The Unhinged

by David Bernstein

  Time continued to crawl.

  His phone didn’t ring and he wondered what the cop was doing. He had never wanted to hear from the man again, but now he couldn’t wait. The insane fucker had to know Aaron knew it was his mother chained to the bed. Wouldn’t he want to call and gloat? Screw with him? Laugh at him?

  Aaron didn’t do much of anything for the day, and finally ate a small meal and drank a few beers when the sun went down. He didn’t turn on a single light, save the fridge door’s when he opened it to get another beer. He sat in the dark, listening to the quiet of the house, letting the hum in his ears grow louder and drive him a little crazy. But he kept it all inside. He’d need that crazy if and when the cop showed.

  By ten p.m. he was drunk and he skulked off to bed, taking the shotgun with him.

  Nightmares plagued his dreams.

  His mother glided into his room, her feet an inch from the floor. Her flesh was chalk-white, skin loose and hanging as if it had started to melt. Her eyes were swollen closed, but she pointed directly at him. “You,” she said, her voice echoing off the walls. Then her eyes slowly opened, the puffy lids exploding like squashed grapes, revealing onyx-colored orbs. “You did this to me.”

  There was a row of police officers with accusatory looks on their faces behind her, and he knew this was her gang. They each held a wooden nightstick in the shape of a penis and were slapping them against the palms of their free hands.

  Aaron went to move away from her, but found his ankles and wrists shackled to the bed. “I didn’t know it was you,” he said.

  In a chorus, they repeated, “Didn’t know it was you.”

  “You left me there,” she said. “Let him violate me, while you cowered like a little boy.”

  “Like a little boy,” the chorus of cops said.

  A large axe appeared in his mother’s hand, the blade glowing orange, as if it had just come from a fire. Aaron’s flesh began to heat up.

  “Punish, punish, punish,” the policemen chanted as they continued to beat their penis sticks against their palms.

  His mother grinned, revealing sharklike rows of teeth. “Now you’ll feel what it’s like to be violated.”

  He eyed the axe. “No, Mom. I’m sorry.”

  She admired the weapon and shook her head slowly. “This isn’t for you, not yet, anyway.” She pointed over her shoulder. “First, they’re going to have a go with you.” The policemen grinned, holding up their penis sticks, the heads on the sticks pulsing, as if excited. His mother moved aside. The policemen came forward. One shoved his penis stick into Aaron’s mouth, the texture not rigid but soft, real. The officer jammed it down his throat and Aaron found it hard to breathe, his eyes watering. Then his shorts were ripped off, a penis stick placed between his ass cheeks. His mother bent close to his face and smiled. “Enjoy this, my son,” she said and cackled wildly.

  Aaron felt the stick enter him and just before the pain, he woke, sitting up in bed, sweat stinging his eyes, heart hammering away. He slid off the bed and turned on the light. Relief flooded through him. The clock read 5:32 a.m.

  The urge to pee came on strong. He relieved himself in the bathroom, then washed his hands and drank from the faucet.

  He went back to his room, the nightmare still fresh in his mind. It hadn’t faded like most did. Flipping off the light, he lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes. He kept seeing his ghoulish mother and the policemen, unable to fall back asleep.

  Turning on the radio, the volume barely above a whisper, he thought about Hanna, the one great thing in his life, the one person he could go to for peace. He remembered thinking how glad he was it wasn’t her in the abandoned psych ward. If it had been, if he’d even thought it was possible, he would have saved her. So why, when he realized the woman was older, hadn’t he thought it was possible she could be his mom? Was it so ridiculous a notion that his mind simply wouldn’t go there? Looking back, it seemed so simple to see, that all he had to do was check under the mask. The cop hadn’t said anything about not looking.

  Letting the frustrating thoughts go, he concentrated on Hanna, pictured her warm smile, pretty face and incredible body. He sniffed her hair, the strawberry aroma intoxicating. He grew hard, felt himself, then imagined her naked, lowering herself on top of him. He stroked himself until orgasm—needing the release—and then reality settled back in—the rape, the cop, Hanna’s uncle’s death. Masturbation, as well as sex, was like magic and could temporarily wash away any troubles, but the fantasy was always short-lived. The real world always rushed back in.

  After cleaning himself up in the bathroom, he went back to his room and lay on his bed. His room was lightening as the sun began to show its glorious face.

  Worry set in again. It was hard to breathe. Unable to lie still, he got to his feet, feeling as if he was going to have a panic attack. He couldn’t come apart now. He needed to take care of business with the cop, be there for his mother, should she have him. He’d been a part of some horrible things, but they weren’t his fault, not really. He was involved, yes, but not the one responsible.

  But still, he couldn’t seem to shake the guilt he felt. He couldn’t stay drunk. He’d have to deal with it. Live with it. Move on from it, never forgetting, but forgiving himself. His suffering was well deserved, but he still needed to function. Facing his mother, regardless of what choice she made—going to the police or dealing with it herself—was going to be difficult. Telling Hanna about his past was going to be much easier now when compared to dealing with his mom.

  He was going to tell his mother everything, from getting pulled over, to the liquor store robbery, to why he was in the abandoned hospital room with her. Answer all her questions. And if she went to the police, he’d tell them everything. Maybe, together, their stories would make a difference.

  When seven a.m. rolled around, Aaron called his boss and told him what had happened and that he wouldn’t be in. The man completely understood and told Aaron that if he needed anything, anything at all, to please let him know.

  Over the next few days, Aaron spent his time with his mom, sitting by her side, talking to her, hoping she could hear him and wasn’t petrified. His aunt and uncle visited too. His mother’s friends stopped by, but weren’t told about the rape, only that she was beaten and mugged. The whole time, especially when people were present, he worried she would wake up and start screaming when she saw him, her son the rape-allower.

  Aaron also worried about the video of him robbing the liquor store. He was afraid it would eventually surface and that was the reason he hadn’t heard from the cop. But so far, it hadn’t.

  With all his worries, Aaron wasn’t able to get a moment of relaxation or peace of mind. What little time he did spend with Hanna—getting together for lunch—he couldn’t fully enjoy. Sleep was nonexistent, and not just because of his nightmares, but because he feared the authorities would come crashing through the door and rip him from his bed. The cop would say he miraculously found the video left in front of the police station. Or maybe the cop had mailed it to a news station, letting not only the authorities see it, but the entire world.

  By not calling Aaron, the cop had him reeling. It pissed Aaron off knowing that the pig had influence over him even when he was not directly dealing with him. There was no statute on murder. The cop could, at any time, even fifty years from now, release the video and Aaron would be arrested. For all Aaron knew, the cop expected him to run. Or maybe the nutcase was waiting for his mom to wake up. Then he’d release the video and have him arrested in front of her.

  At home, Aaron downed a few shots of vodka. He didn’t want to become an alcoholic, but for now, he wasn’t going to worry about it. A little tipsy, he waited until nightfall, then grabbed the shotgun and hiked to the pond.

  He sat at the water’s edge, just to the left of the picnic area. The stars twinkled above like diamonds spilled across a piece of b
lack velvet. They were there for the taking, if only he were a bit taller. Then he could run away with Hanna and live happily ever after.

  He shook his head and stared at the shotgun resting across his lap. With a pull of the trigger, he could end it all. No more problems or worries. Such things would be left for the living. Knowing this, knowing how much pain he’d bring his mother, his aunt and uncle and Hanna he couldn’t do it. Unless his mother hated him and he was going back to prison as a murderer, with no chance of parole. Then, blowing his head off might become an option.

  But he wanted to live. Life was precious. Wonderful. He’d been given a second chance, but the cop was ruining it, maybe had ruined it.

  After straightening himself out in prison, he’d promised himself and his mother that he’d never go down such a road again. Yet here he was, down a worse road, seriously hurting people he loved along the way. If he’d realized getting pulled over would lead to all this, he never would’ve sped. Hell, he would’ve just killed the cop.

  But beating himself up over the past was pointless. He needed to look ahead, figure out what he was going to do. Thinking about murdering the cop was a far stretch from actually doing it. And it would bring a ton of heat with it. He never understood why more attention was drawn to a cop being killed than a regular citizen. Cops put their lives on the line all the time. It should be more shocking when a normal person was murdered, an innocent.

  The world was the way it was.

  Aaron stood, picked up the shotgun and headed home. He’d wait to hear from his mom before making any decisions.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next day, Aaron decided to have Hanna over and tell her the truth about himself. He’d originally planned on telling her days ago, but with everything that had happened, he just couldn’t find the right time. And truth be told, he didn’t want to lose her—not ever, but especially not now. He was all alone. He needed her.

  She arrived at his house shortly after five p.m. Aaron had invited her over for dinner. He intended on cooking spaghetti in vodka sauce and making fresh garlic bread, but he held off on the meal. He wanted to have the talk first.

  Ten minutes before five, he stood in front of the living room window, anxiously waiting for Hanna’s car to pull into the driveway. He desperately wanted a few shots of vodka—or any of type of alcohol—to calm his nerves, but resisted the urge. The news needed to come from a sober him.

  The ten minutes felt like an hour. Hanna still hadn’t arrived. He began to worry, thinking the cop had known she was going to visit him and had pulled her over. His attention turned to the bottle of vodka in the cabinet above the sink. His nerves were already shot and now, with Hanna being late, they were frying.

  Finally, after another five minutes, Hanna’s car pulled into the driveway. Aaron felt a drain on his body, the relief wonderful, but tiring. His mouth was so dry he found it difficult to swallow.

  On his way to the door, he grabbed a piece of gum from the snack drawer and chewed it rapidly before spitting it into the garbage. He didn’t want the awkwardness of gum in his mouth should they embrace in a kiss.

  Opening the front door, he stood behind the screen door and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. When Hanna came into view, his stomach fell. He was damn nervous.

  “Hey you,” she said, smiling.

  Aaron opened the screen door. “Welcome.”

  She met him on the threshold, planted a kiss on his cheek, then proceeded inside as if she owned the place.

  Aaron closed both doors, securing the deadbolt on the main door.

  They sat in the living room, television off.

  “How’s your mom doing?” Hanna asked.

  “Not awake yet,” he said, and wiped his palms on his thighs again. He looked at the television, then back at Hanna.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. “You seem nervous.”

  Aaron exhaled. “Look, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Okay.”

  He closed his eyes.

  “Aaron, just say it. I won’t be hurt.”

  “Hurt?” he asked, opening his eyes.

  “You don’t want to see me anymore?”

  His eyebrows rose. “What? No. I definitely want to keep seeing you…I’m just not sure you’re going to want to keep seeing me.”

  “Oh? And why’s that?”

  “I’m, well…I’m on parole.” There, he said it.

  Hanna’s face went slack. “Say that again.”

  “I’m on parole. I was in jail for a few years.” No, that was a lie. He wanted to be completely honest. “Well, not a few. Six. Six years for my part in an armed robbery of a gas station. I was the driver.”

  “Armed robbery?” she asked, her voice rising.

  “Yeah. I was eighteen. A stupid kid on too many drugs.” He made sure to look her in the eyes.

  Hanna stood. “Armed robbery… You should’ve told me right away, Aaron.”

  He got up. “I know. I’m so sorry. We hit it off so well, and—”

  “And nothing,” she said, arms crossed over her chest. “You should have told me.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he pleaded. He hit himself upside his head. “I should’ve told you the night we went out. You looked so beautiful. We were having a great time. I didn’t want to ruin it. It was the first time I’d felt normal, really normal, in some time.”

  “I would’ve understood if you told me upfront, Aaron,” she said. “But now you’re just a liar. I can’t trust you.”

  His shoulders slumped. He’d blown it. “I understand. I don’t blame you one bit for hating me.”

  “Damn right,” she said. Her eyes were slits, mouth a snarl of disgust. “I just don’t know about any of this.” She waved her arms.

  He couldn’t just wilt. Yes, she was pissed, but he needed to fight for her. “I really like you Hanna. I…I think, no, I am falling in love with you. I know it’s sudden, but I am. And that’s why I’m so damn sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. Even if you never want to see me again, I want you to know how sorry I really am.”

  “You should be,” she said.

  “I am.”

  Then something amazing happened. She smiled, all the anger vanishing. “Got you,” she said, laughing.

  “What?”

  “What kind of girl do you take me for?” she asked.

  “I’m really confused.”

  “Don’t you think I checked you out? I Googled you, silly, read all about you.”

  “You did?”

  “Um, yeah. This is the digital age. Plus, Mike confirmed, you know, after I came to him.”

  Aaron couldn’t help but smile. “That son of bitch.”

  She poked him in the stomach, hard.

  “Ouch.”

  “You deserve a smack,” she said. “I kept waiting to see if and when you were going to tell me the truth about yourself. I guess I sort of made it hard for you…because I really like you too.” She placed her arms on his shoulders and came in for a kiss. Their lips locked, mouths open, tongues circling each other like serpents.

  They moved to the couch, groped each other, then moved to his bedroom and made love. Aaron came almost immediately, his masturbating fantasies nowhere close to preparing him for the real thing; her touch and feel was ecstasy. But he regained his stamina quickly, his cock rock-hard in minutes, and together, they became one, moving and grinding against each other, slowly, him pushing inside her, filling her completely. Her moans brought him to the brink of climax. He had to calm down. His thrusts became slow and deep, her orgasm building like overflowing storm waters behind a dam. Finally, she screamed, her body convulsing in what seemed like pure bliss. She begged him to fill her, and he did, exploding inside her. He shuddered as he spewed his warm seed, their fluids mixing like the finest cocktail on the planet.

  He
remained inside her, enjoying her body heat. They kissed gently and he whispered he loved her, and then he rolled over and lay next to her. She snuggled close to him and they fell asleep.

  Upon waking, he felt cold. She wasn’t there. In a panic, he shot to his feet, then heard the shower and relaxed. He found the door unlocked and went in. She was there, her sexy figure a fuzzy silhouette through the steamy glass shower doors.

  “Aaron?” she asked.

  “You expecting someone else?”

  “Hey, I’m in a strange house. Just checking.”

  He let her be and went back to his room. When she came in, she was dressed.

  After showering, he made dinner. They ate in front of the television and watched a movie, and then she went home.

  The house seemed so very still with her gone. Her presence always brought life to the room she was in. He wished she could have stayed over. He’d been afraid to ask. There would be plenty of time for that later.

  He lay on his bed, not wanting to ever change the sheets. Hanna’s aroma was ripe within the fabric. But basking in the glory of the evening didn’t last long. He thought of his mom and how she was lying in a hospital bed, recovering from rape. He was amazed at how easily all the horribleness in his life had been forgotten. Well, not forgotten, but placed on a back burner to slowly simmer. But during sex, like during masturbation, nothing else mattered but the act. And thankfully with Hanna, the act had lasted a while.

  His heart sank a little further, then plummeted. He’d told Hanna the truth about his past, but not all of the truth. He wanted so much to tell her about her uncle, let her know what really happened. He’d managed to get by that part of his past, but only because she accepted him. After hearing how she liked him, he’d been overwhelmed by a joy that temporarily wiped away thoughts of her uncle.

  Now that he had time to think, he wondered if the need to tell her would grow, like a weed that could be plucked but would always come back, ruining the garden it belonged to.

  The want for alcohol returned, but he used the memory of his time with Hanna as a stronger drug and eventually was able to fall asleep.