A Psycho and his Disciple

by Athan,Jon

  Lucas licked his lips as he leered at the couple and rubbed his crotch. He stared at Lori's perky breasts, hoping for even the slightest view of her nipple. She was his type of woman – young, fit, and troubled. He even found himself taking a gander at Dean's figure. The young man was well-built, lean and nimble.

  Realizing he was staring at his former student more than the woman, Lucas slapped his forehead and staggered in reverse. The wooden fence groaned as he leaned back on the wobbly barrier. He punished himself with a few gentle slaps, trying to smack the aberrant thoughts out of his mind.

  The deviant man whispered, “What the hell did he do to me? That boy fucked with my mind, didn't he? He... He...”

  As he glanced back at the window, Lucas could see Dean staring towards him. The young man weaved and bobbed his head for a better view of the ruckus. The ex-convict crouched and lurched towards the backyard, forcefully squeezing through the tight space. He hurtled past a vacant bedroom, then he turned the corner – barely evading Dean's view.

  Peeking around the corner, Lucas could see light pouring into the narrow crack on the side of the house from Lori's bedroom. The unkempt grass and the rickety fence were illuminated – nothing more, nothing less. Dean's silhouette emerged as the young man checked the area for pesky prowlers. He was extremely vigilant, especially without Lucas by his side. He expected vengeance to creep up on him at any moment.

  As the light vanished, Lucas sighed in relief. He said, “Stupid boy... Stupid, stupid boy.”

  Lucas staggered to his feet and glanced around the backyard. The grass was thick but acceptable by most standards. There was a patio table with a large umbrella near the back door. The neighboring grill seemed to be dormant for years – perhaps as long as the patriarch's abusive reign. The backyard glowed with a grim aura.

  The killer did not care for the family's sad story, though. He reached for the back of his waistband, as if he were looking for something. His eyes widened as he felt the object he sought – a combat knife. He retrieved the knife and took a gander at the blade. The knife had a large eight-inch blade with serrations down the back of the stainless steel.

  He returned the knife to his makeshift holster, then he tapped his lower back until he felt the revolver protruding from his waistband. He was ready for his home invasion.

  Lucas said, “I'm coming, Dean...”

  ***

  With the revolver clenched in his right hand, Lucas approached the back door. He hunched down as he stared through the window on the door. He could see the flashing of the television at the end of the hallway and light pouring through an archway. The rest of the corridor was dominated by darkness – the perfect cover.

  He took two steps back, then he cocked his leg back like a soccer player preparing for a direct free kick. He paused as he gazed at the golden doorknob. The inanimate object caught his attention, calling to him – wait a second, bub, I might not be locked. A closed door didn't translate to a locked door. He didn't mind bursting into the house and killing everyone, but he decided to practice some restraint.

  Lucas' eyes widened as he turned the knob – it was open. He smirked and whispered, “I should have been checking the doors before I killed all of those people before. I probably could have gotten away with it, damn it...”

  Lucas carefully shoved the door open, trying to avoid any unnecessary noise – doors could squeal louder than a murder victim. Holding the revolver at a 45-degree angle, he stealthily entered the home. With a simple glance, he could see the first door to the right led to a basic bathroom. He didn't bother to check the first room to the left. He knew it was empty anyway.

  The intruder stopped upon reaching the second door. He leaned closer and planted his ear on the door. He could hear the bed screeching, squealing like a rat hidden in the walls – or a group of rats having an orgy, perhaps. In reality, the sound was faint and trivial. In Lucas' mind, the noise was obnoxious – a cacophonous symphony of ridicule. He bit his bottom lip as he leaned away from the door.

  Lucas hugged the wall to his right as he approached the archway. Ricky's room was directly across the hall. The killer thought about joining him at the movies, perhaps even taking the young man under his wing, but he was certain he would fail – especially after he executed his sinister plans. Maybe you'd be better than Dean, he thought, but we'll never find out.

  The ex-convict stared through the archway. He found himself staring into the kitchen. Unlike the rest of the home, the kitchen had white linoleum tile flooring instead of hardwood floorboards. There was another archway leading into the living room on the left. To the right, there was a fridge, a stove, granite countertops, and plenty of cupboards. There was a dining table at the center.

  Fortunately, the simplicity of the kitchen was an advantage to any intruder.

  Lucas tiptoed through the kitchen, quietly approaching the adjacent archway. From the curved opening, he could see the couple sitting on the sofa and the television. The pair watched the local news, occasionally blurting obscenities at each other. The sensationalized news didn't seem to capture their attention. Who would care about a dead drug dealer or a missing cashier?

  As he glanced at his wife, Lori's father said, “You should make yourself useful, Bonnie. Go get me a beer and some chips, will ya?”

  Bonnie glanced at the man with a deadpan expression, then she rolled her eyes. She said, “I'm not going to do that for you anymore. You might act like it, but you're not disabled. You can go into the kitchen and get your own damn food.”

  “Don't start this again, Bon. I ask for a little favor and you always blow it out of proportion. It pisses me off. Christ...”

  “Whatever.”

  Lucas sneered in disgust at the arguing couple. He didn't care about their rocky relationship or their broken family. The couple, however, reflected his relationship with Dean in a sense. The pair were toxic towards each other, filled with vitriol. Yet, the married couple made it work. Dean didn't give him the same opportunities.

  Lucas stepped into the living room, slowly approaching the bickering pair. He could see their lips moving, but he could no longer hear their words. He was focused on the task at hand – murder. With the muzzle of the revolver floating over the abusive man's bald spot, Lucas pulled the trigger.

  The thunderous gunshot echoed through the home, announcing the intruder's arrival. Lori's father fell off the sofa and plummeted to the hardwood floor. A streak of blood, some flesh, and bits of brain were spattered on the floor and television. The exit wound on his wrinkled brow gushed blood like an erupting volcano.

  Shocked, Bonnie stumbled off the sofa. She squirmed in reverse as she gazed at her murdered husband. Her eyes widened as she spotted the sinister smirk on Lucas' face – the man was unperturbed by his dastardly deed – he was no burglar. Panting like a dog in a summer heatwave, the woman shrieked and lurched towards the front door.

  Lucas fired one round, which struck the woman's lower back.

  Bonnie cried as she fell to the floor near the front door. She missed her exit by a meter. She tried crawling forward, flailing her arms to reach for the knob, but her efforts were fruitless – she was immobilized by the insufferable pain. The bullet missed her spine by a mere inch. To her dismay, she would not receive the same quick and painless death as her husband.

  Lucas stood over the woman and aimed the revolver at her dome. He said, “Your whore daughter has brought death to your door. Don't worry, though. I'll send them all down to hell with you in a minute, sweetheart.”

  “Mo–Mom?” Ricky stuttered from the hallway. He glanced at his downed mother, then towards Lucas. Teary-eyed, he stammered, “Sh–sh–shit...”

  Eyes brimming with tears, Bonnie shouted, “Run! Run, Ricky, run!”

  Lucas clicked his tongue, then he said, “I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

  Ricky glanced at his mother, begging for permission to abandon ship. She responded with a smile and a nod – go, son, I love you. The young man cried as h
e turned and ran towards the back door. The door was less than 10 meters away – about a quarter of his average 40-yard dash. For a brief moment, time slowed to a crawl. He could hear every beat from his heart and every breath from his lungs.

  Lucas smiled as he stared at the teenager. He admired his speed. The young man was fast, but he could not outrun a speeding bullet. The intruder fired two rounds, hitting the teenager's right thigh and lower back. Ricky yelped as he collapsed near the back door. Like his mother, he missed his exit by a meter.

  With a devious grin still plastered on his face, Lucas tilted his head and leered as Lori's bedroom door opened. Dean and Lori simultaneously protruded their heads into the hallway. Lori gasped and staggered to her knees upon spotting the grisly massacre. Dean stared at Lucas, awed by his sudden invasion. Lucas, on the other hand, was elated by the couple's appearance – better late than never.

  Giddy from the nightmarish discovery, Dean stuttered, “You–You... You followed me. Shit, you really followed me, you sick bastard.”

  Lucas aimed the revolver at the pair and said, “You two are downright stupid, aren't you? You should have jumped out your window when you heard these gunshots. You should have been running down the street, calling for help. Too late, I suppose. Now, get on your knees and crawl this way. Hurry up now, I don't have all night.”

  The pair remained motionless, stunned by the violence. They glanced at each other, nervous and frightened.

  The intruder wagged the gun at the couple and said, “I don't know about your neighbors, little lady. Whether they called the cops or not, that will determine how long you've got to live. That is, of course, if I don't kill all of you now. So, get on your knees and crawl this way. I want both of you to sit in the corner. I want you to have front row seats to the show...”

  Chapter Eighteen

  My Accomplice, My Love

  Dean and Lori huddled in the corner of the living room beside the kitchen archway. The couple trembled uncontrollably due to the unadulterated fear pumping through their veins. Although they found some comfort in each other, love could not trump the wicked man and his sinister deeds. Love could not revive the dead or heal a wound.

  Love was lost in the face of adversity.

  Lucas smiled as he aimed the revolver at the pair and savored their fear. He only had one bullet left in his firearm, but he figured he'd be able to injure one of them if he were challenged. If he missed, he was certain he could kill everyone in the house with his knife. Hell, he'd bet on himself if he only had his fists.

  Lucas said, “It's very simple, ladies and gentlemen. You move and you're dead. If either of you somehow manage to escape, I'll kill your mama and your brother. Your dad... Well, your old man didn't make it, but we know you would have wanted it this way anyway.”

  Lori couldn't muster the courage to respond to the tactless statement. She couldn't utter a single word, she couldn't form a hateful scowl. She trusted him with her personal life and he ridiculed her. Regret was often the harshest way to learn a lesson in life because it was taught when it was too late to learn.

  As Lucas dragged him into the living room, Ricky shouted, “Don't! Don't hurt us! Please, don't do this, man!”

  Lucas said, “Shut your mouth, boy. You don't want to get your entire family killed, do you?” The teenager whimpered as he turned away from the intruder. The killer said, “I thought so.”

  Using his handy combat knife, Lucas cut the cord from behind the television. He yanked the plug out of the socket, then he strolled towards Bonnie. Bonnie cried as she gazed into her son's eyes. She wanted to speak to him, she wanted to comfort him, but she didn't know what words to use. A mother's failure to protect her family caused unfathomable pain.

  As he wrapped the cord around Bonnie's body and tied it around her arms, Lucas said, “This is all your daughter's fault. All of this could have been avoided if it weren't for her.” He glanced at Lori's father, scowling at the dead man. He said, “This motherfucker, too. If he didn't hit your girl, she would have never ran away from home and she would have never met Dean at that diner. Hell, if you weren't such a weak mother and if you stood up to this old man every once in a while, maybe none of this would have happened. All of you are to blame. All of you.”

  While Lucas ranted, Dean leaned closer to Lori and whispered, “How long until the cops get here?” Lori did not respond. She was rattled by the shocking attack on her family. Dean poked her with his elbow and whispered, “Answer me, Lori. When do the cops usually get here?”

  Lori was lost in her thoughts, pondering life and death. A single blink caused a waterfall of tears to stream down her blushed cheeks. She sniffled and shuddered as she quietly whimpered. Dean gently placed his fingertips on her bare thigh, trying to comfort her with his gentle touch. He shared the same dread, but he kept himself composed. He had seen murder before.

  Lori glanced at Dean and whispered, “I... I don't think they even called the cops. I live... Fuck, I live next to a bunch of drug addicts and blue-collar workers. They won't care about a few gunshots. They've heard it before. They don't care...”

  “If they did, how long would it take.”

  “I don't know. Fifteen, maybe thirty minutes.”

  “Thirty minutes? Okay, okay. I just have to... to distract him until then. I can–”

  Dean paused as Lucas returned to the television, biting his tongue and tucking his tail. Lucas scoffed at the young man, shaking his head in disappointment. He cut the cord from the DVD player on the entertainment center and yanked the plug from the wall. He tossed the cable at Dean.

  Lucas pointed at Lori and said, “Tie her up.”

  Dean responded, “No. I can't do that. I won't do that.”

  “Tie her up, boy. This isn't a game. I'm not teaching you any lessons, I'm not giving you a hand. This is real. Tie her up.”

  Dean glanced at Lori – he could see the fear in her glimmering eyes. With a cracking voice, he said, “Let's just talk about this, Lucas. Just me and you, okay? Let's talk. I'm... I'm sorry. I'm sorry about everything. Please, don't do this.”

  Lucas aimed the gun at Lori and shouted, “Tie her up! Don't make me tell you again, boy! Don't you dare make me repeat myself, goddammit! If you don't listen to me, I'll have to stop her from moving some other way. A bullet to the head should do the trick, understand me?”

  Dean sobbed as he stared down at the cord. The cable was thick and long. He imagined himself using the cord as a whip to lash the gun out of Lucas' hand. He wasn't in a movie, though, and he certainly wasn't an action star. No, he was a coward and the cord was a restraint used to tie a person to an inevitably grim fate. With trembling hands, he wrapped the cord around Lori's arms and tied her biceps to her ribs.

  As Dean tied the young woman, Lucas said, “Don't feel bad about this. Like I told you before, it's her fault. She's responsible for all of this, so she should pay the price – the highest price.”

  The killer sniffled as he tried to keep his composure. Thinking about his strained relationship with Dean made him depressed.

  He said, “You were supposed to be my student. You were supposed to be my protege, you know? I was supposed to watch you grow up and continue the bloodline... You fucked all of that up. You brought a girl into our lives when you weren't ready and now I've got to kill all of you. It's fucked up, isn't it? It's all fucked up...”

  Dean shook his head and said, “No. It's good. We can still fix it. I'll help you, Lucas. I'm sorry about everything. I never meant to take it this far. I just wasn't thinking straight. I'm sorry. I... I can help you, though. Please, let me help you. Let's talk about this. That's what families do, right? They talk, don't they?”

  “I think your girlfriend would beg to differ, boy.”

  Lucas smirked as he glanced down at Lori's father, mocking the abusive structure of the Moore family. Dean bit his bottom lip as he stared down at the murdered man, despondent. He had seen death several times before, but the man's death was the most heinous. D
ue to the point-blank range of the gunshot, the wound at the back of the man's head was fairly small and symmetrical. The exit wound was different, though. The exit wound resembled a giant volcano spewing blood.

  Lucas tilted his head as he stared at the young man. He analyzed the sincerity in his former student's request. He knew Dean had a habit of lying to solve his problems. The young man was not as deceitful as Lucas, but he was willing to say anything to survive. He inherited some useful skills from the experienced killer, at least.

  Lucas aimed the gun at Dean and said, “Move over to the kitchen for a minute, son.”

  Dean held his hands up as he reluctantly slinked towards the archway. Lucas stepped to Lori's side. He retrieved his combat knife, then he placed the tip of the blade on her neck. The young woman squirmed as she felt the steel on her moist neck. Dean was baffled, trying to decipher Lucas' intentions. Before he could question him, he could see Lucas was simply reloading his revolver.

  As he slowly reloaded the weapon with one hand, stumbling and struggling, Lucas said, “I... I needed a little bit of leverage. You stay there or I might accidentally cut this woman's throat open. Give me a second.” As he finished reloading, Lucas grinned and said, “Okay. So, you want to help, right? You want to give me a hand? You want to go back to the old days and fix all of this? Well, prove it.”

  Lucas grabbed Lori's throat and lifted her to her feet. He pinned her to the wall, then he shoved the puny barrel of the revolver into her mouth. Bug-eyed, Lori screamed and squirmed, but to no avail. She couldn't shake off Lucas' mighty grip, she couldn't spit out the gun.

  Dean said, “Please, don't do this, Lucas. Don't hurt her. I'll do anything, I swear. I'll prove it to you. Just don't hurt her. Don't do this. I'm begging you.”