Horror Stories from Denmark Box set

by Rose, Willow

  I go to the kitchen and take out a roll of aluminum foil. I put all the sausages in the foil and wrap them up. I put the pan in the sink and then walk down to the freezer in the basement.

  I open the lid and put the sausages in for later. I push Mr. Berendsen's head to the side to make more room. I feel like he stares at me when I close the lid.

  "Be right there," I yell before I run up the stairs and shut the light off on my way up.

  THE END

  Eenie, Meenie

  Willow Rose

  1

  "Eenie, meenie, miny, moe. Catch a naughty boy by the toe. If he screams don't let him go. Eenie, meenie, miny, moe."

  The man was counting, pointing at the doors as he whispered the song in the dark hallway. His finger ended at door number nine. The man grinned and embraced himself for what was ahead. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. It was important not to rush these things. It had to be done just right. He pulled down the ski mask to cover his face, then walked to the thick door and peeked in through the small window to make sure the boy was asleep. Then the man pulled out the keys and put one in the lock.

  The boy was asleep in his bed when the man entered quietly. He didn't wake up even when the keys jangled in the lock. Not until the man was inside and had closed the door behind him, did the boy react. With a small shriek he sat up.

  "Who’s there?" he asked. "Who are you? What are you doing in my cell?"

  The man chuckled but didn't answer. He walked closer while hushing the boy as if he were a small child wakening from a bad dream instead of a juvenile criminal facing his real punishment for what he had done.

  "Hey. I asked you something," he said and got up from the bed. The boy was no more than fifteen, but working out along with the other prisoners had given him a muscular upper body that was very unusual for his age. His attitude suited his posture very well. He puffed himself up in front of the masked man and lifted his fists to show him that he would defend himself if the man came any closer. That didn't scare the man though. He was prepared for him to try and fight back. They all did. But the man was ready. He pulled a stun gun from his pocket and walked towards the boy. The boy gasped and drew backwards against the wall. The man walked closer with the gun crackling in his hand and as soon as it touched the boy and his body was shaking in spasms, the man knew it wouldn't take long before the boy would be like a puppy in his hands. Or maybe even more like a doll that he could do with as he pleased.

  The man chuckled while the electric impulses ran through the boy's body and as soon as he saw the eyes roll back into the head, he turned it off and let the boy's body fall lifeless onto the bed.

  "Time to get to work," the man said and put his briefcase on the bed next to the boy. He opened it and looked at the tools inside. He picked up a pair of pliers and examined them, moved them a little to see if that was what he wanted to use. He looked at the boy. A third time offender. His first offense was stealing cars with his older brother. Second time he robbed a small store and beat the crap out of the owner. Third offense was what really ticked the man off. The boy and his three brothers had gang-raped a girl in an alley after a party. They spotted her at the party in a private home, and then followed her when she was walking home with her boyfriend. According to the boy's file they attacked the boyfriend from behind and beat him senseless with baseball bats and then forced him to watch as they gang-raped his girlfriend.

  That was what troubled the man. It is one thing to steal a car or rob a store to get cash. It was wrong, yes and should be punished. But raping a fourteen-year-old girl and forcing her boyfriend to watch? That was too much. And apparently more than what the justice system could handle. The boy was more than they could cope with. One year in juvenile detention was the boy’s sentence. Which would probably be reduced to six months if he behaved. The man felt his fury rise just thinking about it. In a few months this boy would be out in the streets again, raping more innocent girls, beating more people up. And who knows what he might do next? The man knew these boys. They came back again and again. They never learned and the punishment the court gave them simply wasn't enough for them to stay out of trouble. And while they were inside the juvenile center? Well they just made new friends that were bad for them, who got them into more trouble as soon as they got out. It was a joke, really, the man thought. That was why he decided to take matters into his own hands.

  The man looked at the tools and decided on the folding utility knife.

  2

  It was Johnny's first time in the juvenile prison in Roedvig Stevns on the east coast of Zeeland. But it wasn't his first time in prison. He had done time before. Three times before, to be accurate so it wasn't an unfamiliar situation for him to be put in the small cell with nothing but a hard bench to sleep on, a desk, a closet, a small fourteen-inch TV and a sink.

  "Here you go," the warden said and Johnny stepped inside without a word. The door was closed behind him and locked.

  Johnny sighed and sat on the bench. It was just as hard as it had been in the other places he had been. The barred window under the ceiling seemed smaller and the walls were all painted screaming yellow, those were about the only things that weren't exactly the same as in the other places. The other inmates probably would be too. It usually didn't take Johnny long to piss some of them off and get beaten up in the toilet-room. But he didn't care. He had gotten stronger while he was on the outside by working out a lot. Plus he was older now and probably among the oldest. His experience would give him an advantage.

  It hadn't been his plan to be in this situation again. After his third time on the inside, he decided it was time to change his life. Once released from the previous prison, Johnny hadn't gone back to his old friends. He moved to get away from them and to start a new life. Where it went wrong along the way he now had two years to think about.

  Johnny rubbed his forehead and stared at the window. He could see nothing but the sky from here. How he already missed the big outside. He sighed and hit a fist in the pillow.

  "Damn you, Christian!" he yelled.

  Christian was his younger brother. He was the reason why Johnny had ended up in here, locked up once again. Johnny picked up the remote to take his mind off his brother. The small TV under the ceiling made a noise and some news anchor started talking. Johnny wasn't in the mood for too much reality, so he flipped the channels and found an old re-run of Friends, one he had seen many times before but still made him forget about his situation for just a few minutes.

  As soon as it was done, Johnny's thoughts circled back again on his brother. Johnny didn't know where he was hiding, but he hoped it was a good place, since the cops were still searching for him. Johnny hadn't cracked. He hadn't ratted his brother out and never regretted not doing so. Johnny had told them he did it, that he had done everything and no one else was involved. But of course they hadn't believed him. They threatened him with hell on earth if he didn't speak. They told him that they knew he was only taking the blame for his brother and that all he had to do was to tell them that Christian was the one who had done it, and where he was, and then they would let Johnny go.

  Of course Johnny hadn't listened to them. Who listens to cops? Who would rat out his own brother? No, he'd rather serve time, even if he hadn't done anything. Even if he had finally gotten his life back on track. It didn't matter. When it comes to family, you stick up for one another. You do what's necessary to help each other. Even if it means doing time for something you didn't do. It was beside the point.

  Yet they were still looking for him. They would be until they found him, they told Johnny. "We'll get him and then we'll make both of you do the time."

  Johnny had shrugged like he didn't care, but that was a lie. He did care. A lot even. Not about his own life. But about his brother's. Enough to take the fall. Doing time would have killed him. Christian wouldn't have been able to cope with it. Johnny had tried it before. He could do it again. No problem. Anything for your brother, right? Even if he ha
d been so stupid it made Johnny want to beat the crap out of him if he ever saw him again. It didn't matter.

  There wasn't much Johnny believed in, but he did believe in family and the bond between them. He would die for his brother; even take a bullet for him right here and now if necessary.

  And he knew that one of these days it might just be what he had to do.

  3

  Brian woke up to the sound of screaming. He gasped and opened his eyes. It sounded like it came from the cell right next to him. Brian sat up and listened. The screams were spine-chilling. He breathed heavily. An anxiety took a hold of him. What could that sound be? What had happened to Ali in the cell next to his?

  There was a lot of turmoil going on in the hallway outside and Brian got up to try and look out of the small window, but all he could see were the tops of the prison guard's heads. He heard voices, some of them seemed urgent, but couldn't discern what they were saying. The screaming hadn't stopped, it continued on and on and left Brian terrified. Had someone hurt Ali in the middle of the night?

  He ran to the window facing outside and tried to look down. He spotted blue lights and heard sirens in the distance coming closer. A few minutes later he heard more voices outside his door. He ran back and peeked out. Now he saw some new heads, new faces. Paramedics, he thought. He watched as they carried Ali out on a stretcher. His body was covered with a white blanket, but it was already soaked in blood. Brian gasped and pulled away from the door. The guards soon knocked on all the doors and told them to go back to sleep. But Brian didn't sleep anymore that night. He sat on the bed waiting for morning to come, shaking in fear. This wasn't the first night he had been woken by the sounds of screaming. It happened a lot lately, but never so close to him, never someone he knew. Rumors flew around the inmates about who was getting hurt, but no one knew by whom or why. None of the guards seemed to care, they just shipped the injured off to the hospital and that was that. None of their business. Brian heard his own teeth chatter in the night. He was cold, but that wasn't what caused his teeth to rattle.

  Brian stayed awake till the guards let him out for breakfast. His friends Gunnar and Torben sat with him at the table. No one said a word until Brian opened his mouth.

  "Any news on what happened?" he asked.

  Gunnar looked down, and then to each side to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation. "They say he was castrated," he said.

  Brian almost choked in his oatmeal. "What did you say?"

  "You heard me," Gunnar said. "They cut off his dick, man. With a small knife to make it take longer and hurt more. At least that's what they say."

  Brian lost his appetite. He pushed his bowl away. Torben took his and ate it like he was in a hurry.

  "That’s the second this month," Brian said. "The second inmate sent to the hospital. What the hell is going on here?"

  Torben was slurping as he gulped down the rest of Brian's breakfast. Gunnar sighed. He looked behind him before he spoke. "I tell you, something is wrong in this place."

  Torben grunted and nodded while licking the spoon.

  "I know," Brian said. "It's creepy."

  Torben and Gunnar stopped eating and stared at Brian.

  "What?" he said. "It's not like I'm scared or anything. I'm just saying it's real creepy, right?"

  "Sure," Gunnar said. "But I know what I'm gonna do if they come into my room. No one messes with me. I’m gonna give them what they deserve. Ain't nobody gonna touch my dick, if you know what I mean."

  They all nodded. Brian felt certain he could defend himself if it really came down to it. Lord knows he had been through many fights and he always ended on top. Only sixteen, Brian was as tough as they get. But what worried him in this moment was that so was Ali.

  Gunnar pulled Brian's sleeve. He nodded to his left. Brian looked in that direction and saw a guy, older than them by a year or two, tough one, with a scar on his neck. Brian recognized the knife-wound as he walked past them holding his breakfast tray.

  "Who's the new guy?" Torben asked.

  Gunnar bit the bread and pulled off a lump.

  "That's what we're gonna find out," Brian said while Gunnar chewed the bread with his mouth open.

  4

  Johnny saw them from far away. He deliberately walked past their table so they could check him out. He knew they were the bunch he needed to hang out with in order to stay safe. They were the tough group, the ones who were in control. He could tell by the way they looked at him, the way they talked and comported themselves. It was the same everywhere. On the first day it was all about making the right friends and right enemies. Johnny was good at reading people. It had become one of his most cherished survival-skills.

  He gave the boys a look as he walked by, to show he wasn't afraid of them, he was tougher than they were and make them sense his strength, sniff him out if you'd like, like dogs did. Johnny knew they were gonna ask other inmates questions about him in the coming hours. They would have their little group of wannabes, reservoir dogs to get them the information they needed on the "new guy."

  Johnny sat in a solitary spot feeling their eyes on his back and on his eagle-tattoo that stared back at them. He wanted to show them he wasn't afraid to turn his back on them, he wasn't afraid to sit alone, he wasn't afraid of nothing. That would pique their curiosity, just like he wanted them to. As soon as they knew about him and what he was in for, they would come, they would approach him and he would soon be part of their pack. It was all a game really, and Johnny knew exactly how to play it.

  It didn't take long. In the afternoon when they were all sent outside to the courtyard, all three of them walked towards him. Johnny was sitting on a bench smoking his third cigarette in a row when he heard their footsteps. He didn't turn around to look at them, but played it cool and kept his back turned to them until someone spoke.

  "Hey, new guy," one of them said.

  Johnny took a deep drag of the cigarette and blew out the smoke with a sigh. He turned his head and looked at them. He almost laughed when he realized how puny they really were. Three guys no more than sixteen with their hands in their pockets, pants hanging by their knees. One of them wore a baseball cap and completed the picture of a boy-band gone wrong.

  Johnny nodded with a grin. "What's up?" he said.

  "We wanna talk to you," the one on the right said.

  He was the stupid one. Johnny could tell by the look on his face. The follower. He was going to do anything Johnny told him to as soon as this little charade was over. The one in the middle was the leader. He seemed smart, Johnny could tell by his eyes, plus he had the others do the talking. The one on the left was the tough guy. He spat on the ground and talked with the cigarette clinging to his lip in the corner of his mouth.

  "What can I do for you?" Johnny said.

  "Don't try and sound smart," the stupid one on the right said. "We do the talking."

  Johnny repressed a chuckle and shook his head. "I don't think so," he said and turned away from them again. It was all a fight for power from now on, and he had to show them he didn't bow to anyone.

  Johnny didn't see it, but sensed what was going on behind his back. The small feisty, tough guy stepped forward and wanted to start a fight, but the smart one stopped him, held him back. If he was as smart as Johnny thought, he knew they might be able to use Johnny; he would be good to have on their side. Apparently he was. He walked around the bench and sat down next to Johnny. The two hotspurs stayed behind them.

  "So you're Johnny the Vampire?" he asked.

  Johnny nodded, taking another drag of his cigarette. Vampire was the nickname he had been given after he bit a man and ripped off some flesh from his throat during a fight. It wasn't a nickname Johnny was sad about, but he thought it was a little overboard. All he had done was defend himself with all he had as a thirteen-year-old kid when his father attacked his baby brother with a knife.

  Johnny spat on the ground and nodded.

  "And you are?" he asked, looking at
the guy next to him with the pretty eyelashes and very blue eyes.

  "Brian."

  "Nice to meet you, pretty boy Brian," he said and stuck out his hand. Brian smiled, took his hand and shook it.

  5

  Brian was concerned. Even if he had a new ally, a new friend who was extremely good to have on his side, he wasn't sure it was quite enough. No one knew who was behind the night attacks, but one thing was certain; it was someone with good connections and enough money to pay off the guards to let them in while the inmates were sleeping.

  Ali had many enemies especially in the West wing and without a doubt one of the guys from over there that had done this to him last night. It had to be someone he pissed off, Brian thought to himself staring out the window of the prison church during the ceremony Sunday morning. They were all present. They had to be. All one hundred and twenty four inmates in this juvenile prison had to go to the service on Sunday mornings. Those were the rules. Brian never understood why the prison forced them to go, none of the inmates listened to what the priest said. It wasn't like any of them were about to lay their lives down to God and stop being who they were. Who were they kidding with this anyway? No one here wanted to repent. They all knew that God couldn't stand them for who they were and he never would. Why else would he have given them such crappy lives? Why else would he have given Brian a father who ran away when Brian was only five and never came back? Why else would he have given Brian a stepdad who locked Brian in the bathroom so he could do nothing but listen when he beat Brian's mother? Why else would he have taken Brian's younger sister so early, that she barely made it to be seven years old? Why would he let the stepdad beat her till she didn't move anymore? Why? Why would he let the stepdad get away with it, get away with telling the police it was Brian? Why would he let his mother be so afraid of the stepdad that she would tell the police the same, just because he was only eleven and too young to be punished? Why would he let them get away with it? Why did he let Brian live the next three years in an institution where he was exposed to drugs?