Depravity (4 page)

The man snatched from the arms of his real mother looked down at the sleeping pair and smiled. They looked so sweet, all curled up together and holding hands. The boy didn't look like anyone's sex-toy. It looked like his sister had found her own cuddly teddy bear. Kevin followed the line of the girl's other arm and discovered her hand on the boy's penis, her tiny fingers gripping his thick shaft. Kevin choked back a chuckle. So much for that idea. Had the boy worn her out, or had she exhausted him? He felt a pang of jealousy, wishing he could be in the new arrival's place.

He quietly set the tray on the floor and crept back towards the stairs, then again, maybe not. His sexual prowess had never been that high. As soon as he had orgasmed the once, Kevin just wanted to go to sleep. It usually took him at least another two more days until the urges came back. 

5

Kevin sat back down in his favourite armchair, noting two glasses were still on the table. He could have seriously pinched himself for leaving signs that he had earlier company on display. It didn't matter that this room was off limits to guests. He had kids staying in the hotel and Mr Morris had been in the business long enough to understand that areas supposedly off limits attracted little fingers like jam drew wasps.

Still, it was late, the kid should be sleeping by now, and sleep was one task that Kevin believed he was owed. It had been a difficult day. Most days were hard nowadays, especially with no staff to help him out. Kevin fought the urge to shut his eyes and took his guest's glass back over to the cabinet, he gave it a quick wipe and hung it upside down, before returning to his chair. With that task complete, Kevin sat back down and poured himself a celebratory glass of wine. The day had been a difficult one but at least he could relax knowing tomorrow would be easier. He only needed to convince the Sanderson's to call back into the hotel on their way home. He didn't think that task would present a problem.

“The future's so bright, I gotta wear shades.”

Mary Collins's son frowned, wondering why he had just said that. He'd heard that before, was it a line from an old song? He swallowed a mouthful of wine, he was tired, that's all.  Kevin felt his eyelids dropping down, he didn't fight the action.

As Kevin dozed, he allowed his mind to ponder over the only hurdle in his otherwise most excellent plan. Where would he keep the living female Sanderson until he was ready to end her existence? The cellar was obviously off limits. He dreaded to think what would happen if another woman joined his two guests. His only other option would be to keep her in the old section of the hotel, where his parents once lived. Kevin had blocked off that part of the building once his dad was dead.

It wasn't an ideal option but it was workable. He would need to fetch the spare chain from the garage, the one that was once around his ankles. Kevin did not want to damage the woman. He wanted her whole. Kevin brought back the memory of her easy smile at the dinner table earlier, imagining just how fantastic it would be to wake up to that every morning. Her husband was such a lucky man. Kevin decided to make him suffer first, just out of spite. So it would spoil the meat, so what? It just meant that the kids in the cellar would gobble up their food so quickly, meaning he'd have more time to play with the woman.

Could she grow to love him? He'd like that. Waking up to her lovely smile every morning, before the pretty lady glided her naked body over him and did rude things to him. That sounded like perfection. Kevin knew the reality of the situation though. He'd wake up alone, just like every other morning. If he wanted to do rude things to her, he'd have to cross the hallway and enter his parent's old quarters. Still a more preferable option to his present situation. Waking up with the urge meant having to get dressed, before travelling throughout half the hotel's corridors and rooms in order to get to the cellar. On most mornings, by the time he reached the door, his urge had left him.

Thanks to his rash decision, even that option was now off the table.

The tantalising thought that the woman might grow to love him grew like a soap bubble, but soap bubbles never last long before they pop. Another mind, buried deep in Kevin's dozing brain made sure that this idea didn't anchor itself. The boy had already committed a huge mistake by allowing a meal to live already.

The other mind gently steered Kevin's sleeping thoughts to something far more pleasurable, the memory of his first ever kill.

Chapter Four

More trouble for Michael

1

At just past seven o'clock on the following morning, while five miles away, on the edge of town, a hotel owner was still dreaming of his first unsupervised kill and dismemberment, Michael Sandhurst snapped open his eyes.

He too had dreamed but unlike the hotel owner, his dreams hadn't been of fond nostalgic memories. Michael's sleeping mind took him to a grimy two bedroomed apartment, close to the border of Scotland. He had never seen the inside of the tenement block where his wife was born, but as he walked across the threadbare brown carpet, stained with old dog shit, spilled beer and the occasional damp patch, (he knew that this could have been either human or dog piss) he knew that this was exactly how Jodie remembered the life she fled from.

He counted three doors, two in front of him and one on his left. Michael wanted to take the left door, knowing that would lead him down a narrow corridor, one side piled with tied up bundles of old newspapers, the other side empty, apart from a Victorian dresser, its glass front broken and lost, the insides full of darts and pool trophy cups. The corridor ended at the pale blue door that led out onto a balcony, overseeing a concrete communal square. Getting out of this evil place was his only thought.

Jodie wasn't here, neither were any of her vile family. Something else now wanted to enter this place, something far more rancid than Jodie's thuggish father, who had an unhealthy attraction to his only daughter.

Michael moaned in frustration when he found that his feet had ceased to function. He fearfully tipped his head down. His eyes gliding past crushed lager cans and half eaten takeaway boxes, their cold contents congealing on the floor. “No way!” he uttered. “This can't be happening.”

The carpet fibres had grown up and over his black boots, stopping him from moving. The fibres hadn't stopped expanding. They twisted and wound around his ankles, reaching up and past his knees. The smell of old tobacco and mould accompanied the advance. He slammed his hand over his mouth, instinctively knowing their destination, as the detritus scattered across the carpet now included human bones and scraps of shredded clothing.

His eyes bulged in their sockets as he saw narrow cracks expand from the corner of the walls, each one spreading along the top edges of the ceilings. They opened up and syrupy dark red fluid bubbled out from the cracks and flowed in long narrow streams down the stained pastel wallpaper. The jellied substance also ran along the ceiling, heading towards the two doors in front of him. As he moaned, the sounds muffled by his fingers, Michael saw the one of the doors creak inwards.

Before the interior presented itself, Michael's waking mind had stepped in and dragged him back to reality. While he ran his hand over two-day stubble, Michael decided to treat his consciousness to a well-deserved steak dinner. He didn't know what was waiting for him behind that door but he guessed that it would have been a far worse fate than finding that living carpet growing into his mouth.

“Come on, Jodie.” He murmured, gently rocking the sleeping body beside him. “Time to wake up, beautiful. The sun is shining, and the sky is empty of clouds.”

Michael sat up, feeling surprisingly good, considering he slept downstairs  on the floor. Their two guests were stirring as well. Both Fern and Trevor and managed to get comfortable on the sofa, a task that Michael hadn't believed possible. He'd only fallen asleep on that a couple of times and on both occasions, he'd woken up feeling like somebody had attempted to fold him into a small suitcase.

They had declined the offer of the spare bedroom, stating that if their hosts were going to rough it, then they were too. Jodie had suggested they sleep in the living room, a few minutes after Trevor and Michael had returned. Both Trevor and himself had made a beeline for the beer and were already halfway through their first cans. Not actually moving from the beer mountain had definite appeal.

2

Between their new house and the main road that led into the small town, lay half a mile of rough dirt track. It was only ten minutes on foot to walk the distance, and hardly any time by car. Both Michael and Jodie had done the walk. Jodie's idea of course, stating that it was another one of those first moment experiences.

Their last pleasant stroll, hand in hand with his beautiful wife had passed through his mind as he struggled to keep his balance on the water-logged wet mud path whilst carrying the sleeping girl tight against his chest.

Three hours had passed since Maddie's unexplained episode (He didn't buy Fern's explanation that she'd only had a fit) and two hours since the rains had stopped. From the living room window they had watched the terrible weather turn that dirt path into a raging mud stream. Nobody would be going anywhere until some of that water had subsided.

The burden hadn't been his alone to carry, Trevor had taken the girl off him about halfway down, a task he'd been silently grateful for. The girl wasn't that heavy, and although the route was difficult, if hadn't been much of a challenge. The appreciation came from having such an attractive girl in his arms. Her close proximity had played havoc with his distracted mind.

Having her so close to him had awoken Michael's intense hormones and they'd hadn't wanted to slip away without whispering a few lewd suggestions. Her soft lips were just inches from his head and the faint scent of lemon had been tickling his nose ever since he had picked her up. It hadn't been too much of a jump to imagine her in the shower, slowly rubbing gel up and down those young, firm legs, her slender fingers caressing her inner thighs, letting out a quiet moan when the tips of those fingers reached a little higher. He then saw himself opening the shower cubicle, her mouth opening to allow that tongue to run over her wet lips, as her hungry eyes roved across his firm body, just before she gripped his buttocks and dropped to her knees...

Jesus! Michael's own body had shaken and he'd almost dropped the girl. Thankfully his mate hadn't noticed the change, he was too busy staring at the sky, remarking at the rapid change in the weather. The black clouds had gone, showing the pair of them the brilliant star-filled sky, unfettered by town and city light.

Seeing those blue flashing lights, waiting for them had been such a relief. After explaining to the paramedics and watching the ambulance whisk the girl off to hospital, they had begun their journey back to the house. Their conversations ranged from the folly of not investing in a four-wheel drive vehicle before moving to the country, to getting this ground drained and tarmacked. Not once had the topic turned to Maddie's collapse and Michael had certainly not broached the subject of how it felt to having a gorgeous, half naked teenager's arm wrapped around his neck.

3

The more he had drank, the worse his paranoia became. It was obvious that Maddie knew about Jodie's abortion, and  that her own vile father had been the one who'd raped her. There was no way that the girl could have known. Until a few weeks ago, neither of them knew Maddie from Adam. The only available option was that this girl, during that episode had connected to his wife on another level, that she'd been able to snatch Jodie's thoughts straight out of her head.

A sober Michael wouldn't have even tolerated such nonsense. Shit like that belonged in third rate horror movies. After a crate of consumed beer, sober was one condition that had left his system a while ago. He popped the tab on his next beer and tried to construct a workable solution to ensuring the girl didn't play this trick again. Both Trevor and Fern were given hints about his beautiful wife's dark past, but nothing specific. He intended to keep it that way. Secrets needed to stay buried.

If she had been able to pluck those thoughts out of Jodie, what was stopping her from doing that to him? His secrets couldn't come out under any circumstances. How would Jodie cope if she ever discovered that the whole reason as to why he was so confident that her brother and father wouldn't track her down was that he had murdered them?

4

In Jodie's eyes, her older brother, Malcolm, was just as much a victim as she was. She confided in Michael that he had once told her that he was so glad that he hadn't been born a girl as well. It would have been double the fun for dad. Even so, being born male hadn't stopped dad from brutalising the boy. Malcolm had suffered numerous falls down the stairs as he grew up.

Michael understood the psychological implications of his father's savagery and how it had tainted the boy's attitude as he emerged from boy to teen and finally into a man. This didn't stop Michael from following through with his plans.

No matter which way he approached this problem, Michael just couldn't accept that Malcolm's father was the boy's only influence in his life. It's not as if the monster kept the pair of them locked in cages during their childhood years, meaning Malcolm should have learned the concept of right and wrong. The man wasn't a complete moron. It wouldn't have taken long to see what daddy did to his sister was very wrong. Michael might have allowed the man to live if he'd only stayed silent regarding the family's deep secret. What sealed his fate was that as soon as Daddy allowed it, the dirty little bastard joined with the vile abuse of Jodie.

Michael's own sense of morality couldn't allow this man to continue living.

Thanks to his intervention, he'd denied that vile family their sex-toy, but just because little sister had unexpectedly disappeared, didn't mean that either of them would have ceased their craving. They could have already have  another poor girl  lined up.

He could have gone to the police, but because of his family's standing the whole trial would have turned into a media circus. The heir to the family fortune falls for some working class girl, who's been raped by both her father and brother. They wouldn't have been out of the newspapers for weeks. Michael had no doubt that by the time it had finished, those two would be locked up. That would have been great, how long would those two evil cunts have lasted inside? He would have given it a week before another prisoner would have found a way to sprinkle rat poison in their meals.

It all sounded like the only sensible choice until you attempted to see the experience through Jodie's eyes. The very thought of being asked to re-live those traumatic experiences would have killed the poor girl, literally. Jodie was one of the strongest people he knew but even she wouldn't have survived that. No, his way was the best.

Finding the two men was a piece of cake. It didn't really matter that they had moved out of their home town and started new lives after Michael had taken Jodie away. The dumb fuckers hadn't even bothered to change their names.

Jodie's brother had found employment in a bookmakers. He cleaned the counters, swept up, as well as acting as an unofficial security guard. From Michael's observations, he seemed to spend most of his time chatting to the regulars and drinking soft drinks from the vending machine.

Malcolm Hamilton's existence came to an abrupt end on the 8
th
of October at two in the morning when he had choked on his vomit. The coroner's report stated that his death was accidental.

5

Michael hadn't taken any pleasure in watching the pissed up thug choke to death. For almost one hour, he sat above Malcolm, waiting for the inevitable to happen. Putting away so much alcohol followed by a dodgy takeaway (even dodgier as Michael had spiked his foil container with dog hair) the fool's stomach was bound to want to reject the churned up contents.

He'd almost missed the finale by dozing off. Michael had all but given up on trying to keep up to Malcolm's drinking speed, even so, he had supped far more than he was used to. The man's brown eyes had snapped open, and a slurred speech about not feeling too great had slipped out of his mouth. Michael had to be quick to make sure nothing else slipped out of that hole. He leaned forward and placed his gloved hands over the man's ears and held him still, watching liquid lumps of regurgitated lamb keema and beer shoot out of his nostrils and spill across the rim of the man's mouth.

The man's struggles had lasted less than a minute. Michael counted himself a lucky individual, although he did believe his plan would be successful, he still wasn't too sure that everything would stay on track. Michael did have back up. He had secreted a razor sharp knife in his inside pocket (A memento from his army officer training) thankfully, that stayed hidden, using that would have caused complications.

Taking Malcolm Hamilton out of society wasn't that much different as destroying a dangerous dog. It had to be done so it wouldn't hurt anyone else. It wasn't revenge or retribution, just a necessity.

Revenge came later. He had taken a great deal of pleasure in eliminating his wife's father. Thanks to his son's drunken rambling, Michael now knew exactly where to find the man. At least he thought he did. As the unpleasant night wore on, Malcolm's speech became more and more incoherent. He'd never known an individual who was able to hold his drink as much as Malcolm. Getting that bastard totally pissed up had proven to be an expensive exercise.

Albert Hamilton wouldn't have the pleasure of going to his grave drunk. Michael made very sure that the monster paid for his crimes against his beautiful daughter. He needed to suffer the torment that he'd put Jodie through for all those years.

It didn't shock Michael to find Malcolm didn't live that far from daddy. A quick search through the grimy flat before he left, confirmed that the drunken thug had been telling the truth about the whereabouts of good old Albert. He'd dug out two recent letters addressed to daddy as well as photographs showing the old man with his arms around a pretty girl in her twenties.