Twisted Shorts: Ten Chilling Short Stories

by Andrew Lennon

  “Or you can call me Dr Harrison.” He smiled.

  “Yes, um…Dr Harrison. Nice to meet you.” Words stumbled out of Scott’s mouth.

  “Likewise.” The doctor said.

  “Right OK, now you’ve met, we have to get going.” Jane said.

  “Yeah. It was nice to meet you, Dr Harrison.”

  “Have fun.”

  The doctor stood in the same spot and smiled as Jane and Scott left. He didn’t wave. He just kept his hands by his sides.

  While driving in his rusted old Ford Fiesta, Scott started to feel more pathetic. He looked at Jane. She looked like a princess. Now, he found out that she actually lived like a princess as well.

  And here she was with him.

  The pauper.

  “Jane. Does it bother you?” Scott asked “You know, that I’m not rich?”

  “Don’t be so bloody stupid! I’m insulted that you think I’m that shallow, Scott."

  She had a point. She had never said anything to Scott about her wealth. Or about his lack of it. Money had never been an issue before so he shouldn’t make it one now. Besides, he knew that her dad was a surgeon. He should have known that she was going to be rich.

  Why was is a big deal now?

  “You’re right. I’m sorry,” Scott said.

  “It’s fine.”

  “Your dad does scare me a bit though. I was so relieved when I met that little guy in green and then it turns out that your dad really is the big scary surgeon after all.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. There is nothing scary about Daddy. And besides, as long as you’re good to me then you have nothing to worry about. I’m a daddy’s girl you know. And he’ll do anything to protect me.”

  “What do you mean?” Scott asked. “That sounded like a threat. Did he tell you to say that?”

  “Well, he is a surgeon. You know what he could do to you.”

  “What!”

  Jane laughed. “Don’t be silly. I’m teasing you. Daddy is harmless. And regardless of what your stupid movies and fears tell you, surgeons save lives, dummy. They don't take them.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Scott laughed. “Well, he’s still creepy.”

  Jane gave him a playful punch on the arm.

  ****

  Driving home after their date night, Jane and Scott played the stereotypical young couple in love. They laughed. They giggled. The groped at each other, even while Scott was driving. Scott had a couple of drinks and he was feeling a little bit over confident.

  “Have you ever thought about giving head while I’m driving?”

  Jane spat her drink out as she laughed with the shock. Her orange Bacardi Breezer dripped down the passenger window.

  “You, sir, are seriously mistaken if you think I’m doing something like that in a car! I’m a lady.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Scott laughed. “Lady of the manor. Daddy’s girl.”

  “Yeah, and don’t you forget it.” Jane laughed.

  Her hand crept up Scott's thigh. She cupped as she reached his crotch. She could feel him rising from beneath his jeans.

  “There is something else I could do though,” she whispered.

  Jane unbuckled her seatbelt and started to pull his zipper down. Scott could feel himself hardening. He looked down to see if this was actually happening. He’d never felt so horny. He stared at Jane’s hand, waiting for it to creep into his fly.

  Suddenly the sound of a car horn caught his attention.

  He looked up to see a bright white light.

  The impact came before Scott had time to react. He jolted forward and smacked his face on the steering wheel.

  Jane flew through the windscreen.

  Dazed and confused, Scott looked up. Everything was a blur. He tried to focus but all he could see was red.

  The windscreen was bright red.

  He passed out.

  ****

  The car that Scott crashed into was empty besides from the driver. He walked away relatively untouched. Just a few bruises here and there, as did Scott. Jane died almost instantly. If being thrown through the windscreen didn’t do the job then the impact of the road when she hit it certainly did. Her face was so badly mutilated from the glass that her father barely recognised her.

  He had never felt so helpless. Dr Harrison had dedicated his whole life to surgery. He had always pushed himself to be the best he could be. Now, when his own daughter was lying on the table in front of him, there was nothing he could do. He just had to look at the messy remains from a car crash.

  Jane’s mother had died when Jane was three. She'd been diagnosed with cancer shortly before Jane’s birthday. The following two years were spent back and forth to chemotherapy sessions and doctor visits. Jane spent most of that time with child carers and a nanny. When the time came and Mrs Harrison lost her battle with cancer, Dr Harrison vowed that Jane would spend no more time under the care of other people. He would always be there whenever she needed him. She had lost her mother. She didn’t need to lose a father as well.

  She was going to be daddy’s girl.

  Having been so successful in earlier years, Dr Harrison was able to take a year off following his wife’s death. When Jane finally started school, Dr Harrison started up surgery again, but only during school hours. He insisted that he would not spend any time away in which his daughter may need him. He appointed Maurice as his personal assistant and Maurice dealt with all of his bookings to ensure that there would be no conflicts or crossovers.

  As Jane grew older, she needed her father less and less, such is the way of a teenager. However, he still insisted that he would only work during her school hours, just because she didn’t need him all the time didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be there all the time.

  If she needed him, he wanted to be available.

  He would do anything for daddy’s girl.

  ****

  Scott tried to attend Jane’s funeral, but Dr Harrison’s security staff wouldn’t let him get near. The doctor merely glanced up to look at the commotion that was being caused and then he looked back down at his daughter's grave.

  The report from the crash had shown that Scott had high levels of alcohol in his system. Was that entirely to blame for the crash? Perhaps not. Maybe it was due to the distraction while he was driving. But it didn’t matter. He had been drinking. If he hadn’t then maybe his reactions would've been better and he would have swerved out of the way of the oncoming car.

  Maybe if he hadn’t been drinking he wouldn’t have talked Jane into doing what she was doing and then he would never have been distracted in the first place. All that mattered was at the time of the crash, Scott was drunk. He blamed himself for the crash entirely.

  And so did everybody else.

  The law were yet to decide. Innocent until proven guilty.

  With the impending court dates imminent, Scott started to spend his days sitting on a bar stool. He would sit alone, running the accident over in his head, ignoring anyone that talked to him. Apart from the barman. He would talk to him to order his beer and then stay silent again until he needed a refill. He would stay there until the bar closed or most times until he was too drunk to hold himself up. Then the kind staff of the bar would escort him outside and show him the most comfortable wall to lean up against. He’d lost track of the amount of times he woke in the drunk tank at the local police station. Enough so that he was on a first name basis with most of the officers there.

  He was fined regularly for his stays in the drunk tank, but it didn’t bother him too much, even with the court dates pending. Surprisingly, when you only spend money on alcohol and the bare minimum of food to survive, it lasts longer than you would think. Having been signed off work with clinical depression and lying on almost every medical claim form he could, Scott had quite a considerable income through various benefits and disability allowances. He would never have enough to buy a mansion like Doctor Daddy, but hopefully he would have enough to see him through to an early grave.

 
Rather the grave than a prison cell.

  Friends and family had visited Scott and tried to talk him into getting his life back together. They tried the approach of telling him that this isn’t what Jane would have wanted. When that didn’t work they tried the harsh approach of telling him that it was drink that killed her in the first place and ruined his life, so why would he spend so much time with it? Nothing worked. Scott ignored everyone. He had decided what he was going to do with his life now and that was to drink until his body gave up on him. Then it was all over, hopefully before prison came a knocking.

  Perhaps in the afterlife he would meet Jane again.

  They had only been together a few months, but Scott was so sure that Jane was the one. Having her ripped from his life in the way she was just made those feelings stronger. She was his only chance of happiness and it was taken away from him. Or he destroyed that chance. It didn’t matter. There would never be another one so there was no point in trying.

  ****

  “Beer,” Scott ordered.

  The barman said nothing back. He just carried on his normal ritual of refilling Scott’s glass and taking his money. Scott, realising his court date was tomorrow, didn’t care. All hope was gone.

  A small man entered the bar. Scott could see him out the corner of his eye but he didn’t pay much attention to him. The man cautiously approached Scott and tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Scott?” the man asked.

  Scott didn’t reply. He didn’t even turn around, he just carried on drinking his drink.

  “Excuse me, Scott,” the man spoke again.

  “Do I know you?” Scott asked without turning.

  “Yes, yes we have met once before. My name is Maurice. I work for –”

  “–Dr Harrison.” Scott turned around suddenly interested.

  “Yes, Dr Harrison.”

  “So, what do you want? I thought the doctor wanted me dead, surely he wouldn’t send you for that? No offence, mate, but I don’t think you could take me.”

  “No, no,” Maurice laughed. “Dr Harrison would like the pleasure of your company for dinner.”

  “No.” Scott turned back around.

  “He said you would say that, but he also said that if you really wanted forgiveness for Jane’s death then you would reconsider.”

  Is this what I need? Would having dinner with that man finally let me get on with my life? Perhaps if he can forgive me. Perhaps it would look better in court. Then I can learn to forgive myself?

  “When?” Scott asked.

  “Well…" Maurice paused for a moment. "Now.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes. I’m afraid that the doctor has to leave on business tomorrow so it would have to be today.”

  “Well, can I at least go home and change?”

  “No need for that, I assure you. The doctor does not care about your appearance. He just wants your company for dinner.”

  “Right then.” Scott downed his beer and belched. “Let's go, Maurice.”

  ****

  After the short drive in the Porsche that Scott extremely enjoyed, they arrived at Dr Harrison’s house.

  Jane’s house.

  It looked smaller than he recalled. Maybe Jane's death had sucked the life from it. Maurice led the way and opened the front door. Scott followed. Dr Harrison was waiting when they entered. He was just as Scott remembered him - stood straight and tall with his hands by his sides.

  “Dr Harrison…” Scott started.

  “Scott, thank you for coming. Please come this way. Thank you, Maurice.”

  The doctor led Scott to the dining room where a roast dinner was already laid. They both sat at opposite ends of the table. “Please, eat,” the doctor said.

  “Um, OK. Thanks.”

  Scott started to eat. The food tasted good. It was the best meal he'd had in a long time.

  “Scott, my reason for bringing you here is –”

  “– You want to know what happened,” Scott interrupted.

  “Well, I think I know what happened. You were driving drunk and you killed my daughter.”

  Scott almost choked on his food.

  “You took her from me, Scott. And now…” The doctor paused. “Well, now those drugs in your food will be kicking in and you’ll pass out at any minute.”

  “What the hell?” Scott leapt from his seat and ran to the door. He made it far enough to reach the door handle and then flopped onto the floor, unconscious.

  ****

  Scott opened his eyes.

  Everything was blurry. He tried to rub his eyes, but his hands where strapped down. He couldn’t move them, he tried but they wouldn’t budge. His feet were the same. As he looked around, his vision began to clear.

  He was in an empty room. He could now see that he was tied to some form of bed. Above him was a hanging light. Around the room there was nothing else apart from brick walls. He could hear footsteps.

  A door opened and Dr Harrison entered. He walked slowly until he was stood at Scott’s head. He turned on the light which blurred Scott’s vision again. All Scott could see was the light and the shadow of the doctor's head.

  “Nice to see you’re finally awake, Scott. You were out for longer than I expected. I suppose we have the alcohol to thank for that. Seems to be a common thing with you, doesn’t it.”

  “Dr Harrison, sir, please…I….”

  “Shut up, you little shit.” The doctor snapped. “You took her away from me. She was the only thing I had in my life. She was daddy’s girl and you took her.”

  “I didn’t mean…”

  “You didn’t mean what? To drink and drive! It’s not done by accident. You made a conscious decision that night to drive when you shouldn’t have. Because of that, my daughter is dead!”

  “I’m sorry,” Scott cried, tears ran down the side of his face. His eyes were now blurring again and he struggled to see with the light shining in them.

  “The thing is, Scott, this has been torture for me. You see, Jane was my life. My whole world revolved around her. Since you took her, every day has been torture. Every single day. Then I got to thinking.”

  “Please,” Scott cried.

  “Listen to what I have to say!” The doctor roared. “I got to thinking. Why am I torturing myself? When really I should be torturing you.”

  “No. please.”

  “Oh come on, you don’t even know what I’m going to do yet.”

  “Please.”

  “You see, Scott, I like to do research. I don’t like doing anything half-arsed so I really put the effort in. I thought; if I’m going to torture you, then I want it to be something really special, you know.”

  “Dr Harrison, listen…”

  “Scott, if you don’t shut up I will go and get my scalpel and then I will cut your tongue off.”

  Scott fell silent. He thought for a moment. If the doctor was talking about going to get his tools, then that meant he didn’t have them here with him. Perhaps he was just trying to scare him. That was the real torture. All he had to do was show that he was sorry – really sorry – and then the doctor would let him go.

  “You see, Scott. As I said. I like to do research. So I did a lot of research on torture. I wanted something really unique. You know, because my Jane, my daddy’s girl, she really was unique. You don’t know just how special she was.”

  The doctor picked something up and held it in front of Scott’s face. Scott couldn't make out exactly what it was through his blurred vision. It looked like something metal. His heart rate increased. This is it, he thought. I’m going to die right now.

  “Have you ever heard of The Pear of Anguish, Scott?”

  Scott shook his head, too scared to speak.

  “It’s also known as The Choke Pear. Apparently in the early 1800’s some robbers used to use these as a gag. You see, it’s pear like shape made it easy for them to place in their victim's mouth. Then, as they turned this key, the pear would begin to open out from all sides, a bit l
ike a flower. The metal sides would widen and it would choke the victim.”

  Scott’s eyes widened.

  “Oh, don’t worry I’m not doing that. What interested me more? Did you know that around the 1600’s when these devices are thought to have first been invented, they would actually be placed in the vagina or anus of a torture victim? You would slide the closed pear into the anus. Then turn the long key. When the sides opened up it would internally mutilate the victim.” The doctor laughed. “Now that does sound like a particularly painful experience doesn’t it?”

  “Please don’t,” Scott whimpered.

  “No. You see. This was used in the 1600’s right through to the 1900’s. This torture, while impressive, has been used for hundreds of years. That is not nearly unique enough. Not special enough for my daughter's killer.”

  Scott began to shake his head from side to side. He tried again to free him arms but there was no use. They wouldn’t move.

  “I wouldn’t struggle too much, Scott. You’ll do yourself damage.”

  Dr Harrison walked to the other side of the room, behind Scott’s head, and placed the pear on a table. From there he retrieved another instrument and brought it back to show Scott. It was a copper bowl.

  “Have you seen this? The pottery bowl. You ever heard of that one, Scott?”

  Scott shook his head.

  “This one was another of my favourites. The origins of this aren’t certain, but one account recorded was during the Dutch Revolt. Apparently, one of the allies of William the Silent would use this to torture prisoners. It’s really quite clever when you think about it. He would take some diseased and starving rats and place them in this pottery bowl. He would then set the bowl open side down on the naked body of the prisoner. When hot charcoal was placed on the bowl, the rats would try and escape from the heat. They couldn’t get out of the bowl so there was only one way they could go. They would gnaw their way through the victim. Eating right though the stomach.”