Snatched

by Ian Woodhead

  The boy didn't even flinch when I pushed my thumbnail through the thin skin and ripped off Gandalf 's ear. I dropped the damaged animal back into its cage then stood in front of Donnie. He flinched when I ran my fingers through his damp hair. I was rather relieved that Gandalf and Donnie didn't share any metaphysical bond. I know it was a remote notion but I had to make sure.

  I was treading on uncharted territory with this one, so I had to be prepared for anything.

  The boy continued to shake. Was he cold? This room didn't feel that warm, and he only wore a towel. In the past, their shaking usually meant they were terrified of me. This is only natural, considering I had already proved that I was most capable of violence.

  I looked over at Gandalf. He shook too. He had reason to. Tiny flecks of blood stuck to his bedding. He would adjust to his disabilities. Rodents are a most adaptable of animals. It might look like I committed a most heinous act upon such a harmless and cuddly creature but he really has come out of this ordeal for the better.

  It will make Gandalf stronger. Adversity does that. This is true, as my mother lived by this rule and it is the only rule of hers that I agree with. My fingers moved down Donnie's head and lightly caressed both his ears. It is hard for me to admit this but I didn't think Donnie was all that scared of my sudden presence. This meant that I could not afford to allow my confidence to blanket my cold logic. It meant that I had to turn the cruelty tap onto full.

  The boy tried to move his head away from my hands. I thought that applying pressure on his lobes would nip that silliness in the bud but it only made him struggle more. Even with the foreknowledge that he would be different to the others, this behaviour astounded me.

  I twisted both ears. He screamed again but didn't stop struggling. Was this kid part wild animal? I had never experienced anything like this before, and his continued screaming was making my head hurt. It was hard for me to stay calm.

  I let go of ears, stood back and slapped him. The impact bust his lip but it did shut him up. Before the noise started again, I wrapped my fingers around his tender throat and lifted him off the floor. “You live at sixteen Evergreen Avenue with your mum, Donnie. Your mum, Janet is such a pretty little thing.” threw him on the bed. “Continue to defy me, and I'll hurt your mum.”

  “Please, don't hurt her.”

  At last! The boy can speak after all. His defiance was nowhere to be seen. He now looked exactly like all the other Francos, a soft, vulnerable, little boy. I almost wondered if I had imagined his rebelliousness. A quick glance at the blood splats on the hallway carpet soon put that silly notion back where it belonged. I sat on the bed and grabbed the boy's ankle. He didn't try to pull his leg out of my loose grip. I took this as a good sign. Still, he could be crying crocodile tears. It was important to establish the boy's place as quickly as possible.

  I took a cable tie from my back pocket, took his other leg and held them together while fastening the plastic strip tight around his ankles. “I'm going to set some rules for you, Donnie. You see, you and I are going to be spending a lot of time together. So, obviously, you need to understand what will happen if you upset me.” I climbed onto the bed and stood over the boy. The snarling face looked close to reappearing. I suspect that he was trying to control his base emotions to avoid any more pain. This is understandable. Donnie was now aware that I was not going to handle him like a fragile glass ornament.

  Nevertheless, the boy still needed to know what happened if the rules were broken.

  I kneeled down, my knees touching the boy's hips. The bed creaked. I held his wrists and leant towards his frightened face then I paused.

  I found myself licking my lips. I heard a whisper at the back of my mind. This made me a little uneasy. Was it a memory, or was it Providence? Whatever the origin, the message was clear. Do not give this one the standard opening threatening speech.

  I was going to hit with the 'If you do not obey me, I will fuck your mum with a broken coke bottle'. The words were still there, impatiently wanting to be heard. There was no doubt that the threat worked in the past, but now I wonder if the words strengthened that parental bond that I had tried so hard to break. I needed to try a new approach. This wasn't a problem as like Gandalf, I could adapt to any new situation.

  “Who lives next door, Donnie?” I slapped him again when he didn't answer immediately. It wasn't as hard as the first slap, but it got the message across.

  “Mrs Dyson!” He stammered.

  “How old is she?”

  “I don't know.”

  I raised my hand.

  “I don't know, I swear.” He started to cry. “Please don't hit me again!"

  I sighed, heavily. At times, I forget that as far as most kids are concerned. Anybody over the age of thirty is ready for their grave. “Does she work?"

  He shook his head. “No. She did. Dad told me that she worked at the mill until she retired a few years ago."

  “Does this old woman live alone?”

  Donnie nodded. He looked relieved to have been able to a answer question without me hitting him. Mrs Dyson would be a curtain twitcher, meaning she could have heard Donnie's previous unpleasantness. I sat up, placed his wrists together and fastened them with another cable tie. I don't know about you, Donnie but I'm getting a little peckish. Let's go downstairs."

  I threw the boy over my shoulder, Walked out of the room then ducked back in and grabbed the cage. “Gandalf can keep you company."

  I took the pair of them downstairs and broke the awkward silence by whistling a Christmas tune. It still annoyed me that his father had exposed the boy to such vile movies and video games but I tried my best to stay calm. It did occur to me that his recent game playing might have attributed to Donnie's initial defiance. Still, that's all water under the bridge now.

  The sofa was full of discarded clothes, so I deposited Donnie on the chair and placed the cage on the coffee table next to him. “Right, I just need to collect something. You are going to stay quiet and still. There will be trouble if you defy me, boy." I stood over him. "Do you understand this or do I hurt you again?"

  He shook his head. “I won't move, I promise."

  I patted his head and left the room, knowing that he would behave. I might not have told him what I would do to his mum but the silent threat was there. Granted, I didn't think he was a total mummy's boy like my last Franco but that didn't matter. After all, who didn't love their mum?

  I left the house, ensuring that the front door stayed open, before jumping the low fence which separated both properties. I peered through the closest window and saw her, sitting in front of the television with a black and white cat curled up on her lap. She was watching the news. Both of them looked quite contented. It didn't surprise me to find that I could hear the news reader's every word. This also calmed my concern that she might have heard the boy screaming.

  Time was wasting and l dare not leave Donnie alone for too long. I stood back and checked the other windows. No lights. Mrs Dyson lived alone. Although this rather unscientific approach didn't confirm this, I trusted Providence to see me through.

  I banged on the door in the style of a policeman and waited. Sure enough, within a moment, ambient yellow light shone through the front door's frosted glass. Her dark shape soon blocked out most of that light.

  “Hello? Who is it?”

  “Mrs Dyson, this is the police. I'm sorry to bother you at this late time, but I'm afraid that I have some rather distressing news.”

  The sound of the chain disengaging and the key turning was music to my ears. She opened the door and smiled at me. Mrs Dyson wasn't much bigger than Donnie. Such a fragile little thing. I bet she must be pushing seventy. I clenched my fist and punched her hard. She flew back and hit the side of the wall. It took me just seconds to secure her. After pressing a strip of gaffa tape across her lips, I discovered that I was running out of cable ties. I didn't think I would need any more tonight but this still concerned me. I hated being unprepared.

&n
bsp; Once I had done with the old woman, I walked into the living room and turned the volume on the television down a couple of notches. It was way too loud.

  Three cats, the one previously on her lap and two ginger animals, followed me out of the living room and watched with great interest as I picked up their sleeping mistress and carried the old woman out of the house. I shut the door behind me as those pussy cats were about to follow me out into the street. I couldn't allow that to happen. The litter tray in the hallway suggested to me that Mrs Dyson's pets never left the house. The poor things wouldn't last ten minutes out here.

  I had to hold my nose while I carried Mrs Dyson into Donnie's house. The smell coming off her wasn't that much different from the aroma that caught my nose when I walked past that litter tray, but with the added scent of 1970s perfume.

  It pleased me to see that Donnie hadn't moved. I know this sounded silly, considering I'd only just met the boy, but I really believe that a connection was forming between us. This made me happy. His eyes fair bulged when I brought Mrs Dyson into the living room. Her weak struggling told me that the old woman coming around. This pleased me as well.

  I stood the woman, in front of his father's overstocked bookcase and ordered her not to move. To reinforce my command, I held my large fist millimetres from her terrified eyes. From the moaning behind her tape and her trembling body, I guessed she received the message loud and clear.

  “You have been a very good boy, so far, Donnie.” I winked at Mrs Dyson, just to help her relax, before I turned around to face the boy. “I can't forgive the screaming. I'm sorry.” I held up my hand. “I know, I know that you couldn't help yourself. If I was in your place, I might have even done the same.”

  I then spun around and rammed my boot between Mrs Dyson's legs. It pleased me to see that he hadn't repeated his previous transgression. In fact, he even slapped his palm across his mouth.

  That was such a sweet thing to do. “This is all your fault. If you hadn't screamed, this poor woman wouldn't be in this situation.”

  The boy started to cry again. I picked Mrs Dyson off the floor and held her at arms length. Her lightness made this an easy task. Again, I silently thanked providence for ensuring that the woman living next door didn't weigh the same as a dumper truck. I fastened my grip under her chin before letting go of her dress. “It's almost over, dear.” I offered her one of my boyish grins before punching her in the gut. It's natural to fold up when you've been winded but for her, this was impossible. I hit her a couple more times dropping her back on the carpet.

  I left the boy to stare at his handiwork while I wandered into the kitchen. I returned seconds later with a bin bag and a smaller plastic bag. I spread the bin bag in front of the woman before lifting her onto it. I stuffed her head into the other bag. While pressed the plastic hard against her nose, I decided to put my earlier trepidation down to a combination or lack of sleep and the residual effect of whatever had afflicted me yesterday.

  “I bet you feel really bad now, Donnie.” She was almost dead. Mrs Dyson was coming to the end of her life. Still, she did have a good innings. “This is to be expected.” Once I was satisfied she was well and truly dead, I dropped her corpse and walked over to the cringing boy. In time, once I had flushed the evil hiding deep inside Donnie, the pair of us will look back at this first meeting with fondness, of that, I'm sure of.

  “I don't know about you, lad, but I've built up an incredible appetite!” I put this down to having such an eventful and productive day. “I do a fantastic home-made burger and chips, Donnie.” Both Bethany and Bennie go wild over the occasional meals I make when the soup kitchen is closed. I am an excellent cook.

  It is one of my many hidden talents.

  I left the boy to continue staring at the corpse while I went back into the kitchen. I popped the fryer on before opening the freezer. “We can watch some cartoons if you like,” I shouted. Unlike that irresponsible father, I knew what kids should be watching. Cartoons were good clean fun, something the whole family could enjoy. Donnie's father should be ashamed of himself for showing such vile and disgusting movies to the young boy. Who knows what emotional damage those horror films could have done to Donnie. I guess its good fortune that I turned up when I did.

  Donnie will eventually thank me for saving his life.

  I pulled out half a bag of chips and a packet of fish fingers. It wasn't exactly what I wanted but beggars couldn't be choosers. It would do as a snack for now. There were a good few hours before I could take Donnie to the car. I wanted to wait until it was dark before I attempted that. I also wanted to make sure that when the father returned, the place looked pretty much how he left it. Donnie's dad and I were not due to meet until tomorrow.

  It is difficult to describe the feeling of betrayal which surged through me when I walked back into the living room to find Donnie had moved from his spot. To make matters even worse than they were, he had the audacity to be cradling the old woman. This was just unacceptable. I almost killed him there and then. So much for sharing a connection.

  To make matters even worse, if that was even possible, the glare had returned. I countered his glare with a sweet smile, even though I was seething inside, I refused to allow the boy to think that he had got the better of me. “My stomach really is rumbling,” I said. “Come on, let's go into the kitchen, you can watch me cook. Perhaps you will learn something.”

  I took his hand, picked him up and took him out of the living room. He now smelled just like Mrs Dyson. That would not do, once I got him home, I'd have to bathe him myself. I lifted him onto the counter. “Okay, stay here. I have a surprise for you Donnie.”

  I walked back into the living room, pulled Gandalf out of the cage. “Even think about screaming, you little cunt,” I yelled, “and your hand will follow!” I now returned Donnie's glare before dropping the hamster into the fryer.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It has been many months since my temper came out to play. Now that I've allowed my body and mind to rest, I feel that I should have reigned in some of my actions. Poor Gandalf certainly didn't deserve to go out the way he did, I also shouldn't have made Donnie eat the hamster's cooked insides either.

  I put the boy in the transition room for the night. He has a bed, a blanket, a bucket for his waste and I've even allowed him a book. Donnie will be staying there for the next day or so. This will give him time to adjust to his new surroundings. Even though the very sight of him brings back that hateful memory of him looking like he wanted me dead, I am still happy and excited about the prospect of the boy's transition.

  Once I calmed down enough to function efficiently, I placed the boy in front of the television, found a cartoon channel and made sure he couldn't escape before I started the clean up. I confess that the procedure of clearing away signs of my arrival helped my state of being more than usual. I don't usually enjoy the clear up.

  Mrs Dyson was my first priority. She hadn't shit herself, like they usually do, that helped to lighten my mood. I didn't need the bin bag after all. In fact, I didn't even need the plastic bag. I could have easily killed her by squeezing her nostrils together. The bag was for Donnie's benefit, it added drama.

  I dumped her body in her bed, after I had undressed her. It did surprise me to find she had rather firm breasts for a pensioner. I even took a picture to mark the occasion. Once she was in bed, I carried all the cats into the room and shut them in there with the body. They might be pets but after a few days of no supreme kittiecat chunks in beef jelly, their animal instincts will soon kick in.

  It took longer to sort out Donnie's house, this was more due to me slapping and pinching the boy every time he started to whine, sniffle or cry. I'm sure he was doing it on purpose. We didn't leave until past eleven. Looking back, I think I did a pretty good job, despite Donnie's efforts to wind me up. His dad was due back home at just after midnight. As he normally called into the pub before driving home, I doubted that He'd even bother to check in on Donnie before collapsing o
n either the sofa or his bed. Even if he did look into Donnie's room, it would look like the boy was fast asleep. I found a spare pillow and a couple of blankets in the towel cupboard and used them to recreate a Donnie doppelgänger under his quilt.

  I took my gaze off the row of yellow roses at the side of the garden and looked towards the ceiling. It's been a good ten minutes since Donnie stopped banging on the door. I suspect that he has gone to sleep. It amused me to hear the boy's tiny fists smacking against the wood. I already told the boy that I was the only person in the house, so exactly who he expected to answer his knocking was a complete mystery. My amusement stemmed from the similarity to how Tommy acted when David used to lock him in there all those years ago.

  I looked back at my blooming roses. I put both of their bodies under the soil before planting the roses. I suspect that's the reason why they have done so well. I often go to bed, imagining the roots slowly growing and expanding and pushing their tendrils in order to gain as much nourishment as possible from their slowly decomposing bodies.

  I so wanted to kick myself for allowing my mind to dredge up old memories. Now the floodgates were open, I couldn't stop their black sludgy thoughts drowning out everything else, polluting my mind. I managed to reach my armchair before my legs gave out.

  It wasn't fair. I was the one who she was to go with next not that fucking Tommy. He should have waited his turn like I did, like we all did. It was how it worked. He was only thirteen, there was hardly anything between his legs to satisfy her. Yeah well. I wasn't going to let him get away with this, not a chance. Unlike Tommy, I would have made her scream. I had the necessary equipment and I knew what to do with it. I might only be fifteen but David showed me what to do. I've even read the banned flesh magazines which David sneaked in from beyond the house.