A Psycho and his Disciple

by Athan,Jon

  Lucas pointed towards the center of the living room with the knife. He said, “Go ahead and kill one of them. You kill one and I promise I'll let this little whore live. You've got my word and my word is the most valuable gift in the world. Go on. Prove it, boy. Prove your loyalty to me.”

  Dean scrunched his face as he gazed into Lori's sorrowful eyes. The love of his life shook her head, begging without saying a word. She didn't want to spill her own family's blood for her safety. Yet, Dean felt compelled to save her. He couldn't lose the only spark of hope in his miserable life. He glanced at Ricky, then towards Bonnie

  Which one?–he thought.

  ***

  Dean walked towards the downed teenager and woman. The pair writhed in agony on the floor, squirming like worms in mud. Only Bonnie was restrained by a tight cable while Ricky remained free to move about. Yet, the high school student couldn't muster the strength to leave. He was shot twice and the loss of blood had already started to take its toll on him.

  Before Dean could decide which person to kill, Bonnie weakly said, “Kill me... Kill me, sweetheart. Don't...” She sniffled as she struggled to speak, wrestling to swallow her pain. She said, “Don't let him touch my babies. Don't let him hurt them. Please...”

  Lucas tossed the knife on the sofa and said, “Do it. Kill the poor woman. Put her out of her misery. Remember, she's partly responsible for this. She deserves it. Don't let your emotions stop you. Kill her and move on.”

  Teary-eyed, Dean glanced back at Lucas and asked, “How? I've... I've never killed anyone before. You know that. How do I... How do I kill her? How could I hurt her? She didn't do anything wrong. Can't we talk about this? Can we do something else?”

  “Don't make me pull the trigger. I know you don't want to see this whore's blood on these walls. That's the last thing you want.”

  With a quivering lip, Dean grabbed the knife from the sofa. He wasn't ready to kill Bonnie, but he wanted to appease the wicked killer. He could see Lucas' finger twitching on the trigger. The man was itching for a killing, waiting for Dean to test him. He would gladly kill Lori, too – she was the root of all evil, after all.

  Dean glanced at Lori and nodded at her. Lori returned the nod, then she tightly shut her eyes – a motion of understanding.

  As he stared down at Bonnie, Dean asked, “How do I kill her? What should I do?”

  Watching his pupil with a pair of inquisitive eyes, Lucas responded, “Just use everything I've taught you.”

  With each wheeze, rapid and crackling, Dean trembled and twitched. He stood over Bonnie, trying to justify his inevitable actions. The woman treated him like a son when he had nowhere to stay. He was accepted into the family. They couldn't afford to roll out a red carpet for him, but they gave him a sense of purpose – a sense of belonging. Killing Bonnie would be like killing his own mother.

  He whispered, “I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm so sorry for everything.”

  He placed his knee on her spine. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and lifted her head from the floorboards. He placed the tip of the blade on the left side of her throat. The honed blade constantly pricked her neck as his hand trembled. He did not have the skilled hands of a surgeon. He didn't even have the skill of a savage serial killer like Lucas.

  Dean closed his eyes, mentally banishing himself from the room. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. The blade penetrated Bonnie's throat, puncturing the skin and cutting into an artery. He tugged on the knife, dragging the blade across her neck, like if he were dragging his fingertips across the surface of a pond. In his mental absence, he imagined the blood drenching his fingers was merely warm, muddy water.

  Serenity, he thought, it's all a dream.

  Dean fell back, tumbling out of his daydream and falling into a nightmare. Sitting on his buttocks, he stared at his victim with wide eyes – eyes filled with terror. Bonnie wiggled in every direction, trying her damnedest to break free from her restraints. Blood spilled from the four-inch gash on her throat, splashing on the floor like a downpour. Despite the fatal laceration, the woman clung to life. Human instinct forced her to fight for survival, even when she was willing to die.

  Lucas chuckled, then he said, “Damn, boy, you really did a number on her. Shit, I thought you would have given her the easy way out. You really wanted to torture her, didn't you?”

  Dean shook his head and said, “No, no. Wha–What do I do?”

  “You know what to do, boy. Don't play stupid now. Put her out of her misery or watch her suffer. You're not going to save her, obviously.”

  “How do I... How do I kill her, Lucas? What do I do? Please, help me.”

  Lucas huffed at Dean's pleas, then he said, “Push that knife through the back of her head.” He rubbed the back of his head, directly above the nape of his neck. He said, “Jam it right through there and she'll die. Make sure you push it hard, though. You want to get through all of that flesh and bone. You don't want her to suffer anymore than she has to, right?”

  Dean nodded in agreement. A serial killer was the best teacher in the craft of murder. The young man fell on top of Bonnie, using his body weight to pin her down. He knew she couldn't control her convulsions, but he needed some balance to perform the daunting task. Bonnie gargled her own blood, coughing and grunting as she struggled to speak.

  Dean whispered, “It's almost over...”

  Between his heavy breaths, Ricky said, “Don't... Don't kill my mom. Don't do it. Don't...”

  Dean sobbed as he gazed into the teenager's somber eyes. He said, “Turn around, Ricky. Turn around.”

  Ricky bawled as he turned away. Dean ignored his cries and proceeded with the murder. He placed the tip of the blade on the back of Bonnie's head at a 45-degree angle. He wanted to penetrate her skull and brain with a diagonal thrust. With both hands gripping the handle, he sat up behind her, then he used all of his strength and body weight to stab her.

  Bonnie stopped convulsing. The knife protruded from the back of her head. Her blonde hair was painted red with blood. She stiffened with the stabbing, then she became limp and motionless. She wasn't breathing, she wasn't living.

  Dean sniffled as he slowly pulled the blade out of her head. Aside from the devastated siblings' whimpering, the living room was dominated by an eerie silence. The world stopped moving for a brief moment to formally recognize Dean's first murder – to announce the young man's descent to hell. He was not proud of his actions, though. The silence of abandonment was worrisome.

  Lucas' eyes, on the other hand, were filled with pride and joy. Like a parent watching his son during a wedding ceremony, he was at a lost for words. He wanted to pat his back and congratulate him, he wanted to carry him on his shoulders and parade him through town. Look, everyone, it's my son! He finally murdered an innocent person!

  Before Lucas could say a word, Dean hurtled into the kitchen. He tossed the bloodied blade into the sink then he leaned over the countertop. He retched and gagged, trying to force himself to vomit to no avail. The murder made him feel sick, contorting his stomach and tormenting his mind. He turned the knob on the sink and washed the blood away with the lukewarm water.

  Dean whispered, “What have I done?” The young man returned to the kitchen archway with the knife in his right hand. He glared at Lucas and demanded, “Let her go. Now.”

  Lucas smirked and responded, “Not yet.”

  With bloodshot eyes, Dean wagged the knife at his former mentor and said, “Let her go. You made a promise and you're going to keep it. This has nothing to do with her. This is between you and me now. So, let her go and let's get this over with.”

  “No. It's not over yet, son.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The End of the Line

  “It can't end this way,” Lucas said. “No, no. If I just let it end like this, then it'll haunt me for the rest of my life. There's a problem, Dean. There's a big fucking problem in our hands. You see, there's still one person left. A young man who saw my face. A young man who hea
rd my name. A young man who will squeal like a pig as soon as the cops get a hold of him. We can't let it end like that.”

  Dean glanced at Ricky, connecting the pieces of the puzzle faster than a person with a photographic memory. Ricky was a liability to Lucas. The young teenager could surely find the difference between murder and coercion, but Dean still feared Ricky would blame him. A single confession – no matter how justifiable the deed – could snowball out of control.

  Dean asked, “What do you want?”

  As he stared at the teenager, Lucas responded, “I want you... I want you to rape that boy like you raped that woman in her apartment. You remember, right? When you're done, you'll let me kill him. That's it. That's the end.”

  With saliva pouring out of his mouth, Ricky crawled a foot forward and yelled, “Help! Help me! Please! Call the cops!”

  As Dean took three steps forward, ready to stab the intruder, Lucas shoved the gun deeper into Lori's mouth and demanded, “All of you better shut up and stop moving. I'll blow this bitch's brains out, then I'll kill the two of you. You hear me?” As Ricky whimpered and Dean stepped back, Lucas said, “That's right. The way I see it is: all three of you can die or two of you can walk out of here with your lives ahead of you. It's your choice.”

  With a nervous smile, delirious and unstable, Dean stuttered, “Wh–Why? Wha–What good will that do for us? Huh? What... What will raping him do? What's wrong with you, Lucas? Why are you acting like this, man?”

  “There's nothing wrong with me. I just need you to... to comply. That's something one of those correctional officers would tell me everyday when I was in trouble or when he came for a visit. 'I just need you to comply.' I need the same from you. I need to know I can trust you. I need your DNA on all of these people. That way, I know you won't rat.”

  Dean understood the motive behind Lucas' actions, but he refused to justify his savagery. He held the knife up, trying to muster the courage to attack. He could see the fear in Lori's eyes as Lucas shoved the gun deeper into her mouth. He couldn't tell if she feared death or if she was appalled by the killer's request – perhaps both.

  Lucas said, “You can try it if you want, boy. She's already deep-throating this gun. I'm sure a bullet would kill her in an instant.” He smirked as he spotted the reluctance in his student's eyes – same old Dean. He said, “I'll let her go. I just need to know you won't rat after you leave. You understand that, don't you? I'm looking out for myself, sure, but I'm doing this for you too, son. I'm trying to make sure you can walk out of here a free man. Both of you can leave and live a happy life. You can call the cops, report the crime, tell them some thug came in here and slaughtered your family. You can tell them whatever you want, you just can't tell them it was me or we'll all go down. I need you to get your hands dirty – so dirty that you'll never be able to clean them. Don't worry about the other details, either. I'll move the bodies before the cops get here – if they get here. I'll handle everything. You know me.”

  Dean rubbed his eyes and wept. He said, “I can't. I can't do it.”

  Lucas stomped and barked, “You can! Do it or she dies! Do it!”

  Dean lurched towards Lori's younger brother, flustered by the barbaric demand. Ricky, dazed by the loss of blood, planted his nose and lips on the dusty floorboards. He couldn't look at Dean and he couldn't handle his sister's weeping. His mother and father were already dead. As far as he was concerned, he was next in line.

  As he pulled on Ricky's shorts, Dean whispered, “I'm sorry... I don't know what else to do.”

  In a muffled tone, Ricky responded, “Don't do it. Fuck, man, just don't do it. He's lying to you.”

  Dean stared up at the teenager's head and whispered, “I know.”

  As if a bulb had illuminated over his head, Dean formulated an idea. His hands trembled as he tugged on the teenager's shorts, but to no avail. He could not get a firm grip on the garment with his trembling fingers. The young man's weight and position didn't help. On the surface, it seemed like an utter failure. To Dean, his plot was just beginning.

  Dean glanced over at Lucas and asked, “Can... Can you help me? Can we do this together?”

  Lucas furrowed his brow upon hearing the request. His face glowed with unusual exuberance – true happiness. The request was special, like a son asking his father to pass down a family secret. The pride he felt for Dean became unadulterated love. He's family, he thought, he doesn't deserve to die because of a little mistake.

  Lucas said, “Sure, sure. I'll be right there, boy.” He slowly stepped away from Lori. He said, “You sit in that corner and watch. You scream, you die. It's that simple.”

  Lori fell to her knees, shaking uncontrollably. Lucas stepped to Ricky's side, gazing at the young man with devious eyes. The teenager's panic and fear only served to arouse him. He placed the revolver on the ground behind him, then he tugged on his shorts.

  Lucas said, “Get up, boy. Make this easy for me and I'll finish in a minute.”

  Ricky sobbed and shook his head, refusing to budge for the serial killer. With his arms under his body, he secretly held his shorts up.

  Lucas said, “Come on. Don't play hard-to-get. You can make this easy for yourself and your sister.”

  Ricky muttered, “Fuck you... Fuck you...”

  Lucas smiled as he glanced at Dean. Dean nervously returned the smile – just like old times, right? The pair shared a chuckle, laughing at the awkward situation. Lucas continued to tug on the teenager's shorts, hitting him in the stomach with his knees to move him. Dean, on the other hand, kept his eyes locked on the revolver. He waited for the perfect opportunity.

  As he spotted the gash on the teenager's leg, Lucas shoved Ricky's shorts up. He couldn't pull them down, but he could adjust them. He pushed up the shorts until he could see the grisly entrance wound. The bullet was still lodged in his tender thigh.

  Lucas ran his finger around the rim of the wound and said, “Well, it looks like this boy just won't make it easy. He's hardheaded like his stupid mother. So, how about we have a little fun with a different hole?” Ricky screeched as Lucas tried to shove his finger into the bullet wound. The killer said, “It's tight right now, but I think I can make it wider. I'll make myself fit. Yeah, I think I can squeeze in there.”

  Lucas nodded in excitement as he stared at the puny hole. It wasn't a pretty sight, but he could make-do. He'd have sex with anything with or without a pulse – anything. His bloodied fingers slipped and slid as he tried to unbuckle his belt. Ricky tried to wiggle away, but he could barely move a few inches forward.

  With the killer's fingers jammed into his waistband and tangled in his belt, Dean seized the opportunity to pounce. In one swift movement, he leaped over Ricky's body and grabbed the revolver. He slid across the hardwood floor on his shoulder, then he quickly turned towards Lucas. His finger sat on the trigger.

  Wide-eyed, Lucas staggered to his feet and stepped in reverse. From happy to frightened, his mood shifted in an instant. The situation felt surreal. Much like Ricky when he tried to escape, the savage intruder felt like he was trapped in time. He could see the look of resentment in Dean's eyes. The betrayal hurt him more than any prison stabbing or beating.

  Lucas stuttered, “Wha–What are... What are you going to do? Are you going to shoot me? Huh? I'm like... I'm like your father, boy. You're going to kill your father, Dean? Is that it?” Dean did not respond – but the silence was enough. Lucas shouted, “If you're going to do it, then do it! Shoot me, Dean! Kill me! Kill–”

  Lucas was interrupted by the deafening gunfire. From the ground, Dean fired five rounds. Three rounds hit the ceiling, another hit Lucas' right shoulder, and the final gunshot penetrated his stomach. Lucas grimaced and gritted his teeth as he plummeted to the floor, falling down on his face. He landed next to the injured teenager. He squirmed and groaned for ten seconds, then he stopped.

  Trembling from the event, Dean whispered, “Lucas? Lucas? Are you... Are you okay?” He shook his head and shudde
red as he stared down at the smoking gun. He glanced at himself, disgusted and hurt, then he murmured, “It... It wasn't my fault. I'm sorry.”

  From the corner of the room, Lori said, “Help me, Dean. Please, help me.”

  Dean nodded as he snapped out of his contemplation. He lurched towards Lori and tried to untie the cord. To his dismay, the restraint was tight and durable. Yet, he did not quit. Veins bulged from his brow and neck as he tugged on the cord. Before he could finish, he stopped and furrowed his brow. Lori was equally baffled and astonished.

  The sound of emergency sirens was approaching.

  Dean smiled and said, “The police... The police...”

  Dean glanced over his shoulder upon hearing the groaning floorboards. His eyes widened, his heart sank, and his limbs trembled. He was shocked by his discovery, paralyzed by his fear.

  Lucas hurtled towards the couple in the corner, screaming at the top of his lungs – a fierce battle cry. He pushed Dean aside, then he jammed a knife into Lori's throat. He twisted the knife, then he ran the blade across her throat. Blood spurted from the gash like water from a shower head – warm, relaxing droplets.

  Dean stared in shock as Lucas tumbled back to the floor and as Lori slid down the wall. His girlfriend grunted and groaned, gargling her blood like mouthwash in the morning. Lucas grinned from ear-to-ear, visibly proud of his surprise attack.

  Dean glanced at Lucas and shouted, “What did you do?! Why couldn't you leave me alone?! Why couldn't you just die, you sick bastard?”

  He staggered towards Lori, sobbing and shaking. He didn't know how to save her, he didn't know how to stop the bleeding. Like if he were strangling her, he wrapped his hand around her neck and tried to block the wound. He figured it would be enough to keep her alive until the paramedics arrived, but he was afraid he would accidentally choke her.

  Dean said, “Don't die, Lori. They're going to be here any minute. Just... Just stay with me a little longer. Talk to me. Tell me something. Come on.” Lori gazed into Dean's sorrowful eyes, incapable of speaking. With an anxious smile, Dean asked, “You... You wanna go for a walk this weekend? We can go to the park and go for a walk. Sound good to you? Huh? What do you think?”