Home Is Where the Horror Is

by C. V. Hunt

  We kicked off our shoes and peeled off our wet socks and dropped them on the door mat. Little drops of water fell from Rachel’s hair as she bent to remove her socks. I retreated to the bathroom and grabbed two towels. When I exited the bathroom I found Rachel in the process of removing her shirt. I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at her like some moron maid service holding the towels. She smiled at me as she tossed her shirt on top of her shoes. Thunder rumbled again as she unfastened her shorts and wiggled out of them to reveal gray and black striped bikini underwear. She tossed the shorts on the pile of wet clothes she was creating and crossed the cabin to me. I held out a towel for her, not knowing what to do. She took it and dropped it on the floor. She grabbed the other towel I was holding and threw it on the floor also. She placed her hands on either side of my face and kissed me. She pressed her body into mine and there was no need for my body to react. I was hard. I held the small of her back and kissed her until she began to tug at my shirt.

  I pulled off my shirt and tossed it into the bathroom. Her eyes fell on the scar on my chest and I had a panic attack. The fear of the scar souring the mood caused my balls to tighten. I debated trying to explain it right then and there before she calculated I was a psychopath and decided to leave. I opened my mouth but before I could say anything her mouth was on mine again and she was fumbling with the button and zipper of my pants.

  Rain pelted the roof and my panic peaked when she finally lowered my zipper. There was always a part of me that wanted to scream in terror the first time I ever had sex with a girl. I wanted to fuck the girl so bad and couldn’t think of anything else but slipping my cock inside her. But in those three seconds before she actually saw my cock my brain always screamed ‘oh god what if she thinks it’s too small or weird looking or I’m a terrible fuck’ and then it’s over and my dick is out and she doesn’t care and she still wants to fuck me. At least that’s how it has always ended previously. And like that, Rachel sprung me free of my wet pants and underwear and was stroking me and kissing me and I began to struggle to completely remove my wet pants and underwear as they protested and clung to my legs. I broke our kiss and embarrassingly hopped around until I was liberated from my clothing while Rachel watched and giggled at me as she unfastened and removed her bra to reveal small firm breasts with hard nipples.

  She walked backward toward the bed and sat. I bent to kiss her. She maneuvered back on the bed and I followed her, our mouths locked together the whole time. She grabbed my cock and stroked it, nearly pulling me over the edge. I pulled my mouth from hers and licked and kissed along her neck. She let go of my cock. Her skin tasted earthy from the rainwater and it seemed appropriate as the thunderstorm outside was the soundtrack for what was happening. I teased her already hardened nipples with my tongue as she moaned, biting one lightly until she gasped. I trailed my tongue down to her bellybutton as her stomach muscles tightened and she laughed softly. I looked up to her and she smiled down at me. She ran her fingers into my wet hair and I took it as an approval to eat her pussy.

  I rose to my knees and she eyed my cock as I grabbed either side of her wet panties and removed them. Her pussy was hairless and I felt like I’d hit a jackpot. I loved to orally pleasure a woman and nothing was more enticing than one who was freshly shaved. I slid down on the bed and repositioned my dick before lying on my stomach. Her cunt smelled intoxicating and I tentatively began to eat her while watching her for a negative or positive reaction to my technique. She cooed and stroked my hair and I slid a finger into her wet pussy and manipulated her. My erection was becoming more painful with each passing minute and Rachel’s moans increased.

  After a few minutes she said, “I want to fuck you.”

  I withdrew my fingers from her and sucked her juices from them as she sat up. She got on all fours and directed me to lie on my back. I repositioned to lie on my back on the bed with a pillow under my head. She mounted me and guided my cock into her slowly. I groaned as she rode me slowly. She placed her hands on my chest to steady herself and I was only vaguely aware one of her hands was on the scarred symbol. I grabbed her waist as she worked and resisted the urge to lift my hips and thrust into her and fuck her as hard as I possibly could until I came.

  She suddenly dismounted me, spun around reverse cowgirl, and reinserted my cock into her pussy. She bent forward, putting pressure on my cock, and gently caressed my balls before sliding her hand to her clit to stimulate herself. I grabbed her ass cheeks to spread them and peered down to watch my slick dick slide in and out of her cunt while she rode me. Her thrusts began to slow and she masturbated herself faster. I licked one of my thumbs and pressed it against her anus. She cooed louder and I took it as an approval. I slowly began to press the tip of my thumb into her anus and she suddenly cried out. Her pussy spasmed around my cock as she orgasmed. She bucked her hips and rode my cock while stroking herself. She placed a hand on the bed behind her and leaned back. She flipped her head back to look at me upside down before slapping her own clit loudly and moaning. She lay back on me and I ran my hand over the hand she was masturbating with. She removed her hand and allowed me to rub her clit for her. I squeezed one of her taut nipples with my free hand as she wriggled and moaned and tried to fuck me.

  I couldn’t take the buildup anymore. I sat up and, in doing so, forced her to sit too. She made a surprised and confused sound and I asked her to lie flat on her stomach. She complied in a teasing way by starting on her hands and knees and slowly lowering herself and made sure to make her ass the prominent feature. I stroked myself slowly as I watched her. She crossed her hands in front of her face and laid her head on them, her face turned to the side to watch me over her shoulder. I straddled her thighs and she lifted her ass slightly and smiled at me. I guided my cock into her cunt, grabbed her hips, and began to fuck her with everything I had. She slipped one of her hands under her and began to masturbate herself again. She made pained faces at me over her shoulder as I fucked her. I felt my orgasm building deep in my bowels and suddenly the question of birth control crossed my mind.

  I slowed down and whispered, “Is it okay if I come in you?”

  “Oh, yes, please, I’m coming again! Please fuck me!”

  I didn’t need any more direction. She moaned loudly and repeated ‘oh fuck’ a few times as I jackhammered her with everything I had. My orgasm was so sudden and strong the release was painful and made me nauseated. I collapsed on top of her to catch my breath but didn’t put all of my weight on her. I panted on the back of her neck as she cooed. My penis began to shrink inside of her and I withdrew from her and lay on my back beside her.

  Still on her stomach she propped herself up on her elbows and looked at me. She smiled and I think I might have fallen in love with her, exposed and vulnerable in post coitus. It felt unreal to be with such a beautiful girl. A faint beam of sunlight tried to shine through the window by the bed and I realized the storm had passed and the sound of rain pattering on the roof was water dripping from the trees.

  I touched her hair and said, “I don’t feel like I deserve this.”

  Her eyes darted away from mine in an embarrassed expression and her smile faded as I recognized she was looking at the scar on my chest. I stared at her face as she reached for my scar and ran her fingers over the smooth lines of the symbol. She appeared concerned and confused.

  “What happened?” she said.

  I didn’t want to lie to her. “Uh.” I struggled to come up with a way to explain it. “I was having some issues and . . . I’m not sure why I did it—”

  “Are you a cutter?” She looked me over for any additional scars.

  “No. I don’t know what happened. I can get pretty self-loathing sometimes but I’ve never been one to hurt myself. Obviously there’s a family history of mental illness but . . .” I shrugged. “It was dumb. I’m not suicidal. It’s kinda embarrassing.”

  She traced the lines and said, “It looks like a symbol. Does it mean anything?”

  “Not that I�
�m aware of.” I searched her concerned face as she stared at the scar. “Please don’t think I’m crazy. I’m pretty certain it was caused by an episode of high stress and lack of sleep and—”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t think you’re crazy.”

  “You said you had to deal with weirdos and I don’t want you to think I’m one of them.”

  “Not even close,” she said.

  She kissed me and I started to become aroused again. It had been years since I was able to bounce back so quickly. She rolled onto her back and began to stoke her cunt.

  “Again,” she whispered.

  She didn’t have to tell me twice.

  20

  After we were done having sex the second time we retreated to the bathroom to shower together, which quickly led into her fellating me after we were finished. She playfully and slowly manipulated my cock while she masturbated. I didn’t think there would be anything left in me after the third time but she was able to coax me into fucking her while she bent over the back of the sofa.

  She dug through my dresser and found a pair of pajama pants with a drawstring waist I hardly ever wore and a worn tank top of mine to wear while I laundered her clothes. I made spaghetti and garlic toast for supper. When her clothes were dry I brought them upstairs but she continued to wear my clothing.

  We sat on the deck and talked about each other’s childhood. I told her about what it was like being raised with an older brother and by a single mom and how the three of us worked hard and together to keep the household afloat. She told me about her parents who had both worked factory jobs and how she and her sister were latchkey kids like Phillip and I. We had more in common than we both expected. When you were left to your own devices at an early age you discover how self-sufficient you can be and there isn’t any need for anyone else. It caused your relationships to suffer for the rest of your life until you met someone who’d been raised the same way.

  There were other things we shared. Like being an outsider among your peers. She had difficulty being accepted amongst schoolmates because of her hands and it was the reason she forwent going to college. I had difficulty making friends because I was poor and was lucky to be at any one given school for the full year. Granted, her situation was far more hurtful in the development of a person’s social growth but we both had a good dose of what it was like to be alone aside from one sibling.

  We talked about the horrors and tortures of having an older sibling and laughed at how important we thought our childhood worries were back then. We began to drink beer after night fell and toasted to failed relationships. The cat eventually joined us on the deck as we drank and talked and he took to lying in Rachel’s lap and allowed her to pet him. Once it grew late and we both had a good beer buzz and were sleepy we retreated into the cabin. The cat joined us.

  We settled into bed and I spooned her but our cuddling graduated into groping as we both sought each other in the dark. We had sex lazily in the darkness and my orgasm cleared the beer haze from my brain momentarily. Before falling asleep I thought about how tacky our naked skin felt against one another and how I would probably wake up sweating from her body heat and how lucky I was to meet her and for once I’d met someone who made me feel comfortable in my own skin and it was serene.

  21

  I felt moving pinpoints of pressure on my chest. Something fuzzy tickled my nose and dragged me from a dreamless sleep. The fuzz solidified into something hard under my nose and forced itself past my lips and into my mouth. The points of pressure on my chest rooted themselves to gain leverage and force the fuzziness deeper into my mouth.

  Panic cleared the sleep and leftover beer from my brain. My mouth was stretched wide and the hard furry thing blocked my throat and my ability to breathe. In the darkness I grasped at the object entering my mouth. Once I had my hands around it I knew I had ahold of the cat. He buried his claws into my neck and chest and forced himself deeper into my throat. The scratches burned like acid and I thrashed and tore at him to get him to stop. The pain as the cat forced himself into my throat was unbearable and I flopped around on the bed like a fish out of water. I wasn’t able to scream and the more I tried to pull the cat the more he cemented his progress and ripped at my flesh with his claws.

  I slapped the bed beside me in a desperate attempt to find Rachel and alert her to the horrific situation. I needed her help. I had to remove the cat before he suffocated me or ripped open my esophagus. But Rachel wasn’t in the bed. I wanted to think it was a nightmare. I tried to tell myself to wake up. But the pain was tremendous and nothing I’d ever experienced in a nightmare and I knew there was no mistake. This was not a dream. This wasn’t a fever-induced hallucination. This wasn’t a mental illness. This was real and I was going to die.

  Flecks of red began to swirl in the darkness and I knew my vision was being affected from the lack of oxygen. I pulled frantically at the cat and tried to sit up. The cat had invaded far enough down my throat that I could feel his head in the center of my chest like the worst case of heart burn I’d ever experienced. It felt like I’d swallowed a cinderblock. The cat’s hind legs and tail were the only parts left protruding from my mouth. I’d begun to sweat profusely and my hands kept slipping from his squirming back legs. I desperately thrashed on the bed in a last attempt to call attention to my dire situation or to squish the cat and force him to retreat.

  Where was Rachel? Couldn’t she hear me struggling? Didn’t she know I was dying? Did she even care?

  My arms and legs began to tingle and became weak. My stomach burned and swelled as the last of the cat slid down my throat and past my windpipe. I was finally able to swallow large gulps of air. But the rise and fall of my chest caused even more pain.

  I began to shake uncontrollably and I tried to process what had happened and how the fuck I was still alive. This isn’t real, I told myself.

  The cat scratched my insides and fidgeted until he was able to curl up into a comfortable position like a demented fetus in its mother’s belly. Rivulets of sweat poured down my body. The pain was excruciating and I thought if this was real I would lose consciousness any moment and slip into the soft dark void of death. I could taste blood and I groaned as I struggled to my feet.

  I had to turn the light on. Once I turned the light on there would be something out of place or the dream would transition into something else completely illogical and the cat would disappear and I would wake up to find Rachel beside me and the damn cat asleep on my chest and I would roll over and fall back asleep and laugh it off in the morning over coffee with Rachel.

  This is a dream. This is a dream. Wake up. Wake up!

  I held the painful bulge in my stomach and stumbled to the light switch. The light was blinding and the pain in my gut caused me to double over. A football size and shape lump protruded from my midsection. I managed to rasp Rachel’s name. I squinted against the light and saw everything with the crystal clarity of reality and knew without a doubt I wasn’t dreaming.

  I looked around the cabin but Rachel wasn’t anywhere. The bathroom door was open and empty. Her clean clothes were still neatly folded and sitting on the dresser. The clothes of mine she’d borrowed lay discarded on the floor. Her shoes and keys still sat on the doormat by the door.

  I grabbed my cellphone off the dresser and, as usual, there was no signal. The cat shifted in my stomach. I gripped my midsection, bent over, and cried out in pain. I stumbled to the sofa and collapsed on my side, facing the coffee table. The laptop was open on the table but the screen was asleep. I touched the keypad to wake the computer. My hands were shaking violently and I was forced to wait for the computer to do its thing. I managed to sit up and opened the Internet browser. The homepage sat blank and took an extraordinarily long time to load before giving me an error code and telling me to check my Internet connection. I looked at the router box by the television and noticed none of the lights were flashing, indicating it wasn’t functioning. I cursed and the cat shifted in my gut aga
in and a twinge of red hot pain shot into the tip of my tailbone. I screamed and knew I had to get help. I assumed I was going to die anyway but I had to at least try. I had the overwhelming feeling there was nothing a doctor or hospital or even an exorcist could do for me.

  If there was any hope I had one option left.

  I made it to my feet and held my stomach firmly in the hopes I could keep the cat from moving and causing any more damage or pain. Time was running out. I could feel the oppressive sense of doom and death and hopelessness as I sought for one good reason why I shouldn’t give up and lie down and wait for it all to end.

  Rachel. Phillip. I had two reasons.

  It was ridiculous to think I was in love with Rachel but there was definitely a budding of something new and wonderful and invigorating and I wanted whatever seedling we created whether it was love or obsession or just plain fucking. I needed it. And whether it continued or ended it didn’t matter because at least at the end we both could say we tried and there were no regrets when you tried and failed.

  And the thought of dying on Phillip was heartbreaking. I couldn’t imagine how he would feel after having lost the last piece of his heritage. I know how I would feel. He was family. He had been there since the day I was born. I had known him and fought with him and loved him and looked to him for guidance and gave guidance in return for my whole life. When Dad died something of myself died with him. The same thing happened when Mom died. But I was certain anything left inside of me that could be construed as a will or a soul would be shattered the day Phillip died and I was left all alone and severed from any direct link to another human being. I thought about losing Phillip off and on since Mom’s death and, when I did, an image of an astronaut drifting slowly into space without a tether to the craft they’d come from always came to mind. Phillip was the only person keeping me tethered to humanity and I hoped he felt something like that for me also and I never wanted to be the one who broke the line.