by Tim Miller
“Just watch!”
“I don’t think this is a good idea dude. Seriously. I think he got your point.”
“The faggot bit my fucking dick! He wants to bite my dick? He can take it up the ass like homos do!” Buck unscrewed the mop handle and held it up. He looked down at Corey, smiling. “All right, faggot. Prepare your anus!” He took the long handle and thrust it between Corey’s legs. Finally, Corey was able to scream.
A week later, Corey sat in his room on the computer. Since the assault in the locker room he hadn’t been back to school. He’d told his parents what happened and they’d taken him to the hospital and even filed a police report. However, none of the boys who saw what happened or who had helped Buck carry out his attack would talk. All of them said nothing happened and that Corey had made it all up.
Except Corey had tearing around his anus as well as abrasions on the inside of his colon. But yeah, he’d made it all up. He’d been on a liquid diet for several days since passing food had become quite painful. At least most of the swelling had gone down, so sitting didn’t hurt like it had for a while. In his time away from school, his sadness and embarrassment from the attack had turned into rage. Pure, raw and unadulterated rage.
He didn’t want to go back to that school ever. No way could he show his face there again. He wanted blood. He wanted to see Buck and his pals suffer in ways that made what he went through look like a day at the park. Surfing around on his laptop, he found the site he’d come across before while surfing the dark web. The Suicide Hotline. He did want to die. There was no doubt of that. He was already filled with plenty of self-loathing as it was.
After this, he just wanted to die and take these assholes with him. Without giving it another thought he filled out the form and submitted it. There was nothing else and he figured it was all too good to be true. In his life, anything that could be good had to be untrue. He closed his laptop and went to sleep.
The next day, while his parents were at work, the doorbell rang. It rang several times until he threw a shirt on and answered it. A tall, handsome man was standing there in a black suit.
“Hi, Corey. May I come in?” the man said.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Mr. Black. You contacted the Hotline.”
“Holy shit. For real? You mean that’s real?”
“Yes Corey. I’m quite real. It didn’t take us long to evaluate your situation. As a matter of fact, we’d already heard about it. Those monsters did quite a number on you. And you want revenge, correct?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“You do know we are called the Suicide Hotline, correct?”
“Yeah I know. I don’t want to live anymore. My life has been nothing but miserable. I can’t even go back to my own school. Everyone in this part of the state knows what happened to me. I just want to die, and take them with me. But I want to make them hurt. I want them to suffer.”
“I think we can arrange that for you, Corey. Now, may I come in?”
Corey looked around and nodded his head.
“Oh yeah. Shit. Sorry.” Corey stepped aside and let Mr. Black in. They sat on the couch where Mr. Black explained the program.
“Ok,” Corey said. “So it won’t hurt, right?”
“No sir. Not one bit. Our operators are skilled at taking life and know when to make it as merciful as possible.”
“How about Buck and his pals? Will they hurt?”
“From what you described, yes I have something special in mind. They will suffer greatly. You can be just as hands-on as you’d like.”
“Good. Fuck that motherfucker.”
“Yes. It sounds like you’ve got an excellent grasp on this.” Mr. Black put out his hand and Corey shook it. “Ok, son. We have a deal. We’ll be in touch.”
Three weeks later, there had been no further word from Mr. Black or any other member of the Hotline. He had spent a lot of his spare time drawing. Fantasizing about what he’d do to Buck. He drew pictures of Buck being decapitated, disemboweled and other fun things. Whether it would actually happen or not, he didn’t know. In the meantime, Corey was forced to go back to school but at least got a pass from P.E. That didn’t make the rest of the situation any better. Everyone looked at him and no one talked to him. That in itself wasn’t unusual. This time it was the stares and the snickers that got to him. He couldn’t even walk down the hall without feeling every single eye on him. Going to the bathroom was terrifying. Fortunately, no one bothered him outright. The upside to all this was teachers were constantly asking him if he was ok. The guidance counselor would check on him weekly. So most the of kids knew better than to fuck with him.
One day after school, Mr. Black was waiting for him in the parking lot. He was seated inside of a large, black SUV. He rolled the window down as Corey walked by.
“Hello Cory. Remember me?”
“Um. Yeah. You’re Mr. Black.”
“That’s right. It’s time. Hop in.”
Corey got into the vehicle and sat across from Mr. Black as the vehicle pulled away.
“So, where we going?” Corey asked.
“We’re going to visit your tormentors. Just like you wanted.”
Corey felt his stomach tighten at the thought of confronting the boys who had violated him, especially Buck. He’d only seen Buck a couple of times at school since returning. Each time, Buck would look at him and wink. The first time it had happened Corey’s bladder had let loose as he wet himself. At least he’d gotten to go home early that day. Mr. Black must have read the angst on his face.
“Don’t worry, son. They won’t be able to do you any harm. You, on the other hand, will be able to inflict as much pain as you want.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Seriously. We’re almost there.”
They drove through an old industrial park until they arrived at an abandoned factory. The SUV stopped outside, and they climbed out. Corey followed Mr. Black into the dark building where they wove through a maze of old machines and equipment until they reached a set of tables lit up by a set of flood lights around them.
As he approached the tables, he saw a couple of men standing around wearing ski masks and military fatigues. There were three boys, each strapped to a table. The one in the middle was Buck. The other two boys he recognized from the assault. The ones who’d held him down. While he hated them all, it was Buck who had led the attack. The other clowns were just his underlings. The stuff Buck wipes off his shoes.
As he approached the tables, one of the masked men standing next to a cart approached him.
“How’s it going, sport? You ready?” the man asked.
“I guess so.”
“Good. Here you go.”
The man stepped aside and Corey saw Buck lying on the table, naked. He was wide-eyed and trembling. As soon as he saw Corey his eyes grew wider as his mouth hung open.
“Corey! What? What the fuck? What is this?”
Corey wasn’t sure what to say. He looked up at the masked man who backhanded Buck across the face. Blood burst from his lip as the man’s gloved hand connected. He cried out as the man looked back at Corey.
“You don’t have to take any shit from him, sport. Just fuck him up good. Check this out.”
Corey looked at the table and saw an assortment of tools and instruments lying there.
“So what do I do?”
“Here. Let me show you. Pick up any one of these things.” The man picked up a straight razor and flipped it open. A shiny blade reflected the lights as the man slashed a cut across Buck’s chest. Blood ran down his chest as Buck screamed. The man put the razor back on the table.
“If you want to up and kill him right now, you can. But by the look in your eyes I can tell you want him to suffer. So look at the tools here and take your pick. Might want to put these on.” He reached down and handed Corey an apron, gloves and some goggles. Corey put the items on and looked through the tools. Buck tried to plead his case as he struggled.
Corey finally looked him in the eye.
“Didn’t mean anything? You fucking raped me with a mop handle, you asshole. That’s not fucking horseplay. This was after you made me suck your dick. Yet you called me a faggot. Yes, I’m gay. And you know what, you’ve had more blow jobs from guys than I have. So what does that make you?”
Tears ran down Buck’s face.
“I don’t know, man. I just get confused sometimes. And it pisses me off. But this? You trying to scare me? This some big attempts to make me beg? Fine! I’m begging. Don’t hurt me! Please. I’ll tell you something. I think I may be gay too. Ok? You feel better?”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m fucking serious. A few months ago at a party, I was drunk and so was another dude. He goes to another school. We were sitting in one of the back rooms during the party and just bullshitting. The kid was an athlete like me. So we were both pretty wasted and he starts like touching my arm and stuff. And I kept thinking how good he looked. I mean, I don’t know, man. I sometimes find guys attractive. I push it down though ‘cause its fucking weird. I don’t wanna be some homo. But that night me and him we ended up fooling around. It was fun, but afterward I kind of freaked out. I beat his ass and left.”
“You’re making that shit up.”
“No! I’m not! Dude, I’m serious. So you want to know why I hate you? It’s because you can be open about who you are. I can’t. If I came out, everyone would flip out. Shit, I saw how they treated you and you’re just some nobody. People would really flip their shit if I came out. I might even get kicked off the team. So I just take it out on you.”
Corey looked at the tray and found an ice pick and held it up.
“You take it out on me. Because you’re own insecurity is my problem. Right?”
“No! It’s not! Sorry! I said I was sorry. Ok?”
“Ok. So you’re sorry. Now that you’re strapped to a table and I’m about to torture you. And if we were to let you go, you’d start right in on me again.”
“No! I promise! I swear on my life!”
“You got that last part right,” Corey said as he shoved the icepick into Buck’s ear. Buck screamed and howled with pain. A combination of blood and yellow fluid ran out of his ear as Buck twitched and thrashed. Corey removed the icepick and stood watching Buck cry. The two boys on the other tables had woken up during his fit and begun screaming as well. Corey looked at the masked man next to him.
“Can you just cut their throats? I don’t want to waste my time with them.”
“You got it, sport,” the man said as he nodded to the other masked men. Seconds later he heard gags and gurgling sounds coming from the boys before they went silent. Buck settled down but was still trembling.
“Holy shit! You fucking killed them! You just fucking killed them!”
“No shit. You’ll be dead soon enough. But you need to suffer a bit more.”
Buck began sobbing as Corey picked up a knife and walked to the end of the table. He grabbed the top of Buck’s foot and thrust the knife into the bottom of Buck’s foot. Buck screamed again as Corey sliced and carved away at his flesh, removing the sole and heel skin of Buck’s left foot.
“Oh my God! Ow! Ow! Fuck! Fuck! Shit! Please no more! No more!”
There were also bottles of various chemicals on the table. Corey made a mental note of them as he did the same with Buck’s right foot, carving the flesh away from his foot.
“Stop! Pleeeaaase!” Buck whined as he sobbed and cried. Corey walked to the table as he tossed the severed flesh to the floor and picked up the bottle of bleach. Walking back to Buck’s feet, he poured the bleach over the fresh wounds. Buck tried to kick as the bleach burned the exposed muscle and bone. Corey smiled as he put the bottle back on the table and looked at the masked man.
“Can you flip him over?”
The man nodded as two others came over and undid Buck’s straps. They flipped him onto his stomach. He gave them a bit of a struggle, but the men were much stronger. They strapped him back down as Corey walked back over to the cart.
“What are you doing?” Buck asked. “What are you gonna do?”
Corey didn’t speak as he picked up a drill. There were several bits lying about. He found the longest, thickest one on the tray. It was almost eight inches long and a half-inch thick. There was a blowtorch next to it. Corey heated the bit using the blowtorch until it was glowing red. He pulled the trigger on the drill and listed to the motor rev as Buck became more and more agitated.
“What was that? What’s happening? Come on! Dude! Please!” Buck screamed.
“What was that you said to me, Buck? Oh yeah? ‘I bet you like it in the ass.’ Sound about right?”
“No! No! Please!”
Corey spread Buck’s cheeks apart and pressed the red hot drill bit against his asshole. His flesh sizzled as the smell of burned skin filled the room. One of the masked men even gagged at the odor. Buck screamed as Corey pulled the trigger and pushed the drill in as hard as he could. Chunks of skin and flesh and eventually globs of shit splattered everywhere.
Corey pinched his mouth shut as blood and feces shot onto his face and goggles. Buck thrashed and twitched until the drill was all the way in. When he was done, Corey undid the bit from the actual drill and took the drill away, leaving the large piece of hot metal lodged in Buck’s ass.
Buck was gasping and heaving as Corey set the drill down on the table. There was also a set of fish hooks spread out with fishing line attached. Corey took the hooks and walked over to Buck, pulled his eyelid out and ran the hook through his eyelid. He did the same to the other as Buck continued screaming. Corey looped the fishing line over Buck’s head and pulled it tight and wrapped the line around his ears, tying them off. The finished look, his eyes were being pulled open by the fish hooks which were tied around his ears.
“Damn Buck, you look like shit. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Buck didn’t scream or cry this time, the only noises he made were rapid gasps. His eyes yanked open by the hooks as blood drops trickled into his eyeballs. His eyes darted around frantically, unable to blink as tears ran down his face. Corey walked back to the tray and picked up the roll of fishing line. He unwound a length of it and wrapped it around Buck’s neck. Corey looped it around and unstrapped Buck’s feet as the masked man held his legs in place while Corey wrapped the line around his ankles, bending his legs up at the knees at a forty-five-degree angle and tying the line in place.
Buck tried not to gag as he held his feet in place. Corey stood back and admired his work. As long as Buck could keep his knees bent, he’d be in sight discomfort. As his muscles gave way and relaxed, he would slowly choke himself to death.
“Please…” Buck struggled to say. “Corey…please. I’m sorry…just...” His legs began shaking as Corey looked on. Over the next hour, Buck struggled against his own fatigue until he couldn’t hold it any longer. When his legs finally gave out, he choked and gasped as he helplessly strangled himself. Finally his body went limp. Corey looked up at the masked man who shook his head.
“Damn, sport. You’re hardcore. You know that?”
Corey didn’t know what that even meant, but didn’t care. The numbness had set in a long time ago. All he’d felt since the assault was pure rage and hate. He’d relished every second of watching his tormentor suffer. Unfortunately, the rage and hate were still with him. Not that it mattered. He had a cure for that, too.
“Ok kid. Now it’s your turn. You ready?”
Corey nodded.
“Can I do it myself?”
“What?”
“The razor. Can I do it myself? With the razor?”
The man drew his gun and nodded at the tray.
“Sure. No one’s ever done that before. Go ahead. No funny business or I’ll do it for you.”
C
orey nodded as he picked up the razor and sat down on the floor, leaning up against the table. He looked up at the masked man.
“Thank you,” he said as he held out his arm and slashed his own wrist. To his surprise, it didn’t hurt as bad as he’d thought it would. He watched with fascination as the life drained from his body. Slowly his eyes grew heavy as he leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. The masked man walked up and stood over him watching. Just before things went dark, for the first time since he could remember, Corey felt peace.
6.
Mr. Black
Mr. Black watched from the shadows as Corey took his own life. He smiled, watching the boy. Very strong boy, that one. Too bad he had to go. Perhaps they could have used him. Corey reminded Mr. Black of himself when he was a teen. He sure wasn’t a large boy himself. Except he had some other issues. Issues that started him down his current path.
He left the warehouse and climbed into the SUV. The driver started the car and they headed back to their destination. As they drove, Mr. Black looked out the window and thought to the time he was Corey’s age. Unlike Corey, his family had means. His father was a real estate developer, but his mother stayed at home. She wasn’t really a housewife, unless you counted sitting on the couch and drinking wine as housework.
Mr. Black’s troubles started around Corey’s age. See, he’d always had a fascination with animals. He loved animals. He loved to play with them, and pet them. He also wanted to know how animals worked. What made them tick? He had the same curiosities about people, but he couldn’t just go cutting people open. So he found a stray dog running around their neighborhood. He put food out for the dog and earned the animal’s trust.
He wasn’t even sure of the breed. It was a shaggy, medium size dog and friendly enough. On some days he would throw a ball around with the animal and watched him gleefully grab it and return it to his new friend. On the day it was time, he’d laced the dog food with rat poison. For what he wanted to do, he didn’t want the dog to suffer.
The dog finished eating, looked up and stumbled away from the bowl. He yelped and whined as he sat down, and rolled to his side. He continued whimpering and whining for several minutes until he stopped moving. He picked up the dog and carried him behind the shed. Their shed was larger than the average tool shed. It was more like a small cabin, except they kept tools and garden items out there. The shed was far enough away from the house that he could hang out there for hours and not be noticed. Not that anyone was paying that much attention.