Skeleton King (The Dirty Heroes Collection Book 9)

by Charity B.

  “Remember,” Jolt says. “Just.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Flinch.”

  She pulls out the knife protruding from the table before slamming it in between my pointer and middle finger. Faster and faster she stabs it between my spread fingers as her and her brothers take turns singing a nursery rhyme.

  “Early in the morning and the middle of the night.”

  “Two dead boys got up to fight.”

  “Back to back.”

  “They faced each other.”

  “Drew their swords.”

  “And shot each other.”

  On the last word, the blade slices the side of my ring finger and I gasp, pulling back my hand as they laugh.

  “All right, that’s enough,” Ogier chuckles. “I prefer her to have use of her fingers.” Reaching down for my cut hand, he rubs it over the growing erection in his pants, smearing the blood and winking at me when I make eye contact.

  After what he did this afternoon, I can barely stand to touch him. Even though the triplets don’t seem fazed, it makes me uncomfortable that he’s doing this in front of the kids.

  “Mmm,” he groans. “Why don’t you use that mouth to hold me over until after dinner?” Lowering his zipper, his hand immediately pushes my head down, forcing himself between my lips.

  I hate that the kids are here, watching this, and I just pray that this is as far as it goes. He squeezes my ears, forcing me to gag every time he pounds himself all the way to the base.

  Finally, he releases me, fastening his pants as I gasp for air. “We’ll continue this after dinner. Go finish the salad.”

  I sigh in relief, grateful to do something normal like making supper. Adding the tomato wedges, I reach for the dressing.

  Knock, knock, knock, knock.

  Knock, knock, knock, knock.

  My shoulders hunch as I jump at the loud noise. Spinning around, I see the triplets slamming their forks and knives against the table.

  “We.”

  “Want.”

  “Food!”

  “We.”

  “Want.”

  “Food!”

  Ogier pulls out a roast with vegetables, shaking his head in irritation. “Shut up, you little pricks. Don’t make me get the dog collars.”

  I hand bowls of salad to the kids while Ogier places the roast in the center of the table. We take our seats while he fills each of our plates. The kids aren’t touching their food, so I don’t either. It isn’t until Ogier sits and takes his first bite that the triplets dig in like feral animals.

  While I swallow a bite of salad, Ogier points his fork at me. “Try the meat.”

  He watches intently as I pick up the knife, not taking his eyes off me until I cut a piece and place it in my mouth. This must appease him because he stops watching me to go back to his own food.

  For once, the triplets’ mouths are too full to make a bunch of noise, allowing us to all eat in peace. The piece of roast I bite off is really big, getting caught in my throat. I’m taking a sip to swallow it down when Ogier asks, “So? Does she taste as good as she did earlier?” I shake my head, unsure of what he means. He points to my plate, “Esty.”

  When the gears in my mind click in place, I drop my fork, instantly gagging at the knowledge of what I just consumed. That was her other ‘use.’ Falling out of my chair to the floor, I choke until chunks of barely digested meat land on the linoleum.

  “Ewe!”

  “That’s.”

  “Nasty!”

  Ogier’s chair rumbles against the floorboards before the stabbing pain of him yanking me up by my hair shoots down my neck. “Fink was right about one thing: you’re an ungrateful cunt!” He spits his words in my face. Reaching back, he brings his palm against my cheek so hard, I fall face down into my vomit. “Clean this up then go to your fucking room. I better not see you again tonight.”

  I fight hard to hold back my tears while wiping up the puke and cleaning the floor. None of them speak to me again, and I appreciate that.

  My dress is soiled, but I don’t dare ask if I can clean it, so I just wear it to bed. My stomach turns every time I think about what I’ve just done.

  And he’ll probably make me do it again and again.

  There are things I could tell myself that would help me endure this new life. If I learned anything from being raised by Fink, it’s that accepting and adapting to a situation is the only way to survive it. I just don’t know if I want to anymore.

  Replacing Sarah

  John Skelver

  November 17th ~ Morning

  I don’t even bother to smoke a joint or drink a cup of coffee before jumping in my car to drive into the Mundane World. While Hallows Grove has many resources, we don’t have much in the way of common consumerism.

  There’s a thrift store fairly close by where I can find things to make her dress. I won’t be able to buy the same one Sarah wears because she made it. When she was younger, Fink would only get her new clothes when she grew out of them. He eventually taught her to sew, and as she got bigger, she began combining the fabric together to make the dress she now wears, adding to it whenever she needs.

  Once I reach the store, I look for designs that I think Sarah would like. I’m immediately drawn to the clothes with floral print because she always seems to be picking flowers when she’s outside. I choose a red, swirly skirt that’s close to the same shade of her hair, striped pajama pants that are reminiscent of the socks she always wears, and a T-shirt that reminds me of her scars. With more than enough to recreate her dress, I make my purchase, asking the sales clerk for a phone book to search for the closest wig shop.

  Though I find one nearby, it’s a big disappointment. Aside from a short one of similar color, there’s nothing comparable to Sarah’s hair. Just as I’m about to leave, a flash of red catches my eye. Under a bunch of discounted wigs, I find it. It’s perfect. Long, exactly like hers, and the perfect bright shade.

  Excitement sends my nerves into a frenzy. I take a few breaths, telling myself I can’t rush finding a body. It has to be exact, fresh, and naturally buried, so it may take time. As I sit in my car looking at my purchases, I conjure every detail of Sarah that I can from memory.

  Her eyes. I’ll need new ones that are her dark shade of hunter green. Her pupils are abnormally small, though, so I doubt I’ll find exact matches. I’ll also need to make a new mold especially for her.

  The urge to get started has me speeding home. Everything will need to be ready for when I find my perfect Sarah. As soon as I walk into my house, I take my shopping bags downstairs, repulsed at Wendy still lying on the table.

  Her embalming makes her insides useless to me, and since I don’t have any current skin orders to fill, I’ll need Mammoth to help get rid of her.

  As I call him to ask that he pick her up, Nothing keeps chewing on the phone cord, making me sound insane from snapping, “Stop that,” after every three words.

  Mammoth tells me he’ll be here within the hour, so I toss Wendy’s cadaver over my shoulder, carrying her out back to drop her on the bottom step.

  Time whirs around me as I clean and get organized, all my thoughts focused on preparing for my newest project.

  Nothing whines behind me until I look at him. “What, buddy?” My jaw drops when I see he’s holding Sarah’s torn, pink, striped panties in his mouth. I laugh in disbelief. “Maybe you really do understand.” Leaning down to take them, I scratch behind his ears. “That’s a good boy, Nothing.”

  She was obviously so upset that she forgot them, which gives me a strange mix of sadness and arousal. I bring them to my nose, inhaling deeply when I find that her scent is still present, assaulting my mind with memories. I can almost taste her breath and feel her pulse. I’ve never experienced anything so fucking…. blissful. Even though my erection almost hurts, I lay the undergarment on the table and continue with my plans.

  After combing the wig, I make a list of what else I need and sketch out a rough
idea of how my Sarah will look. Finding as many blank papers and colored pencils as I can find, I draw my fantasies. Once I have a blueprint of Sarah that I’m pleased with, I pull out the clothes I chose from the thrift shop and place them next to her panties. I’ll need a pattern, seeing as I really have no idea how to make a dress.

  Running upstairs, I grab my keys when there’s a loud knock at my front door. I look at my watch which tells me it’s late into the day and not an unrealistic time for visitors. As soon as I answer, I roll my eyes at the Sanity Eaters standing on my doorstep.

  “What do you guys want? I’m busy.”

  Jolt holds up a black trash bag and grumbles, “Daddy told us.”

  “To bring you what,” Cask pouts in between the massive licks he’s taking off his lollipop.

  Bolt drops his own bag on the porch with excessive force. “We couldn’t use.”

  Ogier always does this. Whenever he’s finished with a body, he gives me his leftovers so he doesn’t have to go through the hassle of getting rid of them. Picking up the bags, I drop them inside the door. All three of the triplets are frowning, in a worse mood than normal.

  “What crawled up your asses?”

  Bolt crosses his arms and nods toward their house. “We hate.”

  Cask assaults his candy in between his words. “That stupid.”

  “Rag doll,” Jolt sneers.

  Wait…Rag doll?

  “Sarah is at your house? Why?” My thoughts trip over themselves, trying to make sense of this. Did something happen to Fink?

  “She is.”

  “Our new.”

  “Mommy.”

  It always takes a second to process what they’re saying because of the annoying as fuck way they talk, but once I do, fire burns up my spine, erupting from my throat as I bellow, “WHAT?!” I’m suddenly split between rage and my fear for Sarah and Fink. I know what Ogier does to his whores, so I can only imagine Sarah’s fate won’t be any less brutal. “What did that motherfucker do to Fink?” They all look at each other, shoulders shrugging, clearly clueless. I scoff as I nod down my driveway. “All right, get out of here.”

  There’s no way Fink would ever willingly let Sarah go. If Ogier took her from him, then he’s undoubtedly out of control.

  Rushing to the linen closet, I take the black box off the top shelf and remove the lid. I bought this thing years ago and have never once used it. Opening the chamber, I slide in the six bullets before I point a finger at Nothing. “Stay home, boy.”

  My mind creates images of the possible circumstances I might find her in. I can’t come up with a single positive explanation for why she’d be at the Bognar house. As terrible as Fink is to her, I truly believe he cares for her. But Ogier is under no such delusion. He’ll destroy her.

  I’m not thinking this through, which is unlike me, however, when it comes to Sarah, I have a tendency to react differently than I normally would. I’m done being a spectator while yet another man in this town rips her apart.

  Once I arrive at the Bognar’s driveway, I slow my steps. I have no idea what I’ll be walking in on. I really don’t want to see him doing something horrific to her.

  Knocking seems stupid, so I simply walk in through the front door. The scene before me is the last I expected, stopping me dead in my tracks.

  Fink is absolutely fine. More than fine by the looks of it. He sits next to Ogier, holding a glass in his hand, laughing at whatever had been said before I arrived.

  They both look at me with bewildered expressions. “John?” Fink turns to me, leaning on his cane. “What’s wrong, my boy?”

  This doesn’t make any sense. What the hell is going on? “Where’s Sarah?”

  Ogier raises his brows, taking a sip of his drink. “No disrespect, Skeleton King, but that’s none of your goddamn business.”

  I jerk my head to Fink. “Did you…Did you just give her to him?!”

  He answers me with a subtle nod that skyrockets my body heat. What was it all for? Why do everything he did to her, just to toss her away? I don’t think I’ve ever been so fucking enraged with anyone in my life.

  With a snort, Ogier stands, gesturing to Fink. “Hardly. I paid this asshole a nice chunk of change for that pussy.”

  Hearing him talk about Sarah like she’s one of his whores blows the lid off the rage that’s been boiling in my gut since the triplets came over. Before my brain can catch up, my fist is slamming into his face with more force than I even knew I possessed. The hit catches him off guard, making him stumble. There’s nothing within his reach for him to hold on to, so he falls hard on his back.

  I’m not stupid enough to believe I have a chance against him in a fist fight, so I take advantage of the situation by jumping on his stomach as I pull the handgun from my jeans, holding it to his head.

  “Where is she?”

  The hardness of my voice makes it unrecognizable to my own ears. Even if he tells me, then what? Am I actually going to shoot him to get her out of here? I’ve never killed anyone before. What will happen to me after this? I’ve broken a handful of our laws already.

  When Ogier pushes his head harder against the barrel and smiles at me in his hideous way, I know there’s no way this will end with both of us alive.

  10

  Bathtub

  Sarah Stein

  November 17th ~ Midday

  “Rag doll!” Something keeps striking me on my thigh, forcing my eyes to pop open. “Wake up!”

  The window shows the setting sun, meaning I’ve been sleeping for an entire day. Jolt keeps hitting my leg with her BB gun, so I sit up and grab the barrel. “Stop that. What do you want?”

  “Daddy says,” Bolt crosses his arms.

  “You need.” Cask jumps next to me on the bed.

  “To come downstairs.” Jolt rips the gun from my grasp.

  I’m still groggy from sleep as I try to follow what they’re saying. “Why?”

  “Because he,” Bolt snaps as he opens my door.

  “Said so,” Cask adds.

  Jolt attempts to drag me out of bed while yelling at me, “You dumb rag doll!”

  As soon as I’m in the hall, I hear Fink’s unmistakable chuckle. “I shouldn’t laugh, but I can imagine that was quite the surprise for her.” My skin feels itchy just knowing he’s so close. I had hoped I’d have more time before having to see him again.

  I follow the Sanity Eaters downstairs into the main living room where Ogier is standing next to Fink, Ingvar and a little girl I’ve never seen before. It takes a moment for me to deduce why she’s here. When I do, I can’t breathe. This is what Fink meant about starting over.

  No…

  He’s already replaced me. She looks just like I do. It’s hard to breathe when she looks up at me with sad, wide eyes. “Sarah, go get us something to eat.” Ogier orders. I can’t make myself look at Fink or Ingvar, but it’s difficult taking my eyes off the little girl. “Now!” he barks.

  Nearly tripping over my own feet, I hurry toward the kitchen to arrange a vegetable and fruit plate. I strain my ears to hear what they’re saying, but the Sanity Eaters bang their way down the hall, making it impossible. They pass me on their way to the basement, not even acknowledging me when I ask if they want something to eat.

  Before I’m finished arranging the plate, all three of them run back through the kitchen with large trash bags in their hands.

  While I return to the living room, I hear Ogier’s deep voice playfully saying. “I’d be glad to give you a demonstration.”

  I keep my eyes on the floor, even though they fight to look at the little girl again. It feels like it’s all my fault that she’s here…with him.

  Setting the plate on the table, I can sense Fink’s eyes on me. “I might take you up on that. You’re free to one as well, you know.”

  Ogier’s laugh is loud in my ear as he pulls me onto his lap, lifting my dress before his fingers intrude my body. “My great grandfather was into the kiddie thing, but it’s not really my f
lavor.”

  His erection hardens beneath my butt, my thoughts getting tangled with the possibilities of what he’ll make me do next when he smacks my pussy and pushes me off of him. I’m able to stop myself from falling when he says, “Go through Jolt’s clothes in the basement and bring up what you think will fit this little one.” His hand waves in the girl’s direction.

  Nodding my obedience, I make my way downstairs to do as he asks. Plastic tubs sit stacked in the corner, and I’m grateful that Ogier had the organizational foresight to label them. After pulling off the top four boxes from the first stack, I finally find one labeled: Jolt size 8-10.

  I find myself searching for dresses until I realize I’m doing it because I know Fink prefers them. Settling on the cold floor, I begin separating the clothing into size and style. Just as I’m enjoying the peace and quiet, a loud bang startles me so badly I jump. As I turn my head to look up the stairs, I see the triplets dragging the little girl, whose eyes are large with terror.

  “What are you guys doing?”

  “Dad told us.” Bolt tugs on one of her arms, attempting to force her down the steps.

  Running to the bench, Jolt picks up an extension cord. “To play with her.”

  “Mind your.” Cask frowns as he passes me on his way to the baseball bat rack hanging from the wall.

  “Own business, Rag doll.” Jolt huffs, turning to help Bolt get the little girl into the old clawfoot bathtub.

  I’m proud of the child as I watch her use all her strength to make shoving her inside of the tub as difficult as possible for Bolt and Jolt.

  “Would you guys leave her alone? Can’t you tell she’s scared?”

  Jolt holds out the extension cord, her brothers taking hold of it to run in a circle and bind the girl with it. “You better shut up.” Bolt snaps.