was that looming thought that maybe they won't live long enough
to make the return trip..
"Well," Valerie says, giving Jamie a heavy look,
"When you get back, we need to go do stuff. I'm not spending my summer locked
in my room."
"There's a bunch of new CDs coming out,
Valerie," Jamie responds with a grin, "I'm gonna be lucky to get you out of the
house at all!"
Tina doesn't know if they'll be around to take
Valerie out.
Jamie grabs her hand under the table and gives
it a reassuring squeeze. It'll be fine, Tina thinks, grinning as
Jessica begins to get on her daughter's case about the slowly forming
dreadlocks in her hair, Everything will be fine.
***
Valerie insists that she drives them to the
airport outside of Pontiac, and quite frankly neither Jamie nor Tina are going
to refuse her company. Its strange how, in a few short days, the one with the
least sense on her has become the voice of reason.
"You guys packed everything, right?"
Valerie asks for the seventh time.
"Yeah, Val," Jamie answers, also for the seventh
time.
"Clothes, cigarettes?"
Tina nods and adds, "A big old can of Mace and
two handguns. They should slip through security."
Valerie shrugs. "You never know. If they ask,
what are you gonna say?"
"We're visiting family," Jamie deadpans.
"Do you two even know how you're going to get in?
Can you get in? And are you seriously expecting to bring guns into a
prison?"
"No, no, and not really."
Valerie shakes her head in disbelief. "I didn't
know that taking you to the house would set you off like this, Jamie. I hope
you two know what you're doing."
"No, not really," Jamie repeats, slumping down
in her seat. "Wake me up when we're at the airport."
Valerie sighs and shakes her head again,
skimming through her Rolling Stones CD to find something Jamie can sleep to.
Tina puts an arm over Jamie's shoulders and hopes that they won't need the guns
at all.
***
Chloe sighs and stares blankly at the clipboard
in her hand. She wishes the words would rearrange themselves in an order she
can decipher, so that she can help Michael.. but they refuse, staying in their
boxes and giving no answers.
Myers, Michael Audrey. Life sentence for
viciously murdering fifteen known victims, with more possible. Jesus,
Chloe sighs, finally putting the board away, The only reason he's here is
because he tried to kill his niece and failed. If he had succeeded..
Michael has been comatose for almost two weeks
now, ever since he jerked awake calling her name.
She still can't believe it. He knows her name.
Does that scare her, or please her? She's not
sure. But at least now, she knows that he's receptive to conversation. Chew
on that, Jon.
"Michael," Chloe says quietly, leaning over the
medical bed the man is restrained against - they wouldn't even let him have a
real hospital bed, just this old metal table. "Michael, I know you're getting
better. Why are you asleep now?"
She runs a hand through her hair and shakes her
head. His sudden coma makes no scientific sense - it's not even a real fucking
coma, for Christ's sake! It's just.. like a nap. A very long sleep.
She laughs quietly, "Michael, I hope you're not
playing Sleeping Beauty, because I doubt anyone's going to be kissing you to
wake you up."
Chloe turns to find her scheduled visits for the
rest of the day and misses Michael's hand, which clenches, just slightly. She
even misses his mouthing of the name "Jamie."
***
Something is different now.
She is no longer behind that strange and blurry
veil that had made Michael impossible to see clearly. The voices are perfectly
clear now, and she realizes that they are chanting exactly what they should be
-
And that chant is scaring her uncle more than
anything else.
His eyes are not wide, and he is not screaming
silently over the crowd, but she can feel his fear. His eyes have already
latched onto hers and she's only been here for mere seconds - he's so desperate.
Jamie, he mouths, Jamie, Jamie, Jamie.
"She doesn't love you, Michael," the voice says
from the black pit of worshipers, "Not like Judith. You know what you must
do."
"Kill her!" the crowd shrieks.
Michael lurches suddenly and his eyes roll.
"Let it in, Michael - why do you fight it?"
"Let it in!"
His head bangs loudly against the metal table
and he mouths her name again, desperately. Then, no, no, no. Jamie. No.
"Stop it!" she shouts, but the crowd is still
chanting, cheering at Michael, who is banging his head against the table over
and over, eyes shutting tightly and then widening, looking blindly upwards.
"Let him go! Stop it!"
The crowd falls silent, but this time they are
vicious and angry, not awestruck.
She races overhead and feels phantom hands
grabbing at her ankles.
"I'm coming, Michael, I really am!"
He sags in his bindings and stares up at her.
He mouths, Jamie, no, no, no. Angry, no, no, no. Then, as she nearly
reaches him, he mouths, Chloe.
She blinks - taking maybe a split second - and
finds herself staring at Tina, who is holding on to her tightly. The other
passengers around them are staring uneasily.
"T-T-Tina!"
Her friend hushes her and smoothes back her
hair; Jamie wonders what she's done now.
"You were screaming, honey. Don't worry, you're
awake now."
Jamie shudders and realizes that something is
going horribly wrong. The only problem is - she doesn't know if her visit will
help or hurt her uncle fight them off.
She doesn't want to know who they are.
***
Michael feels the rage seeping through his mind
and Jamie's gone now - how can he not accept it when she's not there to tell
him she's coming, she's not coming, the voice says so and even though he's all
grown up that voice is still so much bigger than him -
He hates the rage so much but it makes
everything easier to handle, much easier than when he's alone and in his cell,
looking out at a door that never opens, thinking of people who can never come back -
No, no, no.
***
They land in Colorado Springs in the evening and
immediately take a shuttle to the nearby Days Inn, where Tina had made them
reservations for a week. The place seems to be permanently under booked so
there should be no issues with getting an extension - which they probably won't
need.
Jamie is restless so they sit on their beds and
watch a pay-per-view movie - some old chick-flick that helps them get their
minds off their impending visit to the prison, even if just for an hour or so.
They order overpriced burgers for dinner and
call it a night sometime between midnight and one in the morning, and though
Tina finds sleep fairly easy to come by, Jamie stays up. She dreads the dreams
she knows she will have and the last thing she wants is to wake Tina up by
screaming.. But she knows also that if she isn't rested tomorrow, if anything
goes wrong she might not be able to fight.
Her eyes shut slowly, resignedly, and she curls
up under the blankets, hoping that maybe tonight she'll be left alone.
***
The dark pit is empty and utterly silent.
She is where she has always been, standing
across the room from her uncle, who is still bound to the metal table, but
something is horribly wrong.
She moves quietly and quickly from her place to
the raised dais Michael is on, and takes in his appearance with fear and
revulsion. He is sagging in his restraints, eyes glazed and head drooping on
his shoulder, tongue lolling from his mouth as he pants. The sound of his breath is strained and weak.
".. Michael?" she whispers, stepping forward,
closer now with no fear. She can't be afraid of him, not any more. "Uncle?"
"You are far too close, little girl."
The voice echoes from around them and Michael
twitches, eyes almost reaching Jamie's but not quite.
"You have been making our duties far more
difficult than they should have been. If only poor little Michael had killed
you all those years ago.. he wouldn't be suffering like this. Wouldn't be
fighting me."
The voice chuckles now, and Jamie steps near the
edge of the dais, confused and a little scared.
"But in the end, you've done nothing but delay the inevitable. Michael!"
The bonds on Michael's table slip away, falling
to the ground soundlessly. The Shape lurches forward on unsteady feet and
slowly rises to full height, eyes blank and mouth set in a firm line, though
his breathing is still labored.
"You know what you must do, Michael.. Kill her
here - and then you may return to do it all over again."
The Shape slowly moves forward and, being on the
edge of the platform, Jamie has nowhere to go. His face is whiter now and she
realizes that the mask - the mask is coming back -
He reaches his arms out, hands ready to wrap
around her neck like a vice, and she reaches out and grabs his wrists tightly.
She knows she can't stop him, if he's about to kill her, but still -
"Uncle!" she cries, feeling his hands touch
skin.
He hesitates.
"Michael," Jamie whispers, "I'm - I'm almost
there, please - just - I'm almost to you! Don't let him - don't let it.. "
"Michael!" the voice roars.
He stares at her and then, with a force she
didn't expect, he shoves himself away from her, grabbing his head and letting
out a soundless shriek, back hitting the table and restraints sliding back into
place.
He chokes, struggles, pulls at the restraints
but they do not budge, and his face - no longer pale and mask-like - contorts
in animalistic fear, his fight-or-flight response triggered to no avail.
"Michael-!"
He turns to her and says, soundlessly, Jamie,
hurry, no no no, hurry hurry.
And then he screams aloud.
***
Tina wakes up to Jamie shaking her violently -
the clock on the desk across from her bed reads four-twenty-three. Barely
even four hours of sleep... How can she do it?
"Jamie.. it's like four in the-"
"We have to go now!"
Tina sits up and stares at Jamie in confusion.
"What do you mean, now? It's four in the morning, Jamie - there won't be
anyone there."
"We have to! He's - they're - he's in trouble,
I need to - there's a woman, Chloe, she must be - we need to go now,
Tina!"
"What do you mean - who's in trouble? Who's
Chloe?" Jamie is near hyperventilating so the older woman grabs her arms
firmly and exclaims, "Jesus, Jamie, calm down and talk to me!"
Jamie takes deep breaths and falls gracelessly
back to sit on her bed, feet tapping in anxiousness. "Michael. He's... They
have him. They almost have him and - and he said hurry. He needs -
Tina!"
Tina knows that her face must be showing all the
fear in her soul, but she can't help it. Her little girl is talking like -
like a maniac. Like that Loomis guy, but instead of wanting Michael dead,
she wants him..
"Tina, I know it sounds - I know I sound insane
but you've gotta listen to me!"
".. Okay. Okay, I'm all ears."
Jamie nearly jumps off the bed but forces
herself down, feet skimming the carpet as she swings them back and forth.
"It's. . he needs me, Tina, and.. And I think
if we don't get there, that - he's going to kill again."
"Jesus!" Tina breathes, eyes widening even more
than they already are.
"It's. . I don't know how to explain it,
but.. He doesn't want to. I can't tell you why, I can't get into his head
like.. like before. But he told me to hurry, Tina, and they're trying to make
him.. angry again. I don't know, Tina. I'm sorry; I can't explain it
to you any better than that. Just.. you've got to believe me!"
Tina stands slowly, pacing to the television and
back again. "He told you? But.. Jamie, he's. . He doesn't talk."
The little girl sighs and says, "When I was..
when I couldn't talk, I learned how syllables look when you say them. It's
easier for people to read your lips when you know how words look. And he
said.. He said, 'Jamie, hurry, no no no.'"
"That could mean - that could mean don't
hurry! That could mean don't come!"
"Its how you lay the words out. Tina, you
write, you know that."
Tina does know. And she knows that
they're leaving the hotel tonight. But it doesn't mean she can't try to deny
it - deny her ward's connection to her manic uncle, deny her intelligence and
her knowledge of what's going on.
"Get dressed," she says finally, "We'll talk in
the car."
Jamie leaps to her suitcase and Tina knows
they've made a bad choice in coming to Colorado.
***
Chloe struggles around the surge of orderlies,
going for the tranquilizers in the top right cabinet. Michael had started to
have a seizure only a moment ago, and the room is already filled with guards,
doctors, psychiatrists and nurses, all trying to do six different things at
once. She knows that some of them are far more qualified than her to deal with
Michael, but..
Well, he knows her name, not theirs.
"Out of my way!" she shrieks, pushing through
the mass of people around the table as she readies a shot, "Clear out, clear
out!"
"Rask, as your superior-!"
She knocks her own boss aside and administers an
unhealthily large dose of tranquilizer to Michael, bringing him slowly down
from his spasms before he chokes on his own tongue. She whirls, faces the crowd
of gaping faces, and points with a shaking finger to the door.
"Out."
All but two guards, another nurse, and her boss
leave, shuffling out with wary glances behind them.
"Chloe Pierson Rask, where did you get the nerve
to take over in the middle of a high-tension situation?"
Chloe turns, checks Michael's pulse, and tosses
over her shoulder, "No one else was." She adds, once she's certain Michael's
spasms have stopped for the time-being, "Besides, I just saved our patient from
choking on his own tongue. Let's not be too quick to judge my actions."
"Your actions aren't what's worrying me - I
think you're getting.. attached to this case."
"What do you mean, attached? This is
Michael Myers - the last thing he needs is someone attached to him."
One of the guards quips, "We all know what
happens to those people."
Before Chloe or her boss can reply, however,
there's a strange noise down the hall. It very nearly sounds like gunshots.
"What on Earth-?"
The alarms sweep through the medical ward, auxiliary
warning lights flashing red and sirens wailing from the intercoms, and Chloe
sees Michael twitch. She's not sure how he can possibly move, after the amount
of tranquilizers he was given, but there's no time to contemplate it; Jon is
grabbing her, and she and her boss are being escorted out of the ward.
"We can't just leave him-!"
"We can and we will. We deserve to live,
not him!"
Chloe is dragged through the halls away from her
charge, who twitches again and opens his eyes.
".. Jamie.. "