“How could you tell that by just looking at her?”
“Her clothing, hygiene, the way she conducted herself. She looked like the trailer trash that’s on your show, Cops.”
“I know the kind you’re talking about.”
“Thanks to her I had to shut down the system as she fought at the medallion. When she couldn’t get it free, she resorted to kicking the Plexiglas while cursing and acting a fool. She finally injured her foot, which only angered her more. After that, she started jerking the kid around and cursing her as if it was her fault. When she climbed out of the trailer, the child got scared and wouldn’t come to the door. The woman became irate when she had to crawl back into the trailer, then she whipped the kid with one of those carousel ass whoopins.”
“Why do people act like that?”
“In her case, because she was a parasite that blames everyone else for her problems.”
“It’s a shame that you couldn’t do anything.”
“I did do something.”
“I didn’t know you were there.”
“Close enough to where I caught up to her as she was driving away.”
Wyatt frowned. “What? She had a car?”
“Of course.”
“I can’t believe how people act sometimes.”
“That’s the problem with society these days. People that don’t work have this attitude that they are entitled to everything you have. They bitch and whine how they are in poverty, but do nothing to change their situation.”
“There are needy people.”
“You think so? Go to one of these so-called needy people’s houses and see how needy they are. I bet you will find a big screen TV, computer, air conditioner, cell phones, gaming consoles, Internet, cable and a refrigerator full of frozen pizzas, steaks and soda pop. And guess who paid for all that shit?”
“I know what you’re saying, but there are homeless people.”
“The homeless have the choice to stay in shelters, and they also get free meals and medical treatment.”
“That’s still poverty.”
“If you want to see real poverty, go to parts of Africa and South America. Those people have to walk countless miles a day just to get a cup of water to survive. The lazy bastards we have here would rather die in a ditch before they lifted a finger to help themselves. A person’s living conditions in America are simply based on personal life choices. Don’t forget, this is a great country with vast amounts of opportunities. Americans have the choice to be self-reliant, be a parasite on welfare, or live on the streets.”
“What about people with mental issues.”
“Of course, there are exceptions. Just like with women that leave everything they have to get away from an abusive partner, or people who have endured a tragic life-changing event, or people with mental or physical issues. I’m not talking about those people. I don’t have an issue helping the ones that truly need help. I’m talking about the lazy fucks that choose to be where they’re at in life.” Seth looked at Wyatt. “And stop trying to turn my shit into something else.”
Wyatt felt bad. “You want your knife back?”
“No. I’m not an Indian giver.” Seth frowned. “Don’t even say it. It’s just a saying.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“And I was right about her being trailer trash. Her real name is Brandy Star, and at the time she lived in one.”
“That’s actually funny, but I noticed you said, is, instead of was, when referring to her name. You must have not killed her.”
“Good observation.”
“Then what did you do to her?”
“There’s really not much to tell.”
“I don’t care. I want to know what happened.”
“That night I snuck into her trailer. She and this scumbag were passed out in the living room. After I injected them with a sedative, I snooped through their crap. Unfortunately for shithead I found his parole papers. It even got worse for him when I did a background check, finding he had been busted for all kinds of things, including drugs, theft, assaults, burglaries, kidnapping, forgery, arson and a statutory rape. The guy could have been the poster boy for habitual offenders. Brandy had a child neglect, two drug possessions and several shoplifting charges. The kid wasn’t around, so I didn’t have to worry about moving them to another location. I really wasn’t in the mood to spend all night fucking them up and decided to keep it simple. After I cut off shithead’s clothes, I laid him face down on the kitchen counter top where his head was laying on the stove. There was no way to secure him with straps, so I drove some nails through his nut sack, ensuring I went through each testicle, and into the counter top. I topped it off by sewing his mouth closed and his hands to his ass cheeks. Brandy was lying on a sofa. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with her, so I nailed her feet to the floor for the time being. When she finally awoke, we had a long talk about her life choices. We’d been having a productive conversation until shithead awoke. He was a lot more aggressive than what I would have expected considering his nuts had nails in them. When he saw me sitting on the couch next to Brandy, he started yelling through his stitches. “What the fuck is going on?” He looked over his shoulder as he tried to move his hands. “What the hell?” When he moved his hips a sudden rush of pain filled his groin area. “Oh my God! What have you done to me?”
“I nailed your nuts to the counter top. Now shut the fuck up. I’m trying to have a conversation with Brandy.”
“What? What the fuck you talking about?”
“She’s been telling me how much of a piece of shit you are and how you like to beat on women. She also told me you’re no good for her and is taking this opportunity to leave your ass.”
His eyes were filled with hate as he stared at her. “You’re going to pay for this, bitch!”
I put my finger across my lips. “I said be quiet, asshole!”
“I’m going to kill you, motherfucker!”
I turned on an electric burner that was right below his head. “Maybe this will shut your ass up.”
He held his head as high as it would go as the coil started heating up. “You’re fucking crazy!”
“That’s what I’ve been told.” I sat back on the couch. “If you keep quiet I’ll let you off easy.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Means I will cut your throat when I’m done here.”
“Uh! What the fuck, dude? I haven’t done anything to you.”
Brandy looked scared. “He’s going to kill me.”
Shithead started sweet-talking her. “Baby, I wouldn’t do that. You know I love you. He’s trying to turn you against me.”
I laughed. “You’re so full of shit. Go brainwash someone else.”
He became irate. “Fuck you! And fuck you too, bitch! I’m going to rip your fucking heads off!”
“Then be a man and do it.”
He started jerking his hips around as he yelled out curse words.
“Do it fucker. Roll your ass off that counter.”
He was gritting his teeth as he fought to get loose. He was so angry that he was tearing the stitches in his mouth as he shouted, “I’m going to rip you apart, motherfucker!”
“You’re going to have to rip yourself apart first. But I don’t think you’re man enough to do it.”
The burner was now glowing red and the heat was starting to burn his face, causing him to have an attitude adjustment. “Okay, okay. You’ve made your point. Please turn this off.”
I walked over to him. “Stick your face on there for five seconds and I will show mercy.”
His eyes were filled with fear. “What? I can’t do that.”
“Sure, you can.” To his horror, I shoved the side of his face on the coil. He tore the stitches from his mouth, and before he could scream, I shoved a wooden spoon down his throat. His body was violently shaking as his muffled screams were being drowned out by the sizzling sound of his flesh cooking. Brandy had a g
rimace of terror as smoke bellowed out from his head, engulfing the trailer with a rancid odor. He endured about thirty seconds of intense pain before he passed out. I turned on the vent hood, then sat on the couch so Brandy and I could finish our conversation. An hour later I turned off the stove. His entire head was black and his skin was cracked open and oozing body fluids. His eyes had ruptured and steam was coming out of their sockets.”
Seth looked at Wyatt. “That pretty much sums up what happened.”
“What about Brandy? What did you do to her?”
“I left her bound in the chair overnight, then called her landlord the next morning. He called the police and she was taken to the hospital.”
“Did she rat on you?”
“Nope. She told them that a crazy ass Mexican had done it.”
Wyatt laughed. “You and your disguises.”
“It wasn’t that. I told her who I was.”
Wyatt looked confused. “Why would you tell her your name?”
“Not that. The Angel of Death. I did it so she would know that I wasn’t lying.”
“Lying about what?”
“I had told her if she didn’t get her shit together that I would come and find her again and nail her to a wall right before I pulled out her intestines.”
“Did she believe you?”
“Sure did. She’s been working and supporting herself ever since.”
“Does that make you feel bad that you didn’t give the other ones a second chance?”
“Each asshole gets what they deserve. The worse they are the worse it is. Every asshole tells me they are sorry and that they will change their ways. Most of the time they are full of shit, but I believed her. Also, she hasn’t been the only one I’ve given another chance, but most of them didn’t heed the warning and ran straight to the cops, then continued with their criminal ways. They wound up getting it twice as bad in the end. And speaking of twice as bad, I found that punk that had cut the tires on the truck.”
“Do I even want to know what you did to him?”
“Originally, I was just going to beat the shit out of him, but after I reviewed his criminal record and found out that he was a paroled child molester, I barbed wired his ass.”
Wyatt laughed. “Did you spank him with a piece of barbed wire?”
“He wishes. Sex offenders get it worse than anyone. His name was Richard. He was fifty-two years old and kind of on the heavy side. This fucker looked like a pervert.”
“And what does that look like?”
“He was wearing tight blue jean shorts and his shirt was too small for his gut. The top of his head was bald and surrounded with hair that was dyed jet black. The top of his head looked like a fuckin’ island. He had four earrings in each ear and two loops in his left eyebrow. And of course, he had nasty ass cold sores on his lips. His appearance is what triggered a background check. The sick fuck had molested a five-year-old boy back when he was in his early-forties. He served nine years in the pen and had just gotten out a few months prior to fucking up my rig. It’s pathetic how these fuckers just can’t learn to act right. That’s why I turned him into a living zombie.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I got done with him he moved and sounded like a zombie.”
“Did you fuck up his brain?”
“Nope. He could think just fine.”
“Don’t give me bits and pieces, tell me the story.”
“Later that evening I found him behind a convenience store buying some crack. I shot him with a tranquilizer dart, then took him to Sam Houston National Forest. He was too heavy to carry or drag, so I strapped him to a two-wheel dolly and rolled him deep into the woods. At the time, I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to do with him until I came upon an old barbed wire fence. I knew what I had planned was going to get bloody, so I injected him with a clotting agent and got my Super Glue ready. After I stripped him down, I cut his arms from the shoulder to his wrists, inserted barbed wire in the gashes, then sewed him up. I did the same thing to his legs. I also gashed, wired, and stitched him on each side of his spine from his shoulders to his butt, along each jaw line, down each side of his neck, and of course, one down the top of his dick. Preventing blood loss was the biggest obstacle to overcome, but I had applied several layers of the glue to each of his wounds, and between that and the clotting agent I had it under control. I injected him with adrenaline, then left his nude ass in the middle of the forest. Well, I didn’t actually leave. I stayed back so I could watch what happened when he woke up.”
Wyatt looked troubled. “Why would you do something like that?”
“So I could see what happened.”
“Not that. Why would you put wire in him?”
“I’ve never done something like that before and wanted to try it.”
“What happened when he came to?”
“Just laid on his back and moaned. After an hour or so I got bored and went over to him. “Get the fuck up. I wanna see how painful it is.”
He could barely move his mouth as he stared at me with uncertainty. “What’s wrong with me? I can’t move.”
“I inserted barbed wire into your body.”
His eyes opened wide. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s really simple. I cut you open, inserted some rusted barbed wire into the gashes, then sewed you closed.”
“Oh my God! Why would you do such a thing?”
“So you won’t stick your dick in any more kids.”
“I’m in a lot of pain. Please don’t do this to me.”
“It’s already been done.”
Tears were running down his cheeks. “Please get me some help.”
“Go get it yourself.”
“I can’t move. It’s too painful.”
“Sure, you can.” I looked at my watch. “I’m going back to the car to get a blow torch. If you’re still here when I get back, I’m going to burn you to death.” As I walked away he begged for mercy. When I came back he was gone. I followed his blood trail to where he was laying alongside a fallen tree. It appeared that he had rolled across the ground. When he saw me, he went into survival mode. “You get the fuck away from me! You hear me? You’re not going to touch me!”
I lit the torch. It was one of those weed burners that connected to a small propane bottle. “I’m sure the kid you stuck your dick into felt the same, so I will give you the same treatment that you gave him.”
He tried to move his arms as I brought the flame closer. “You have no right to do this!”
“Neither did you.”
“I served my fucking time! And who the fuck do you think you are?”
I taunted him with the flame. “The fucker that is fixin’ to chase your ass around these woods with this.”
“Screw you, asshole!”
He hollered muffled screams as I burned his face and head. The wires in his limbs were preventing him from defending himself as he laid helplessly on the ground. After a few seconds, I pulled the flame back. His face was bright red and his hair was smoking as he stared up at me. “Oh my God! Please don’t do that any more. I’ll do whatever you ask.”
I shut off the torch. “Get your ass up.”
He tried to move his arms but they were stuck in the stretched-out position beside him. “I… I can’t.”
“Can’t couldn’t do shit.” I reached down and bent his left arm at the elbow. When he screamed at the top of his lungs, a piece of the barbed wire ripped through some of the stitches in his jaw. He was crying hysterically as his arm stayed in the bent position. I stood up and scratched my head. “Damn, dude, that’s fucked up. Maybe I should have used thinner wire.”
He started crying like a baby. “Look what you have done to me. Please get me some help. I don’t want to die.”
“Then you’re going to have to walk your ass out of here.”
He slightly raised his head, noticing his penis was bent into the shape of a horseshoe. “Oh my God! What’s wrong with my penis?”
“It has a wire in it.”
He had a horrified expression as he looked at me. “Why is it bent like that?”
“It was sticking straight out when I got done with it, but when you rolled across the ground you must have bent the shit out of it.”
“Please call an ambulance. I don’t want to lose my penis.”
I tossed some quarters on his chest. “There’s a payphone about ten miles from here. You better get to hoofin’ it before you get too bad of an infection.”
He had a fearful look. “What?”
“I found the wire over there.” I pointed to where there was an old fence. “It was all rusted and shit. I don’t think a tetanus shot is going to help.”
He cut his eyes, looking around. “Where am I?”
“A long way from the hospital.” I looked at my watch. “There will be wild animals coming out soon, so you better do something besides lay there.”
Panic overcame him. “Please don’t leave me here! I need your help.”
He screamed as I lifted him to his feet. “There you go.” He could barely stand as the pain from just trying to keep his balance was excruciating. His left arm was still bent, his right one was hanging straight down against his body and his mouth was hanging open. Suddenly he vomited all over the front of himself and he looked as if he was going to pass out. He had tears running down his cheeks, snot dripping from his nose and puke dangling from his chin. Leaves and dirt were sticking to his blood covered body, and sections of the barbed wire were starting to protrude where they crossed his elbows and knees. I knew he wasn’t going to be able to move with the wires running the full length of his limbs. I pushed him backwards, causing him to hit the ground like a tree. The impact knocked him out, and while he slept, I cut the sections of wires where they crossed his elbows and knees. It was a few hours until dark, so I injected him with some morphine and adrenaline. I lifted him to his feet as he came to, then strapped a camera to his forehead. “If you want to live you need to find your way out of here.” I looked at my watch. “You have three hours of daylight left.”
The injections made him feel spunky. “Get the fuck away from me, you fucking freak.” He took off into the woods, taking short, straight-legged steps.”
The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore Page 89