Daddy Won't Kill You (An Occult Horror)

by Gebbie, Caroline

  Relief almost dropped him to his knees. Val sat in the chair and rocked gently backwards and forwards, her expression peaceful almost serene. Had Lauren done this? He hoped that his wife was still in there and that she may be helping him, maybe helping the children. If she fought enough it may just slow this bitch down and keep them all safe.

  The chair rocked back, and Val changed, her face covered in blood, her lip split and her right eye and cheek were swollen with deep purple bruises. Steve fell to his knees. “No, please no more.”

  The chair rocked forwards, and it was Lauren sat there, her long curly blonde hair unmistakable against Val’s bob. Her face screwed into a rictus of fear, and she turned slowly towards him as the rocker continued its movement. Steve could almost feel her pleading with him to help, begging him to save the children. Their eyes met and then the chair was rocking backwards, and it was Val’s spiteful grin that returned his.

  Steve reached behind him and shook out a net. He stood and slowly, cautiously he walked towards the chair. He could not see the axe which was good; he had more chance if she had lost it. The chair rocked backwards, and a little girl appeared, her summer dress splattered with red. Her right eye, a dark gore encrusted hole and blood, ran down her pale almost blue cheeks, she was dead.

  Steve inched towards the chair, his arms ready at his side. The chair rocked forwards, and Val looked at him. Her ice blue eyes almost froze him, but he could do this. “I know what happened,” he shouted. “You got your revenge and then some, now let it go.”

  The chair rocked backwards, it was still Val but younger, her sweet face covered in bruises, she looked vulnerable and beaten.

  Steve pushed forwards and attempted to grab her arms. It all seemed to take place in slow motion as he inched towards her the chair rocked forwards, and she brought up her right arm with the axe. Her face was feral, her teeth bared through drawn back lips. Steve ducked, but the steel glanced him under the chin. He fell backwards and crashed hard on his coccyx. The fall sent shockwaves up his spine and forced the air from his body. Stunned, he lay still his face pouring blood.

  Val stopped, and genuine concern flashed across her face, but then it was gone. She dropped the axe and skittered across the floor on her knees, like an insane human playing ponies. Poised over his prone body, she touched the blood that poured from his chin and brought a finger to her lips. Closing her eyes and with a groan of pure delight she sucked the blood from it.

  “Kiddies, how about Daddy pie?”

  As she looked away, Steve blinked. She stood up and hefted the axe. She raised it high above her head steel death waiting to fall. The shaft paused, as a battle was fought inside her. The hair and face became Lauren, and the axe seemed to dance in her hands as she wrestled with Val over control. The hair shortened, the eyes turned frosty blue, and Val won. She brought it crashing down towards Steve’s head. He opened his eyes and coiled away from her.

  The axe bit into the deck and overbalancing she dropped to her knees. Steve charged at her. At the impact, she released the shaft, and they both tumbled across the deck. She landed heavy, thumping hard on her back and Steve went over her to land on his knees.

  He ran back towards her, but she went down onto all fours and scrambled for the axe. It was a race, but he was upright and just beat her to it. He kicked it away and grabbed for his net. He was too late she dived at him and landed on his back. The force knocked him to the floor, and she pinned him down.

  “Dad, do you need any help?” Chase shouted from the cabin.

  Val sat atop of Steve, pounding at his head. His right cheek scraped against the deck at each punch. “I’m okay,” he shouted between blows.

  “Dad don’t get scared,” Lucy called.

  He dodged as much as he could and tried to grab hold of her hands, but she was like a dervish, and they came at him so fast and so furious he kept missing. She leaned forwards and bit his ear. Steve shrieked as she pulled away with a chunk of his lobe embedded in her teeth.

  As she flexed back, he turned his hip and tipped her to the deck.

  “I’ll kill you,” she screamed.

  “Dad you okay?” Chase shouted.

  He was on top now, and he hesitated only a second, then he hit her hard to the jaw. The blow stopped her instantly. She slumped back, and he caught her and lowered her head gently to the deck. “Doing great kids,” he shouted as he checked for a pulse. She was fine.

  Shaking off the guilt, he walked back to the door for his supplies and picked up a camouflage net. She landed on his back and knocked him to his knees and then bit into his other ear. He screamed as she pulled back, his ear lobe clasped between her bloody teeth.

  “Dad,” Chase shouted.

  He tried to shake her off, but she was kicking and biting. Blood was flying from his ear, and she pulled away and spat out another piece. She reached down and bit into his neck. “I’m doing great,” he screamed as he managed to get to his feet.

  She kicked and pounded at him with one hand, while clawing at his face with the other, her teeth still lodged into his neck. He ran backwards and slammed her into the cabin walls. She did not stop, and he slammed her again and again. This time she let go and slumped to the floor. He grabbed hold of the net and threw it over her.

  She was trying to stand, to fight her way from the net.

  “Daddy,” Lucy screamed.

  He pulled back his fist and hit her hard, and the net dropped down and lay still. “Everything’s okay, don’t worry,” he said as he turned her over and over inside the net. He grabbed a roll of tape and taped the net, top, middle and bottom.

  He slumped down on the deck beside her and started to giggle, she looked like some Arabian princess rolled up in a magic carpet. He breathed deeply to stop the giggles, he knew he was close to hysteria, and he knew he must hurry.

  Chapter Forty

  Steve put a hand on the net, he could feel the rising and falling of her chest, and she was breathing. He found her face and tore a hole, her teeth snapped at him weakly. He stood and walked across the deck to the chair. It started to rock all by itself. It seemed to be covered in blood and was surrounded by darkness. He reached forwards to grab it. A corpse sat there, with tattered skin hung on putrefied flesh, he could smell the corruption. It stung his eyes and closed his throat. He could see the yellow, white bones through the torn muscle. He pulled his hand back and looked for the axe.

  Steve grabbed the axe and swung it at the chair, and it passed through the corpse, which melted like the morning mist, and bounced off the wood. He felt the blow jar through his battered body. He turned and swung the axe sideways at the chair. It hit, and the rocker glided away from it. When it stopped it rocked backwards, and the girl like Lucy appeared in the chair, her eyes pleaded with Steve for salvation. Horrified he swung and hit the rocker again. It slid towards the edge of the deck.

  Behind him Lauren convulsed, her feet pounded the deck, like a drummer reaching a crescendo. Steve hit the chair again, and it bounced off the deck to land on the grass. Lauren was still. Please let her be okay.

  Steve jumped off the deck and got to the chair before it could start rocking.

  “Daddy,” Lucy said.

  He turned around, the axe above his head. She was stood behind him another vision, so real he couldn’t stand it. He raised the axe to swing.

  “Dad,” Chase screamed as he rushed in front of his sister.

  Steve pulled the axe wide, and missed the children. His chest ached, and his heart beat like a runaway horse. “Go back inside both of you, everything’s all right,” he said.

  Chase took Lucy’s hand and led her away.

  Steve turned back to the chair, and it contained the Lucy lookalike, he felt another pain in his chest as the chair rocked provocatively. He hit it hard with the axe and pushed it sideways. “It’s over. You mean spiteful, bitch, it’s over.” He hit it again. It flew into the air a good six feet landing on its side.

  Steve ran back to the deck and grabbed th
e petrol can.

  “Help me,” Val called from the netting.

  “I am,” he said and strode off the deck back to the rocker. It was upright and rocking its way back to the cabin. He stuck out his foot and stopped it. It rolled backwards, and Lauren was in the chair, she looked wonderful and smiled up at him. He kicked the chair through what would have been her belly, his foot struck the wood.

  He pulled off the top from the petrol can, and Lauren was back in the chair. He cried out as he poured petrol over her, soaked her clothing, her hair, and the rocker, and then she was gone, all he could see was the chair. He emptied the can onto it and stepped back.

  He pulled matches from his pocket, and Lauren was back. She smiled up at him, a smile that chilled him to the bone. He lit a match. Lauren looked terrified, for a second he hesitated, and the match burned lower, closer to his fingers. He could feel the heat from the flame, closer to his skin. “It’s not her,” he whispered and stared at the match, it was burning lower, the fire devouring the wood in a last gasp. Just before it burned out he flicked the match at the chair, it erupted into flame, and it was empty.

  With a sigh of relief, he walked back to the cabin.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Steve sat with his back against a large gnarled old oak tree, staring down the road that led to the cabin. His heart still raced, and his breathing was ragged, but they were safe. Lucy and Chase were wrapped in blankets their tired faces smiled up at him, and a surge of love warmed him through. Lauren was next to him, still wrapped in the netting, she looked exhausted.

  Steve stared at the stars, tiny pinpricks of life in a coal black sky. He knew how lucky they had been and somehow he knew this would strengthen them, and they would get through it. He turned and looked back at the cabin, and realized they would all be glad to see the back of the place. An orange glow still surrounded the chair, burn you bitch you deserve it.

  “Mummy are you okay?” Lucy asked.

  “Yes Pumpkin, I’m fine.”

  Lucy relaxed and shoved Bunkie at Chase knocking his book from his fingers. Steve tensed, would the boy react? Chase dropped his book and grabbed the bunny, pushing it back at Lucy and using it to tickle her. The woods reverberated with delighted giggles.

  Steve stared down at Lauren. Her face covered with bruised and flecked with dirt He smoothed her cheek and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  She smiled the biggest smile he had seen in months. “Don’t be, you saved us. From what, I may never understand, but you saved us. Just take me home.”

  Steve hugged her close through the netting, marveling that they had survived.

  “I don’t want pie for at least a month,” Lucy said.

  Lauren laughed. “No Sweetie, Mummies never cooking again.”

  The kids had sidled over to the tree and curled up close with their parents. Steve reached over and pulled their blankets up; the night was getting cold.

  “We miss you Mum, in fact, you’re nearly as grumpy as Dad used to be. Can you be at home more?” Lucy asked.

  Lauren stared at them and then up at Steve. “You bet Pumpkin, I’ve missed you too.”

  They could hear the sound of a vehicle approaching on the long road up to the cabin. Headlights blinded them as a police car pulled up on the narrow track.

  ***

  Steve hugged Lauren and the kids taking comfort from their warmth as they drove away from the cabin. He knew it was over and that now they could start and rebuild their lives. He glanced back, the chair was burning, it created a merry glow in the sky, soon it would be gone and Val would hurt no one else.

  He smiled and looked forwards as the two policemen turned them back to the town, they would have some explaining to do, but it was over. He felt a sharp pain and reached for his chest, when was the last time he had taken his aspirin?

  Lauren’s look of love became one of concern. The police had removed the netting, and she reached down and checked his pulse. It was weak and erratic. “Steve, Steve,” she asked.

  “Is everything all right?” The policeman called.

  "Hurry please he has a bad heart."

  The car surged down the hillside as the chair burned in the rear-view window. It started to rock, backwards and forwards, and the fire receded as if starved of oxygen. The flames flickered and faded and with one final splutter they died

  The chair rocked gently, spotlighted in the moonlight as the car whisked the family to safety.

  The End.

  Read on for a preview of another novel of terror Flee http://amzn.to/1dPeL1U

  Prologue

  The cold blade caught momentarily as it slid down her cheek. Its icy touch puckered her flesh and dragged it, as the blade travelled lower. She screamed again, a sand-paper rasp of a sound, her throat sore from countless others. Warm, salty tears ran down her face. They slipped over the blade and dropped to the barren floor, soaked up by the cold, dispassionate concrete.

  Bitter cold and fear forced another shiver from her naked body. She shook violently, like an addict convulsing. As she did, the ties that held her hands and wrists sliced into damaged skin. She bit down on her bottom lip, trying to hold still, as sobs of desperation escaped her.

  He turned the blade, pressing the razor sharp cutting edge against her lips, opening them, like a lover would tease his playmate. For a second she tasted steel as the knife slipped between her lips. She tried harder to control her shaking, but couldn’t. The blade nicked her top lip. The paper thin cut was tiny but painful. Another sob escaped her, like a frightened child jerked out of a nightmare. A driblet of blood mixed with saliva, and ran over her bottom lip to land on a naked breast. He lowered his eyes with a wondrous, childish smile as he watched the blood fall. It laid there, a crimson stain on her ivory skin. This was his favorite part, the sweet smell of terror created a high like no other. He breathed it in savoring the rush, before removing the knife and stepping back. The way she cringed as his eyes roved over her naked body sent shivers down his spine. It was delicious. Shame was no longer a consideration; she knew he would kill her. But she was strong and there was still a glimmer of hope in her dull, almost lifeless eyes as they pleaded for her life. She had been tied to the post, her wrists bound behind her back for only twelve hours. But he knew she would think it days. The ropes had sliced into her skin, and blood seeped from the wounds. He stood still, just watching her, soaking in the pain that seemed to float from her in waves. As he watched her struggles grew weaker, less animated, her hope was fading fast. He could not suppress the chuckle that this knowledge brought.

  She watched his lips crease as the chuckle seemed to cease him and she bit down to hide her despair. She knew he loved it when she screamed. In fact he seemed to grow with every pain he caused her. For this reason she had fought hard to keep quiet. Why? To annoy him, to stay alive longer or just because it gave her some power, some peace? She was no longer sure.

  Cold and tired, she feared the knife most. This was the third time he had played with her, running the blade over her body as if she were a turkey he was deciding the best way to carve.

  “Please, Mister, let me go. I won’t tell no one.” Sobs escaped her, racking her scrawny body as she fought to control them.

  His eyes roved casually over her broken form, is contempt was written all over his face. She was a young girl, barely sixteen, her skinny body firm but childlike. Pinprick sores on her arms demonstrated her past mistakes. It was the drugs that had made her an easy target. He knew no one would miss her. No one would even notice she was gone.

  He watched her for a second longer, and his right eyebrow rose in question. What was he deciding? Then a smile crossed his handsome face, and he turned away, to leave.

  She sighed, the released breath sounded like survival to her ears, even if only for a short time. She closed her eyes, the movement calm and languorous. The wood was solid against her head, almost comforting. Her breathe came easier now as she hoped to gather her strength, ready for the next assault, that deep insi
de, she feared would be the last.

  A movement behind her caused a sharp gasp of shock to be expelled from her exhausted lungs. She could feel the warmth of his slimy, almost reptilian body behind her. His breath was hot on her cheek, his presence close. Her eyes flew open and she gagged at the smell of that breath. It reminded her of something long dead and best left buried, like the stench of an old tire she and her brother had pulled from the canal. They had stunk of rotten vegetation and mud, and had been forced to wash outside, cold and squealing, under the hose.

  He stepped in front of her and pulled something from his belt. In the dim light, she could just make out a metal cup or horn. He held it in his left hand, his right holding the wicked curved knife. He flashed the blade before her eyes, showing her the carvings and the sharpness of the cutting edge. It caught what little light there was and glinted madly at her. It seemed to be alive, challenging her with its power. Behind her his face wore that manic grin of wonder and delight that froze her with fear. Her breath caught in her throat as the knife approached. It touched her left nipple. Cold, icy, and smooth, it slid across that frozen bud, already stiff with cold. But the feel of the blade teased it to stand even prouder. He smiled at his accomplishment and licked his plump, abhorrent lips.

  He turned the knife and held it before her face, teasing her with the razor sharp edge. He slowly lowered it in front of her face then lower, past her neck. He let the tip touch the skin between her breasts. There was pain, as it easily sliced her delicate flesh. He drew a line from between her breasts to her waist. The point barely breaking her skin, yet blood erupted in its path. Time had stopped for her, seconds became hours, yet she was paralyzed and hung limply against the pole. The wound was shallow, irritating more than life threatening. But somehow she knew that now she would die. Her teeth chattered, and her body started to shake in a way reminiscent of her drug induced past.