A Family of Violence

by Jon Athan

  ***

  With his face planted on the steering wheel, Ed muttered, “Shit... Shit... We fucked up.” He leaned back in his seat and sniffled as blood oozed from his nostrils. Ed said, “We're cornered... We really fucked up this time. Damn it.”

  Kat groaned as she lifted her head from the dashboard. She had a grisly laceration on the left side of her forehead. Stanley, on the other hand, emerged unscathed. His body ached and he was mentally scarred, but he was not severely injured. The seat belt saved him.

  With a quivering lip, Stanley asked, “Wha–What are we going to do now? What's... What's going to happen to us?”

  Ed stared at the van ahead. A mother, a father, and two little girls scampered out of the vehicle. He glanced at the rear-view mirror, then at the side-view mirrors. Traffic was brought to a halt by the collision and the surrounding police officers. Drivers were being removed from their vehicles and cops positioned themselves in several vantage points.

  Ed licked his lips, then he said, “Well, son, this is the end for me. They don't take kindly to cop killers. I'm not too sure about you, but I hope you find a way out of all of this. You're a bright kid, so I think you'll be okay. Just try not to worry about it, okay? Don't worry...”

  Teary-eyed, Ed leaned out of the window. He gritted his teeth and grunted as he fired five rounds at a tree across the street. He knew an officer was hiding behind the tree, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. The savage serial killer wouldn't allow it. He created his life's path, so he chose the time of his death. Before he could empty the clip, a bullet tore through his left shoulder.

  Ed shouted, “Damn it! Damn it!” As Kat and Stanley leaned towards him to offer aid and support, the man scowled and shook his head. With thick veins bulging on his neck and brow, Ed said, “It's too late. Get down... Get down and take cover.”

  As she sniffled, Kat asked, “What? What are you saying?”

  Ed loudly sighed, then he said, “They're going to shoot us up like a bunch of animals. Take cover...”

  Kat trembled in her seat, astonished. The fear of death crept up on her like never before. Ed grunted and groaned as he climbed into the back seat. Through the excruciating pain, he smiled and wrapped his arms around Stanley. He pushed Stanley down towards the seat, covering the teenager's body with his own.

  Before Stanley could utter a single word, an orchestra of thunderous gunshots erupted. The deafening gunfire was accompanied by the sounds of shattering glass and splintering metal. Dozens of bullets penetrated the sedan, tearing through Ed and Kat like paper. The surrounding officers were shooting to kill.

  As he protected Stanley from the hail of bullets, Ed weakly said, “I... I love you, son. I love you.”

  Fifteen seconds of gunfire felt like fifteen minutes. As the crepitations dwindled, Stanley opened his eyes and gasped. With his back on the seat, the teenager gazed into Ed's hollow eyes. His mentor's body rested on top of him, stiff and lifeless. The vicious head of the family was slain by a barrage of bullets – killed while protecting his child.

  Stanley inhaled deeply as he used all of his strength to slide out from underneath Ed. He examined Ed from head-to-toe. He was rattled as he gazed into his eyes – eyes devoid of life. His father figure, the man he learned to love, had bloodied craters scattered across his torso and arms. In a final attempt to save his son, Ed became a human shield.

  Kat wheezed and squirmed in the passenger seat, writhing in anguish. She grimaced and wept as she held her stomach. Without moving her hand, she could see her dress was stained with blood. She glanced towards her left shoulder and shuddered. She didn't realize she was also shot in the shoulder – it was numb.

  Kat said, “Ed... Ed, what do we do?”

  Stanley continued to stare into Ed's eyes, hoping he would awaken and respond. The dead, however, could not speak. Reanimation was impossible. Hope was nonexistent.

  As she caught a glimpse of Ed's condition through the rear-view mirror, Kat said, “No... No, no, no. Not you, Ed, not you...”

  Kat mewled like a newborn baby, whimpering and shivering. Tears streamed down her cheeks and plopped onto her bag. The pain, emotional and physical, was too much to endure. As her bottom lip quivered, she opened her bag and stared down into it. Never in her life did she imagine a box of condoms would bring such a bittersweet feeling to her body.

  With a nervous smile, Kat glanced back at Stanley and said, “I want you to wait here, sweetie. You sit here and wait until it's over.” She grimaced as she grabbed the handgun from the floorboard. As she opened the door, Kat said, “You're a special one, hun. I'll always love you.”

  As the door closed behind the woman he adored, Stanley whispered, “Wait...”

  Kat staggered towards the center of the street with the handgun hidden under her dress. She teetered towards a roadblock, laughing deliriously. The surrounding officers barked their demands, trying to defuse the situation before it could erupt. The woman, however, was set to self-destruct.

  Kat muttered, “I won't... I won't let you take him... You can't touch him, you can't have him... He's... He's not like you.” She stopped fifteen meters away from the roadblock. She inhaled deeply, then she shouted, “I won't let you touch him! I love him!”

  Kat scowled as she lifted the firearm and aimed at the roadblock. Before she could pull the trigger, police officers riddled her with a volley of blistering bullets. Her body convulsed from the gunfire spewing out of the armory of handguns and rifles. As the gunfire stopped, the vicious woman staggered to her knees, then she fell to her side.

  Through the broken rear window in the sedan, Stanley watched the showdown. He watched as Kat was gunned down like a sick animal with a contagious disease, hit with dozens of bullets from every corner. He knew she had mental issues, but he didn't think she was sick. He wondered if her public execution was justified. He pondered what he could do to avenge her.

  Reading his thoughts out loud, Stanley said, “Nothing... I can't do anything to avenge you, Kat. I'm sorry.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Consequences

  Stanley sat in the back seat of a police cruiser. His face and hands were wiped clean, but his clothing was already stained with Ed's blood. A bit of Richie's blood was smeared around the stabbing holes, too, but he didn't care to think about him. His deceased best friend was a remnant of the past, a reminder of another life.

  Instead, Stanley sat and pondered his current situation, contemplating the potential consequences of his actions. A teenage killer could not be punished to the fullest extent of the law. Lethal injection was the least of his concerns. He thought about spending a lifetime in jail, forced back into his restraints. He thought about his fellow prisoners, fearing he would be subjected to endless rape.

  Stanley whispered, “I didn't do it... No, I didn't do it. It wasn't me, it was them. It was all their idea.” He spoke as if he were trying to convince himself of a fallacy. He repeated, “I didn't do it, I didn't do it...”

  Stanley glanced to his left as the door swung open. A dark-haired man stood before him. The man was not like the other police officers – not in appearance or demeanor. He donned a black leather jacket over a white button-up shirt. His black pleated trousers matched his polished dress shoes. His short black hair complemented his stubble. He was a simple man.

  The man said, “Hello, son. I'm Detective Jeremy Anderson. You can call me 'Jeremy.' Don't worry about the formalities. No need for 'sir' or 'mister.' You're not in school or anything like that. Okay? So, what's your name, kiddo?”

  Stanley swallowed the lump in his throat, then he said, “My name is Stanley. Stanley King.”

  “It's nice to meet you, Stanley. Listen, I have some questions for you and I hope you cooperate. I want you to know, I'm only trying to help. If you feel uncomfortable, let me know and I'll see what I can do for you. You don't have to answer anything you don't want to. But, I'm really going to need your help, alright? You help me and I'll help you. That's how it works.�
��

  “Okay.”

  “Great. Did you know the couple in the vehicle?”

  Stanley glanced at the bullet-riddled sedan as he pondered his response. He wanted to admit to the help Ed offered him. He wanted to spill his heart and confess his deep love for Kat. Yet, he knew the detective wouldn't understand. He had to play a game if he wanted to survive. Wasting time thinking about his answer didn't help, so he decided to tackle the problem head-on.

  Stanley said, “No. They took me from my home and they... they kept me hostage.”

  Anderson bit his bottom lip and nodded. He said, “Okay. Was this before or after the fire at your house?”

  “After. They burned the house down and then they took me with them. They said they always wanted a kid like me. So, they took me.”

  “Do you know what happened to your parents and your brother, Stanley? Are you fully aware of the incident?”

  “They killed them, right? They killed my mom, my dad, and my brother, then they... they burned the house down.”

  “Yeah, I suppose that theory could work... I wouldn't be here asking you questions if your guardians weren't deceased. I'm truly sorry about that, too,” Anderson said as he despondently stared at the wicked child. “Now, where did they take you after the fire? We've been looking for you for quite some time, son. I'd really like to know where these people were hiding you.”

  Stanley opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped himself before he could utter a sound. He needed a moment to think about his time at the abandoned house – a moment to consider the evidence he might have left behind. He didn't spend much time at the house, but he was positive the police would be able to find a speck of his DNA – somewhere, somehow.

  Stanley said, “I don't know. They took me to an abandoned house and they kept me locked in a room. They blindfolded me when I went there and when I left.”

  Anderson furrowed his brow and asked, “Are you sure about that, son?”

  Stanley rapidly nodded and said, “I'm positive.”

  “Okay. So, what were you doing out here today? What did they tell you? I've read some reports, I've seen some footage, and you didn't seem too scared out here today. You understand what I'm saying? You seemed normal. Now, if they kidnapped you and hurt your family, why didn't you ask anyone for help?”

  “Because... Because they were going to hurt me if I screamed. So, I... I was going to wait until I saw a cop, then I was going to ask for help. There weren't a lot police officers around, though, so I just stayed quiet. I didn't want anything bad to happen.”

  Anderson smiled and nodded, like if he were accepting the teenager's explanation – or accepting his challenge. He said, “Okay, okay. I have a few more questions for you, so please bear with me. I'll have you out of here soon, though. Don't worry about that. I just need to know about... Let's see... Tell me about Richie Adams. You remember your classmate, right? What happened to him?”

  Stanley narrowed his eyes and responded, “You should tell me. I don't know. Did something happen to him? Did something happen to Richie?”

  “I think we'll find out soon, Stanley. We'll also be talking about your trip to Adventure Planet. But, I think we'll continue our chat later. Thank you for your cooperation, young man. I'll have an officer bring you some water, then we'll take you downtown. Sit tight.”

  Stanley sat in silence as the detective closed the door, brooding. He couldn't help but wonder if his ruse worked. He felt a sense of remorse for pinning his crimes on Ed and Kat, but he still felt nothing for his best friend and his family. The slaughtered were merely used as puppets to convince the public of a heinous crime. I'm the victim, Stanley thought, it can work, they have to believe me.

  Anderson walked away from the back seat. He moseyed towards an everyday beat cop. The blue-eyed officer with blonde hair leaned on the front of the car, nonchalantly sipping coffee from a paperboard cup. An embroidered name tag on his chest read: V. Cook.

  Anderson stood near the officer and said, “Such a tragic day, isn't it?” Cook sighed and nodded as he stared at the massacre. Anderson said, “We'll get to the bottom of this. These people... These savages won't get away with this.”

  Cook sniffled, then he asked, “What did you think about the boy? You think he was abducted or tricked, or something like that?”

  “The boy? Well, to be blunt with you, officer, I think the boy is a damn liar. From the second he started speaking, I could tell he was one of them. Now, it might be difficult to prove, but I know I can break him. I know he had something to do with the fire, he was involved with his friend's disappearance, and he was involved in that attack at the park. He's one of them. You can see it in his eyes. He's a feral animal acting like a domesticated pet.”

  Cook furrowed his brow and asked, “Are you sure about that?”

  “I'm positive. Listen, when you head down to the station, I want you to take special care of his clothing. You understand me? Hand it over to forensics as soon as possible. I think he might be wearing the clothing of a victim – maybe even a few. Don't let him know why, though, just make sure he doesn't try to ruin any of it. It's going to be very important for the case.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  Anderson patted Cook's shoulder and nodded – a nonverbal 'thank you' and 'goodbye.' As the detective strolled towards his unmarked car, Cook glanced over his shoulder and peered into the back seat of his cruiser. Through the cage partition, he could see Stanley sitting in the back seat. The officer shuddered upon spotting the bestial look in his eyes. A spark of deviance lingered in the windows to his soul. The boy was not human. He was a vessel for a beast of unfathomable horrors...

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  Dear Reader,

  First and foremost, thank you for reading! I'm glad you finished the book. If you didn't finish it and you'd like to hurl some hurtful messages at me, you can find my Twitter and Facebook links at the end of this segment. Anyway, your readership is truly invaluable to me. A Family of Violence was fueled by my love for dark fiction and storytelling – much like the rest of my horror books. I pride myself in delivering uncompromising stories, delving into taboo territory with little shame. At the same time, I never intend on offending or appalling anyone. If any of the content in this book truly offended you, please accept my sincerest apologies.

  A Family of Violence wasn't inspired by a particular novel or film. It wasn't inspired by a real incident, either. The idea came from a lifetime of horror and my education in criminology. There are many pieces of media out there about serial killers. Many of these terrifying works, however, tend to stay away from child murderers – by that I mean, children that kill. It's a horrifying subject and it really captured my attention. Of course, it also fits with the theme of nature vs. nurture. Are people born evil or is it taught to them? I didn't delve too deeply into the theme with Stanley, though.

  Edward and Katina fit a more traditional mold – something that's easier to grasp. This enigmatic couple kill people without a shred of remorse. They also fit the nature vs. nurture theme. On one hand, Edward has been killing for as long as he could remember. He is naturally evil. Katina, on the other hand, reached a breaking point during her appalling experience with her brother. So, her breed of evil was wired at a later time. And, her evil was fostered by her relationship with Edward.

  In terms of criminology, I also tossed in a bit of the Macdonald triad in A Family of Violence. For those who don't know, the triad links animal cruelty, fire setting and bed-wetting to violent behavior. Early in the book, Stanley suggests the killing of a squirrel. He also persistently wets
the bed and he plays with fire. It's an interesting concept – a fascinating concept, really. I'm rambling, though. I'm sure you can spot the other tidbits spread throughout the book.

  Anyway, if you enjoyed this book, please leave an honest review on Amazon.com. Your review is incredibly significant. In fact, my career depends on your review. Your review will help me improve on future books and it will help other readers find this book. The more readers I garner, the more I can write. So, if you liked this book, a review will help me release more. It will also allow me to gauge interest for certain genres and themes. Do you like dark serial killer novels? Did this book go 'too far?' Would you like to go further into the dark mind? Your review has the power to influence my writing – please use it wisely.

  Also, feel free to share this book with your friends and family. Tweet it to your followers on Twitter, share it with your friends and family on Facebook, lend it to them, or even read it to them over the phone or video chat. Birthday, holiday, or special event coming up? Buy them a copy as a gift. Word-of-mouth is a superb method in supporting independent authors – and it's mostly free. My life consists of cheap noodles and tap water. I occasionally watch a movie or two on VHS. I need your support to sustain this 'thrifty' lifestyle.

  Finally, if you enjoy scary stories, feel free to visit my Amazon's Author page. I've published over a dozen horror anthologies and several novels. Like slasher horror books? Check out my gory slasher, Butcher Road. It's inspired by classic horror films and other notorious serial killers. Looking for a violent thriller? I recommend reading Captives and Captors. This mystery-thriller adds a dash of extreme horror to create an unnerving experience. Furthermore, many of my books are available on Kindle Unlimited! I publish books frequently, so please keep your eyes peeled for the next release. I'm currently working on my first science-fiction/fantasy book and another serial killer novel. Once again, thank you for reading. Your readership keeps me going through the darkest times!