The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore

by Garrett, Wade H.

  Seth walked over to Dicky. “Postpartum depression sounded like an excuse to me in this particular situation. This woman was a ruthless killer who planned a way to get rid of her kids, and she would have probably got away with it if she weren’t so stupid.”

  “How did you get to her? She was in a high security psychiatric hospital.”

  “She really wasn’t in what most people would call a high security building. It was just the normal mental health institute with locked doors, guards and security cameras. Remember, she was considered sick, having a mental disorder, and treated as such. But nevertheless, I did stake out the mental health institute on and off for years as I tried to figure out a way to get her, but it was an impossible feat due to the cameras and security guards. She was eventually released twelve years later, and a year after that I found her living in a low-income, Section 8, apartment complex in West Virginia. Every evening she would walk to the local grocery store and try to sell food stamps for money so she could buy drugs, wine, cigarettes and who knows what else. One evening behind the store I simply knocked her over the head with a club and tossed her into the trunk of my car.”

  “Really, that easy? I never read that she came up missing.”

  “It was that easy. And why would you read that she came up missing? She was just some lowlife street trash that the media could care less about.”

  He just stared at Seth.

  “That’s why patience is important. It wasn’t worth the risk trying to break her out of the hospital. I had to simply bide my time, just like I did with you.”

  He wanted to say something, but remained quiet.

  “What’s the last thing you remember before you awoke in here?”

  He became angry and grabbed the bars. “You sorry son of a bitch.”

  “Wow! I can’t believe you’re that upset. You were just watching Bonanza reruns.”

  “He gripped the bars. “You invaded my home and took me against my will.”

  “I didn’t take you against your will. You were unconscious.”

  “Fuck you! You have no right to do this!”

  “You had no right to do what you did, so that makes us even.”

  He walked away and faced a wall as he gripped his fist. “You have no right to keep me here against my will.”

  “You’re better off in here than going back and facing the music.”

  He spun around. “What the fuck have you done? You keep saying you did something that makes me look bad.”

  “Let’s just say that Bonanza wasn’t playing in your DVD player when a friend came looking for you.”

  He walked back up to the bars. “What the fuck did you do?”

  “I’m not telling… Pervert.”

  “You motherfucker! You’re messing with my reputation.”

  “Fucking a mother would be appropriate considering all the illegal videos, magazines and sex toys that were found hidden in your house.”

  “I know you didn’t!”

  “You have no idea how far I took it. You’ve been on the news, pal. There’s a man hunt out for your ass.”

  He grabbed the bars and started shouting profanities.

  “Shut the fuck up before I give you something to scream about!”

  He started pacing back and forth while mumbling to himself.

  Pop! Seth shot him in the side of his neck with a CO2 pistol. “I said shut the fuck up!”

  “You motherfuc…”

  Pop! A pellet struck him in his forehead. “I said shut the fuck up!”

  “Stop fuc…”

  Pop! A pellet struck him in the eye. “What the fuck do you not understand about shut the fuck up?”

  Dicky fell to his knees, screaming out while holding his right eye. “Now look what you did.”

  “Shut up!

  “My fucking eye is bleeding!”

  “It doesn’t matter. You still have your left one.” Pop! A pellet struck him on the side of his face.

  He fell to his side and started crying. Seth turned and walked out of the chamber.

  Later that night, Seth came back into the chamber holding a cup of coffee. He walked up to the cell and noticed Dicky was sitting on the floor with his head down. “Hey, pal, how’s the eye?”

  He didn’t speak as he looked up.

  Seth laughed. “Nice.”

  “You’re a sorry motherfucker.”

  “Yeah, least I ain’t a one-eyed motherfucker.”

  He stood up and walked over to the bars. “You win.”

  “Really? What a different attitude you have. You’re not going to cry and whine about wanting to get out of here?”

  “What good has that done me? And besides, you apparently fucked me real good where I can’t go home. So just go ahead and tell your stories so we can get to whatever you have planned.”

  Seth sipped his coffee. “See what I mean?”

  “About what?”

  “How people change their mind-set in here.”

  “I’ve simply given up.”

  “Yeah, for now.”

  Seth sat in a chair that was next to the cell. He took a sip of his coffee.

  Dicky gave him a go to hell look.

  Seth looked at his mug, then back at him. “How rude of me. Did you want a cup?”

  “No. I’m okay with the piss water seeping in through the wall.”

  Seth took another sip. “Good deal. Now back to that bitch. Last thing she remembered was standing behind the grocery store before I knocked her over the head with a club. Before I made the trip back home, I injected her with a sedative to keep her unconscious. The trip was long, so when I stopped to get gas I would also check on her and give her smaller doses of sedative to maintain her unconsciousness. When I finally made it home I dragged her into the chamber and stuck her into a cell so I could take a nap—I had driven so many hours without a break. Later that evening when I came back into the chamber, I gave her another injection so she would remain asleep, then began working on a glass aquarium for her head. The aquarium, or glass box, was three-foot long, three-foot wide and two-foot deep. Metal angle iron framed the corners of the glass box and metal legs held the unit about four and a half feet above the floor. The legs were secured to the floor with angle brackets and anchors to ensure the unit would not fall over. The bottom of the tank had a 14-inch diameter hole cut in the center where it facilitated a rubber sleeve. The tank looked like a beefed-up aquarium on a high metal stand.

  While Sandy was still unconscious, I stood her up under the tank and pushed her head up inside the hole that was in the bottom of the glass tank, and to prevent her head from falling out, I temporarily supported her body with a rope. To make a watertight seal between her neck and tank, I slipped a special made rubber sleeve over her head. The device fit snug around her neck and was fanned out at the lower part where it was secured to the bottom of the tank with a metal ring, bolts and nuts. I ran a small plastic hose over to the tank and secured it to the inside edge with a metal strap, then connected the other end to an electric solenoid valve that was fed by a hand operated water valve. I installed momentary electrical pushbutton switches a foot from the bottom of the tank on each of the metal legs, then ran wiring from the switches to the solenoid valve. I completed the project by installing a hinged lid with a built-in light on top of the tank.

  Several hours later, she awoke and found herself in a very awkward position. Her head was stuck inside a lighted box, and she couldn’t see anything through the glass because the lights were out in the chamber. A few minutes later, she started to panic as she desperately tried to get free. The combination of the light and glass was projecting the shadow of her face and head on the walls and floor of the chamber. While I stood in the dark, I could see some of the others in the chamber were staring at the aquarium and her shadowed image on the walls while she was hysterically jumping around and screaming like somebody had shoved a hot curling iron up her ass.

  I lit a cigarette. The flame from my lighter had caught her
eye. “Is someone there? Please help me!”

  I climbed a stepladder, opened the lid and spoke with a British accent. “Bloody hell mate. Some wanker tossed your head in the dustbin.”

  Her reaction was a little different from what I expected—I figured she would beg for help, but instead she looked up at me with an angry look. “What the fuck, dude? Are you fucking crazy?”

  Just for kicks I starting sticking little fish stickers on the inside of the glass.

  She was twisting her head so she could see me. “Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Get me the fuck out of this thing!”

  I climbed down from the ladder and cut the ropes that held her body up, and because her head was bound inside the tank, she was forced to stand up and support her own weight or she would hang by her neck. The tank was a little shorter than she was, so she had to stand in a slightly hunched over or squatting position, which was very uncomfortable. She was jerking around and pulling at the support legs as I opened the water valve. About ten seconds later, water started running out of the small hose, and as she stared at the running water, horror overcame her when she realized she was in a very unpleasant predicament. When the water started forming a puddle on the bottom of the tank she began viciously punching the glass to break it, but it was three-eighths thick and all she was accomplishing was bruising her knuckles. Within minutes the water level had risen to a couple of inches.

  I looked down into the tank. “If you want the water to stop flowing, push both buttons. One is located on your right side and the other one is on your left.”

  She started frantically searching for the buttons, but quickly gave up when she couldn’t find them and went back to beating on the glass.

  She was getting hysterical, so I grabbed her right hand and pushed it against the right button. “Hold this button in with this hand and push the other button on the other side with your left hand, and when both buttons are pressed the water will stop.”

  She quickly found the other button and pushed it. The water stopped flowing.

  She had a look of relief on her face as I looked down into the tank. “Now that you have the hang of it I am going upstairs to go to bed.”

  She looked at me like I was crazy as I shut the top of the tank, and as I walked out of the chamber I could hear her shouting and screaming for me to release her.

  The next morning was a little more exciting. The water level had risen just below her chin, and as I stood quietly behind her I could tell she was extremely exhausted from having to stand all night in the slightly hunched over position while holding her arms out. I went and slid a recliner over towards her and sat down so I could watch comfortably because her struggling was making my back hurt. She was having a difficult time holding the buttons, and within ten minutes her arms had collapsed four times, and for each time she had released the buttons the water level had risen about an eighth of an inch. With each passing minute, her muscles were becoming more and more fatigued, and within no time she was only able to hold the buttons for a few seconds before she would give out. Her legs and back were extremely exhausted as well, and as soon as her arms fell to her sides her legs would collapse; she would hang by her head for a few minutes to let her body rest. Every time she did this the water would get higher and higher, and at this point the water was just a little below her bottom lip when her body would hang. The rubber seal between her neck and tank was flexible, so when she stood up her head would move up about four inches. The next time her body collapsed, she waited until the water level had reached her mouth before she stood back up and pushed the buttons. Her body was trembling and she was at her breaking point, so I walked next to the tank with a flashlight and shined the light onto my face so she could see me. “You would have been better off if you had given up last night when I wasn’t here.”

  She looked relieved, and when she tried to speak, her voice was muffled and very rough sounding—it was apparent she had yelled and screamed all night for help.

  “You’re going to drown sooner or later, so you might as well just give up.”

  After that comment her facial expression changed back to a panicked look. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  I opened the lid and dropped some plastic frogs and ducks into the tank. “Don’t you recognize the yellow duck with the blue hat?”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment—she knew the answer to my question—the duck belonged to her youngest son Jason. “Did my ex-husband put you up to this?”

  I laughed. “Nope, just doing it for fun.”

  “What are you, some type of sick and twisted fuck who likes drowning women?”

  I taunted her by splashing water in her face. “Actually, I’m not the one that is going to drown you. You’re in control of that matter. And far as being a sick and twisted fuck, what would you call a mother that kills her children?”

  The water level had reached a height where she had to hold her head as high as possible to keep the water out of her mouth. Her eyes were filled with fear and her tears added to the water level as she stared up at me. “Come on man, please don’t do this. I’m scared. Please let me out of this thing.”

  “This must be how Jason and Chris felt when they were bound in their car seats. And I think it’s fair I show you the same compassion that you showed your sons. At least you know why you’re in this predicament. Your children must have been terrified being abandoned by the one who is supposed to be their protector. If you tell me the reason why you murdered your children I will assure you that you will live for many years and that you will not go to hell anytime soon.”

  She stayed silent for a few seconds. “I had postpartum dep….”

  I interrupted her. “If that’s the card you’re going to play, then death is inevitable for you. Remember, you’re not talking to a jury. The death sentence has already been bestowed to you. The only chance of survival is the truth.”

  Her facial expression went from scared to spiteful. “My husband wanted to have kids. He knew I never had any desire to have any. He promised me we would be together forever, and if I wanted to be with him I would have to give him kids. The sorry bastard left me for another woman.” She stopped talking and began to daze. She could barely keep her mouth above the water line and was breathing heavily.

  “Don’t stop now, you’re running out of time.”

  “I was angry with my husband. He told me if I tried to keep him from seeing his kids he would take them from me. I was so infuriated with him that.…”

  “Go ahead and say what you did.”

  “I, I took his kids from him. I wanted him to be as hurt as I was.” She looked away and started staring into space.

  “I understand wanting revenge for your husband’s adultery, but why did you make your kids pay for his indiscretion? Why didn’t you kill the bastard or just cut off his weenie like some other pissed off wives have done?”

  She looked back up at me with a strange expression. “I love my husband.”

  “Love your husband? What about your kids?”

  She didn’t say anything for a little bit as she seemed to be in a trance, then she looked at me again. “I told you, now let me out, I can’t hold on much longer.”

  “First, tell me how a mother could not love her kids.”

  She gasped for air. “I thought my husband would feel sorry for me and come back. We could have had more kids. Now get me out of this thing!”

  I paused a moment to take in what she had said. Wow, what a piece of shit I thought to myself. “I didn’t say anything about getting you out.”

  “I told you the truth. You said I would live if I told you.”

  She was begging for me to release her as I walked off in the dark and turned on the lights in the chamber. The low bay lights began slowly lighting up the room as I stood next to her. “Unfortunately, you’re not going to die. Death would have been the better alternative for you. You should have played the postpartum depression card. Looks like you folded your hand.”


  As the lights became brighter she began to see the horrific sights in the chamber for the first time, and when she realized what kind of horror laid ahead she started frantically screaming for help. A few minutes later, her body and arms collapsed from exhaustion and her head went under water. She held her breath as long as she could to give her legs and arms a rest, then she stood back up and pressed in the buttons. She was only able to stand and hold in the buttons for about three minutes until she gave out again. After the third or fourth time the water level had risen to where her mouth was under water and she had to breathe through her nose.

  While she held her head up and fought to keep her nose above the water level, I leaned over the top of the tank. “Good thing your nose isn’t stopped up.”

  Her eyes were bulging out of their sockets and her neck muscles stuck out as she strained to maintain her position. She knew the moment she released the buttons, or her legs collapsed, that she would drown. A few minutes later, her body started violently shaking, then her legs buckled. Her adrenaline allowed her to push back up, but her head movement had created waves, and when she tried to take a breath she sucked in water. She started blowing water out of her nostrils to clear her nose, and as she violently jerked around, the motion of her head caused the water to slosh around enough that allowed her to take in some breaths as the water level rose and fell around her face. After a few lucky breaths, she accidentally caught a nose full of water and began choking, then she started viciously jumping up and down under the tank as she hysterically tried to catch a breath; she looked like a wild animal caught in a trap. As the pain of asphyxiation set in she threw her arms around like a crazy person as she was beating on the tank and the metal support legs; she was hitting them so hard she was tearing gashes into her hands. I could see her horrified expression clearly through the glass. Her eyes were very blood shot and about to pop out of her head and the muscles in her face were straining so much that they looked as if they were going to bust out of her skin. Suddenly, her blood-covered hand slapped the side of the tank, and after her hand smeared a bloody stripe across the glass, her body fell limp. Her eyes remained open as if she were staring into space. Time was short, so I quickly cut the rubber sleeve and pulled her head out. She was starting to turn blue as she laid on the wet floor. Before she slipped away, I quickly gave her artificial respiration using a hand pump. After a couple of pumps, she coughed up some water, and as she started regaining consciousness I looked into her eyes. “Welcome back, sunshine.”