by Ray Garton
The drive to my place was silent. She whimpered and moaned some, but for the most part she just stared at me.
“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” I said.
She didn’t say anything for a few minutes, then, “My family won’t…pay you anything. If…if that’s what you want. I’m not worth…anything to th-them.”
I had noticed her odor when I carried her, but for some reason it was worse in the car. Filling it like insecticide. A sharp, almost cheesy smell.
When I parked the car, the dogs got to barking right away. Gail held her breath and listened to them, and I thought I might have seen a small smile, but it could have been a grimace.
“How does a hot bath sound?” I said after lifting her and carrying her toward the house.
“Please,” she said and shook her head. “Don’t h-hurt me. I won’t f-fight you. Just don’t hurt me.”
I carried her through the front door and up the stairs. When I sat her on the bathroom floor and started up the bath, she got to crying. Not just whimpering, but crying. I knew it had to hurt. I wanted to say something to try and calm her down, but I’m not great with words. Never had any friends to practice with I guess.
Once the water was good and hot, I lifted her up and pulled the musty, stained gown over her head. Not because I’m some kind of pervert or anything. But because she wouldn’t have been able to do it herself. I kept my eyes on her face to make sure I didn’t see anything I wasn’t supposed to, but that didn’t seem to make her feel better. She covered herself and turned her eyes away from me. Still crying. Grimacing and hissing between sobs.
“Please don’t cry,” I said, but she wasn’t hearing me.
I lifted her again, making sure to keep my hands under her neck and knees, and placed her gently into the tub. As scared as she was, I could see the relief sweep over her once that water enveloped her body.
I turned my back to her. “Take as long as you need. I’ll go cook us up something to eat. You need anything, just call for me.”
I walked out, left the door open so I could hear her. She didn’t say anything, but I could hear water splashing around. Lying in that hospital bed for as long as she was, inhaling her own stink, I figured the bath was like heaven to her.
Downstairs, I peeked out the window and saw the blue and purple brushstroke in the sky. The dogs kept on with their racket, so I headed over and fed them first. Patted their heads and scratched behind their ears.
I made pancakes. I didn’t know if she liked that or not, but I figured everyone had to like pancakes. It was my favorite as a kid, and one of my favorite things about being an adult was cooking myself some pancakes anytime I wanted with nobody around to tell me I couldn’t.
I made blueberry pancakes. Filled two glasses with grape juice.
“Hello?” Her voice was a whisper quivering with agony, but I heard it over the sizzling batter.
After tossing the last pancake on top of the tall stack on the table, I wiped my hands over my pants and ascended the stairs. I stood far enough back that I could only see her head above the rim of the tub. Her eyes big like one of those Precious Moments figurines my mom used to collect.
“Water’s cold.” Her lips shivered when she said it. I could smell that she used the soap and shampoo.
“I’m gonna come in. Help you out. Dry you off. That okay?”
She nodded. Didn’t scream or fight when I did what I said I would. I realized then that I didn’t have any women’s clothing, so she wore an old Batman sweatshirt that fit her like a dress.
At the kitchen table, I wasn’t sure she would have the strength to keep herself upright in the chair, but she managed okay. Didn’t touch the pancakes, but drank the grape juice down. I poured syrup over my stack and stuffed myself while she watched.
“You’re going to kill me. Aren’t you?”
I didn’t answer. Just kept chewing.
“I was…thinking maybe my family…put you up to this.” She paused, gripping the edge of the table as pain rode her body like a metal train on a wooden rollercoaster.
I stood but she held up a hand to stop me.
“I don’t know your family.”
“They couldn’t see you.”
“Nobody can.”
She just nodded and we sat there in silence while I finished the pancakes on my plate, then went for more. The dogs were still barking, hadn’t stopped since we arrived.
“I haven’t seen a dog in…in a long time. Haven’t even been outside in over a year.” She did smile this time. There was pain behind it, but the smile was real. “Can I see them? Your d-dogs?”
I wiped my mouth and hands, then lifted her back up. She kept staring at me which made me kind of uncomfortable, but I just focused on walking.
It wouldn’t be much longer now. The color was vibrant over our heads and pulsated like it was breathing. I wondered if she could see it, too, but didn’t ask.
When we reached the cages, the barking exploded into chaos. Some growled and snapped at Gail as I set her on her knees in front of them.
But she only smiled. Reached her fingers through the chain links. The dogs whined and licked and rubbed their wet noses across her fingertips. She laughed and I knew it hurt, but it still sounded nice coming out of her mouth.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked, her eyes still on the dogs.
“Because sometimes there’s too much meanness in the world,” I said as I lifted the sledgehammer that was leaning against the cages. “And the only way to balance it out is to show mercy when no one else will. To destroy the suffering so the leeches can’t feed on it anymore.”
She pressed her mouth to the cage. Kissed the dogs’ wet noses.
“Thank you,” she said.
The sledgehammer collided with the back of her head and ended it quickly. She was dead before she fell over, and I swear to you, she was smiling. Different than the last smile. No pain behind it.
“Don’t thank me,” I said and tossed the hammer away. “I’m only doing my job.”
As I buried her, the blue and purple faded to gray.
Balance restored. For now.
Coming Soon
Fort by Mark Allen Gunnells
Relic of Death by David Bernstein
Gardens of Babylon by Sara Brooke
Find these and other horrific books at sinistergrinpress.com
Table of Contents
Cut Corners
A Flat and Dreary Monday Night by Ray Garton
Exposed by Monica J. O'Rourke
Bleeding Rainbows by Shane McKenzie
Coming Soon