Stolen Hood

by The Grim Sisters

  “Where the fuck have you been?” I growl, and the ass, aka Doogie Houser because he has a baby face and looks way too young to be a doctor, but we’ve been assured he’s the best, doesn’t even lose his smile.

  “Sounds like someone is ready to push,” he says with an amused voice.

  I’m prepared to cuss him out when another contraction hits, and I lean over, biting Rich in the thigh. Poor man is going to have my teeth marks all over him, but I’ll give him credit. Not once did he complain, he’s just took everything I gave him. I vaguely feel the nurse adjust my legs by time the contraction is over. When I open my eyes, Dr. Nelson is rolling up the blanket and checking my down under.

  “I can see the top of the baby’s head. On your next contraction, I need you to hold your breath and push as hard as you can,” he replies.

  No problem, I can do that. Anything to get this kid out.

  Curiosity is a bitch and when John peers down to check out for himself what the doctor just said, his eyes widen before he faints. What the ever loving fuck? He acts like it’s his pussy pushing out a human being. He rescues me from a serial killer, but me pushing our baby out is his limit? Archie helps John off the floor and just tosses him onto the chair, leaving him there. Another contraction hits and doing as the doctor said, I hold my breath and push.

  Because of the pressure over having a boy my first go, I did not want to know the sex of the baby, so no one knew what we were having until three contractions later when I pushed out a healthy 7lb 8oz baby boy who came into the world screaming his little head off, letting everyone know he’s here. After he was cleaned off and placed on my chest, I peered down at the little tuff of auburn hair and a sense of completeness comes over me. Kissing the top of his head, a tear slips down my throat, and more follows when he blinks and silver grey eyes look up at me, the same color as his father.

  “Welcome to the world Robin,” I whisper against his temple.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Archie

  Early Spring

  There is absolutely no reason for me to be nervous about this wedding. No really, its fucking ridiculous after everything we’ve been through. I mean shit, we’ve been through a wedding and have a child, putting aside the serial killer scenario. I should have no room left for nerves.

  Yet, here I am standing and waiting for the ceremony to start. Nervous. John is as relaxed as they fucking come, his tone somewhat tired from last night. We switched off getting up in the middle of the night for Robin and he hasn’t been back to sleep after having the last watch. I have to admit, having four people around to raise a kid is a hell of a lot easier than having two. At least, I imagine so.

  That’s not the only thing that has changed though. No, all of us have become impossibly closer, which was something I never thought I would ever say about Richard or John. The things you learn about a person from living with them are extensive and I found the four of us falling into a really easy pattern. One that revolved around Robyn. It isn’t surprising, she’s always been the center of everything for me, and it seems the same holds true for these other men.

  I know this wedding is symbolic, but it’s important to me. I have put extensive effort into creating the wedding she wrote about in her journal while in highschool. Yeah I know, I’m a creep, but I have been crazy about the woman for far too long to not have gone and looked through her fucking diary. She’s been insisting on waiting till spring, stating she wanted her figure back before the ceremony. Something that confused the fucking hell out of the three of us. I wasn’t positive what weight she wanted to lose, but if she’s more comfortable, I’m not about to deny her that.

  It is a stunning Sunday morning, and the weather in New York is far warmer than usual in early March. The garden has fresh dew drops and the rose vine arch the three of us were standing under has blossomed into a stunning bright red. It reminds me of her hair, which I fucking love. It’s a casual wedding, but extremely intimate, with all four of our families here and seated in plush comfortable garden couches that face the small pavillion we’re standing on. Both sides of the space have a small wall crawling with ivy, providing privacy. The three of us are wearing matching button downs and dress pants, my sleeves rolled to my forearms as I try to not fidget with my watch.

  “Archie,” John speaks with a chuckle. “You need to calm down man.”

  I offer him a dry look as a small sound, a laugh, has me looking up to see Sheriff holding Robin. His thick auburn waves are nearly tawny in this light, and the chubby cheeked smile he offers me has my heart warming. I thought having children would be a weird situation between the four of us, but it’s anything but that. While we know Robin is Richard’s biological child without a fucking doubt, as he reminds us constantly, he’s also my son and John’s. I love that kid.

  I’m also eager as fuck to give that kid some siblings.

  John and I weren’t planning this one out though, we decided we would just fucking see what happened. After all, we weren’t in a rush anymore.

  We have one of our family friends stand in as the coordinator, and when he steps up, the group of people attending our wedding, go quiet. The music begins and my smile unintentionally grows, the small garden gate opens to reveal Robyn with her father.

  The woman is fucking stunning.

  Her hair, somehow growing impossibly longer, is curled and laid underneath a floral crown that matches the off the shoulder lace light weight dress she’s wearing. The woman is fucking ethereal. Her lips break into a smile as she meets each of our eyes and her father offers her a kiss to the temple. Our Robyn, a fucking wonderful mother unsurprisingly, takes the time to kiss our son before coming to stand in front of the attendants with us.

  The ceremony is simple, yet exactly what the four of us needed. Our vows worked to incorporate all four of us as we promise to love one another through anything. I see our Robyn tearing up as Richard finishes his part and I nearly snicker. I have no idea what fucking tie he has to her emotions, but if I bring out the light hearted side to Robyn, and John her inner strength we all know she has, Richard brings out the emotional as fuck side. It actually makes me irrationally happy how all three of us seem to cater to what she needs no matter what.

  Usually, we do rings at this part. Instead, because she isn’t taking off that other fucking ring no matter what, I bring out a small handcarved wooden box that actually arrived only a few days ago. Robyn seem honestly confused until John takes the box from me and I take her delicate wrist, placing a delicate light weight entwined metal bracelet that Richard and I ordered for her. There are three strands in the twisted structure, gold, silver, and rose-gold, all of them intertwined and all of them for her. Just like the three of us.

  I have to admit, I didn’t expect her to cry. I chuckle as she breaks rank from the ceremony and begins to pepper each of us with kisses and incites an amused yet affectionate laugh from everyone in the crowd. After all, we aren’t exactly the type to follow rules.

  The reception is comfortable, held in her father’s ballroom at his estate. Somehow the woman has endless energy. and I sit comfortably watching her twirl our son around the dance floor. I inhale, feeling as though everything is perfect in this moment.

  It’s going to be even fucking better once she realizes what we have waiting for her tonight.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Robyn

  My husbands are the fucking sweetest. I mean truly. Not only has today been perfect, the ceremony, the people attending, everything, but our little Robin has even gone to sleep without a fuss. I blame Richard. The man, of course when he doesn’t think anyone is around, hums this soft little song to our son that puts him right to fucking sleep. Such a freakin’ softie.

  “How did you arrange for this again?” I murmur tilting my head to Richard.

  John helps me into my dress as I slip into a 1950s dress I would have thought would cause me terrible PTSD, but instead it brings me great satisfaction.

  “The institution
is well aware of what the bastard did, and it didn’t take very much for them to see reason. Of course, it only took one or two people to really make the decision to turn a blind eye.”

  Archie paints my lips as I offer him a kissy face that has him chuckling. What? I can’t be fucking happy about what I’m about to do? Why the fuck not? He was fucking happy the entire fucking time.

  “Well,” I look around the small room that leads to my playground for the night. “This is going to be fun, love you.”

  I offer a grin as I step into the space and while the excitement is flooding my system, there’s also a dark sense of bloodlust. What, you thought I got soft after having a kid? Oh no. No. In fact, I probably got a tad bit crazier. Now that I have a child in this world? Well, getting rid of this creep seems like the fucking thing to do.

  The room is dark, and the props from a reality television show’s childs bedroom is set up. The shadowy corners of the room has a very panicked Reynolds looking around because I fucking made sure he was as alert as possible for this. Currently, the man is tied to the bed in a sitting position and my first act of revenge is to throw on the fucking song he fucked my mouth to. The room had been set up to allow for as much fun as I was craving, and I could see surrounding the bed was a large hydrophobic sheet that had an edge so the blood wouldn’t spill past the designated point. Richard made sure to mention that the blood would pool and roll right off the bed due to the plastic like surface, making sure that it would be somewhat easier to clean up the mess I was craving to make. The bastard had thought of everything. Such a good husband.

  The moment the creepy tune starts playing, his nostrils flare and he starts to look around panicked. Truly panicked. A sense of euphoric enjoyment cascades over me. I wasn’t going to inflict sexual torture on him, well not too much. No, I like the old fashion way of torturing. Richard has been kind enough to provide an array of sharp knives for me. Such a perfect bastard.

  “Mommy?” Reynolds ask, his voice thick with lust.

  I step out into the light as his eyes snap into that predatory state. This time though, I’m the predator. A cool icy rage filters over me as I inhaled.

  “Baby boy,” I cooed, picking up my first knife.

  “I knew you’d come for me, mommy,” he pants out as his body starts shaking. I move easily to sit myself on the edge of the bed, crossing my legs as I watch him attempt to move towards me. His legs and arms are secured, probably triple secured, so I’m not fucking worried.

  “Mommy always comes for her sweet boy,” I grin as the music starts to play on repeat. “Now, how about I put a very special mark on my baby boy?”

  A panicked look seeps in as I twirl the knife and move closer, my hand coming up to touch his cheek. It seems to soothe him as he leans into me and practically purrs. I dig my knife right into the space between his neck and shoulder, you know, the really soft part. His scream is like fucking music to my ears and I smile as he thrashes about and the scent of blood invades the room, staining the bed.

  “Oh shhh,” I speak softly, “we have to be quiet playing mommy’s game.”

  I leave the knife there and walk with an easy grace to grab, yep you guessed it, a ball gag. The best part about this is that the outside of it looks like a fucking pacifer. He couldn’t thrash his head as I attach the device and drool falls from his mouth as he attempts to scream. I pull out the knife with ease and slide my finger across the smooth cool metal before running it down his chest.

  “I ran out of blood,” I comment, noticing I only have half of the W done. So I hop right on top of him, straddling his thighs and begin to poke holes in his arms, legs, and anywhere else that wouldn’t kill him right away. I hum along to the fucking tune as I begin to trace ‘whore’ on his bright white skin, but something is missing.

  “Oh!” I cooed as I press my hand down into the blood that has pooled around his body. I’ve long ago blocked his attempts at screaming and I’ll give him this, the bastard didn’t pass out.

  “There we go!” I look up at his bright eyes. “Mommy’s whore! Isn’t that what you are?”

  The bastard nods as I chuckle and slid off the bed going to change the music to a new song. One of my favorite growing up, the Barney theme song. I grab a scalpel and larger knife before I move closer while looking at my artwork. Someone, assuming Richard, had moved my table of toys closer within the light of the section of the room I was working in.

  “Now baby boy,” I cooed softly, “do you know what I am going to do?”

  He shakes his head, whimpering.

  “Answer me,” I hiss, grasping his jaw as the ball gag falls out.

  “Mommy,” he cries out. “Mommy, please don’t.”

  “I think I asked you ‘please don’t’ several fucking times, Reynolds,” I growl. “Do you remember that? Do you remember when you fucking touched me, even though I begged you not to? Do you remember when you beat me even though I begged you not to? Fuck you.”

  “Mommy,” he whimpers.

  “I am not your fucking mother,” I hiss, before stabbing down right in his groin, a blood curdling shriek fills the space, causing my entire body to break out in chills.

  Then I really go to work. Now, this behavior of mine should probably worry me, but it’s very therapeutic. The music. His screams. Everything. I start to cut off any of his skin that touched me and then start to cut off parts for good measure, taking time to drag my knife through the bloody words on his stomach. Eventually, the screams quiet and I know he’s about to die.

  I lift myself off the bed, my entire body is coated in blood as I snap the ropes and roll him over. Then I do what any mature woman would do and stuff a fucking butt plug up his ass that looks like a bunny tail. For the record, it’s fucking huge. He doesn’t even let out a sound. But that’s okay, I lift up a gun because I know my fun is about over and kneel down next to him, his eyes glazing over.

  “Goodbye baby boy,” I whisper as the gunshot right to his head echoes in the what I’ve been told is a soundproof room. I know he’s dead, and for just a moment, I breathe it in. The trauma I’ve experienced is still there, but I’ve taken back control, and now I know without a mother fucking doubt this fucker will never come for me.

  I know this won’t heal me though. Archie stands in the room, having entered a while ago, his eyes holding a malicious glint. He has been so fucked up over the court ruling, and I can practically feel the satisfaction rolling off him. Then you have John, who is not in the room, and if I had to guess, he’s keeping an eye out as we’ve learned he is not a huge fan of blood. Freakin’ sir faints a lot. I still want to fuck him though. Richard is humming along to the music as he offers me a proud look, absolutely no regret on his end. He has been holding onto my necklace, bracelet, and rings. I groan and stand up, rolling back my shoulders.

  I immediately shimmy off the dress onto the plastic material and step into the shower head nearby, the water pooling to mix with the blood in a pretty, nearly rose gold color. I wasn’t positive if I should be worried how prepared Richard was or impressed. I was going to go with impressed because I loved the man. I stepped onto a fresh towel as Richard began the careful task of rolling the water resilient plastic up by each side and forcing the water blood mixture down the drain. Before long, it was just the body and the plastic. My husband duct tapped each side so no extra moisture would escape. Before that though, Richard placed the dress and my fun toys on top of the man and rolled both into a tight ‘pigs in the blanket’ type set up. Archie was there, helping him carry the man towards the large attached bathroom. I was impressed, standing against the wall, looking around the room, noticing that it looked essentially untouched. I finished getting ready in a soft hoodie and leggings, before walking towards the door and watching as Richard undid a bottle of hydrofluoric acid and filled the tub with it. The acid eats through the plastic, body, and dress with ease, draining all the immediate evidence down the drain.

  Still, we didn’t want to take any risks.

 
I know every part of this warehouse is going to be torched, even if we felt like everything had been destroyed. A gas explosion? You don’t say. Taking a deep breath, Richard turns on the attached shower head and rinses any remnants, mostly acid, down the drain and I walk back into the main room and take a bottle of gasoline, dousing the bed and surrounding area in it. When the task is complete, both men motion for me to follow them out of the room. Richard grabs me around the waist and I cling onto him like a freakin’ koala as the three of us walked out and find John, his face far more serene than it would have been if he’d been there.

  “Come on,” John mentions casually, “I had the system turn on all furnaces without igniting about twenty minutes ago.”

  The boys usher me out and I watch as John hangs by the door for a minute, closing the door. As I breathe in the fresh air, I’m surprised to find I hadn’t noticed the subtle change in the air inside. John locks it and walks towards us, before taking a small little gadget that buzzed a few feet off the ground. He offered the drone a match and tested its ability to light it, just like a lighter you would have in your pocket. This shit was impressive. He motioned for us to get into the car and then sent the drone forward.

  “How long will it take-”

  About one block away from the structure, the entire thing explodes. He let the furnaces fill the entire space so when it blew, it destroyed everything, including the foundation of the structure. I had to admit, that shit with the drone was impressive. He was totally getting laid for that.

  “Oh,” I watch from the nondescript car Richard obtained as the building begins to burn and sirens sound in the distance, “can we get McDonalds?”