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He couldn't understand what he was doing. His legs carried him to a large two-story house, which under normal circumstances would have been creepy, but not now, when his mind was clouded and his thoughts just wouldn't come together.
- Roy, why are we going there?... - a nervous, slightly trembling voice was heard from the left. Somewhere at the back of his mind, the thought flashed that this voice belonged to Robert. But Roy didn't pay attention to his friends' questions. Instead, there was only one goal in his head: revenge. Revenge for everything that had happened to him. For all the pain and suffering. Nothing else matters. No one else matters. Only revenge, bloody and spectacular. That's what he wanted. Only he had to end it all. Beautifully and cruelly, like in the most disgusting horror films.
His legs trod the perfectly memorized path to the tall, dark building on the hill, made in the Gothic style. Ross and Robert tried to stop the angry boy a couple of times, but the brown-haired teen was adamant, simply not noticing their actions. And Robert and Ross themselves could barely move their legs and generally managed to control their bodies through force, just so as not to fall on the dirty grass right here and now. All that was left was to follow the gang leader. The first - because he was used to it and, "Roy always knows what to do." The second - in order to protect this very Roy, and Robert, from a possible fuck-up, and if anything, at least try to grab both by the collars and drag them away from the ill-fated house. While Ross was thinking up possible escape routes, the guys had already approached the building. Trembling and staggering Robert tried to take Roy by the hand, since he saw a huge pool of blood right next to the house, which he also tried to warn his friends about by pointing his finger in its direction. Words wouldn't come out, his tongue was slurred, the poor blond couldn't say anything. Images of hidden fears, the most terrible moments of his life kept popping up in his head. The boy tried to find salvation in his friends, to stay afloat in reality at least a little, without going into nightmares, but it didn't work out well.
Roy jerked his hand away sharply and hissed at the blond, without even looking at him.
Everything seemed so unreal. It was like a dream. This couldn't be real, right? In reality, Roy didn't have the guts. He couldn't kill him, he was too afraid. And if this was a dream, then... it meant he could do whatever he wanted.
Suddenly, euphoria washed over the boy and the brown-haired teen smiled happily. An unusual lightness engulfed him completely, as if he wasn't tired at all from lifting his plump body up the hill, as if the bat wasn't so heavy. Yes, this was definitely a dream. The most wonderful dream of his life. For a moment, the thought comes to mind that it’s so good that he’ll share this moment with his best friends.
A second later, the owner of the striped sweater kicks down the unlocked door. The teenagers enter the dark building. It smells like dust and iron. Or more exactly... blood.
- Oh, God, Fuck! - a male voice screams, straining and crying. Roy turns his head in the direction of the scream and sees a pleasant picture. A bald man, about thirty or forty years old, dressed in a classic black business suit, is sitting against the wall in the corridor, grabbing his bloody stump with his hand and awkwardly, in a panic, trying to stop the bleeding. He was missing an arm. More precisely, it was apparently crushed...
Gray eyes in rectangular glasses finally catch the silhouettes of the teenagers and notice familiar outlines.
- Roy! Oh my God, Roy, you have no idea how timely you are! Quickly, call an ambulance! - the man shouted, relief and a little hope appeared on his face. His beloved nephew would help him. He wouldn't leave him in trouble, would he?
Roy stands motionless for a while, staring at his uncle with unblinking eyes, eyes that didn't reflect anything. And then they flare up with rage.
A moment and the guy swings the bat, hitting the man hard on the head. The man flies to the side and passes out, splashing blood.
Roy laughs, quietly and very often, even creepily. Creepy - that's what Ross manages to think, seeing Robert fall to his knees in shock.
- Ross, put the kettle on. - Roy says, turning to the brunette. - We need to wake up our main character of the occasion. - A sadistic smile lights up his face.
-Rise and shiiiiiine...- sings a high, slightly squeaky voice. Roy takes the just boiled kettle and begins to slowly pour the contents right into the face of the hated bastard. For a couple of seconds the reaction is minimal, but later, when the boiling water scalds his face and the skin begins to bubble and become covered with small blisters, the man screams heart-rendingly at the top of his lungs. The teenager laughs, enjoying his screams. Then he throws the kettle at the wall. Robert and Ross sit in armchairs, trying not to look at this performance. Or rather, they just don’t interfere. Robert asks if they need to do anything, in response to which Ross hands him a mug of green tea. He had mixed feelings. On the one hand, what is happening now is not normal. On the other hand, this bastard deserved it. More than that. Ross still could not believe it. Now he couldn't even remember the moment when they realized that Roy and his uncle had more than just a family relationship. It was creepy. Creepy, disgusting and scary because the guy thought it was completely normal, and his friends couldn't do anything about it. Every time this topic was even briefly brought up, it became so disgusting that it was indescribable. Disgusting and the only thing that made his eyes fill up with tears. Roy was Ross's first and best friend. They literally practically grew up side by side. And now this comes out... Dammit, if he was even a little sane, he would get up right now and beat the shit out of this bastard! Hit and hit and hit until he made a bloody mess out of his face! ...
Robert asked if there are any sweets in the kitchen. Ross carefully got up and headed to there.
Meanwhile, Roy swung the bat again and hit the guy right in the stomach. There was a crunch of ribs, a scream from the uncle, and then a cough, after which the man spat out a stream of blood, mixed with saliva and snot.
The brown-haired man squatted down next to him.
- You know, uncle, I've been thinking a lot about you and me... or rather, about how much I hate you. You can't imagine how long I've been waiting for this moment! The moment when I can finally take it out on you for all the pain...
- W-what are you talking about, you little bitch?! What pain?! I didn't do anything bad to you! - a quick glance towards Robert, who was peacefully drinking tea, and Ross, who had just come from the kitchen with a bag of candy - What did these assholes tell you?! They want to take away your last manifestation of love, what do you get- - the man didn't have time to finish sentence, as the boy's hands grabbed his neck, squeezing and pressing hard on his throat, choking him.
- Don't you dare talk about them. - The voice became menacing and creepy, as if the usual squeaky tone had been cut out of it with a scalpel. The guy's grip was strong, even though he was much younger than the man, the uncle could not break free, which is why he was suffocating, his eyes bulging out of his forehead, hoarse pleas for him to stop were heard from his mouth. Finally, Roy lets go of his throat and the uncle convulsively inhales air, choking and coughing. Saliva rolls down his chin.
- Ugh, fuck! - Roy says with disgust and shakes his hands, after which he twitches and grimaces. - Even touching you like this is disgusting. - He picks up the bat again. - But oh well, I won't need it. - A swing and another blow that landed on the other hand. The man screams and falls, unable to keep his balance. Gathering all his remaining strength, he rolls over onto his back.
-Why... Why, Roy?! Everything was so good! You shouldn't do this! You love your uncle, don't you?!- the bastard screams, making a last attempt to reason with his nephew, who has gone crazy.
-Good, huh? GOOD?! - another hit with the bat - Do you think that was fucking good?! - tears involuntarily flow from his eyes because of his nerves - RAPING YOUR OWN NEPHEW FROM THE AGE OF ELEVEN?! DRILLING IT INTO HIS HEAD THAT THIS IS NORMAL, AND THEN WHEN THE BOY REFUSES, BEATING HIM UNCONSCIOUSNESS AND CONTINUING TO RAPING HIM IN THIS SAME FUCKING CONSCIENCE?! - Roy screamed and screamed, not stopping to hit the bastard with the bat, breaking his bones, enjoying the sharp crunch. Suddenly the guy threw the bat away. Screw the disgust. This bastard should suffer until the end.
He went up to the man, grabbed his leg and started to twist, breaking it. The bone was tearing through the skin and suit, there was already so much blood that it could fill a bathtub. The man screamed, begged, but the guy continued, breaking the bone one after another. After some time of such machinations, Roy sat down on the floor, breathing heavily. He chuckled slightly, his head was still a mess. The living room they were in was illuminated by the blue light from his eyes. It's strange, because Roy doesn't have blue eyes, but the boy didn't care. Anything can happen in a dream.
- Ahahaha... how stupid I was... how long did it take me to understand that you don't care about me. You just like to fuck little boys. - He paused for a second, looked at the bastard, and admired his work. - And I trusted you... I laid out my soul, so to speak. Ehh... - Roy finally got up from the floor. His entire striped sweater was covered in blood. The guy picked up the bat again.
- How I wish you could feel everything I felt... But alas, I'm not going to rape you. You'll like it, won't you, freak?And I want you to suffer... - Another smile from the teenager. The man can't answer. He just lies and wheezes on the floor. His body looked like meat being minced. Meat grinder... hmm. And that's an idea.
And now it's in the teenager's hands.
Roy sticks uncle's stump into the meat grinder, turns it on and grinds the rest of his hand into mince. The man finds the strength to scream again. Tears are pouring out of his eyes, snot is running out of his nose. Hot liquid is pouring down his legs. Roy almost wants to puke from the realization that the bastard has pissed himself in convulsions, but the teenager continues to slightly plunge his hand into the mince. Then he grabs the mince with his hands and shoves it down the bastard's throat. - Eat! Eat, bitch! - the man chokes, so he has no choice but to eat his own flesh. When the hand was eaten, thinking about what else to do to hurt him, the teenager drags a blowtorch and an axe from the pantry. He swings the axe sharply and hits the groin area, castrating the bastard. The bastard screams and sobs heart-rendingly.
Then, Roy takes the blowtorch and tries to stop the bleeding from all the wounds by cauterizing them. Again, the house is shaken by screams of hellish pain. The skin under the wounds bubbles, becomes covered with blisters, and they burst, so that new ones appear in their place. Finally finished with this, Roy gets up. The man is still breathing. His gaze expresses nothing.
- You are tenacious, bastard... but it only good for me. - Roy grabs the bat and delivers the final blow to the head. The glasses shatter into pieces. The man passes out.
And the boy shakes in terrible, hysterical laughter.
- Roy... - Ross tried to say something, but did not find the right words. He just watched as his friend, covered in blood, laughed and threw the bat on the floor.
- Oh guys, - Roy caught his breath from laughing - I'm so happy! You just have no fucking idea! - the teen lifts his head up, letting the streams of blood that got on his hair run down his face.
- R-Roy... did you kill him?... - Robert asks, nervously fiddling with the zipper on his jacket.
- Probably... - a calm and rested tone, rare for him - Or maybe not... in any case, you'll help me get rid of the body, huh? You don't want me to go to jail, do you? - Roy turned slightly to them.
Robert was in some kind of shock. Frozen in place, his only desire was to go home, run into the room, wrap himself in a blanket and hide in the arms of his older brother. Ross, however, had more or less regained normal consciousness, frantically thinking about how to get them all out of this shit.
- Let's empty the chest of drawers... - the brown-haired man flashed a blue light from his eyes.
Waking up in the morning on a wooden bench is not the best feeling. That's what Roy thought, covering his eyes with his free hand from the bright light. His head hurt as if he had drunk half a cabinet of his father's whiskey the day before and then spent two hours banging his head against the wall.
- Fuck... - the brown-haired man slowly stated, rubbing his face, then raising himself up on his elbows. A beer can, previously clutched in his other hand, fell onto the pavement out of nowhere. What happened yesterday? A reasonable question, extremely normal, which is what infuriates Roy, who had just woken up. His head started to throb even more, causing the boy to grab it with his hands, tugging on his curly hair in an attempt to ease the pain, but to no avail. It looks like he really got drunk last night. It's not surprising, considering what's been going on in his life lately.
-Roy! - a sudden voice from afar makes the teenager look up.
Ross himself is running down the street. Surprisingly, he was without a hat. Did he run away from home or something?
The brunette runs up to his friend sitting on a bench and leans on it, catching his breath. Through frequent sighs, he begins to surround the guy with questions:
- What the hell, dude?! Where have you been all night?! I've been running around looking for you since midnight! - Ross was tired and irritated. Fresh bags were visible under his eyes. Only now Roy could see that Ross's shirt was pulled over his pajama top. Apparently, he really did run away.
- All night?.. - the brown-haired man asked in disbelief.
- Yes! Where did you disappear to? - the brunette did not let up.
- I... I don't remember... - suddenly the headache made itself known again. Roy screamed. It felt like his skull was being drilled from the inside with a drill. It was unbearably painful, which is why tears began to gather in the corners of his eyes. - I don't remember! God, fuck, it hurts! - the teenager curled up on the bench, digging his nails into his scalp.
Ross was taken aback at first, but then jumped up to his friend, hugging him.
- Everything is fine. I had the same crap last night. I almost ate the whole pack of painkillers. Luckily, my mom sent me to my room, it calmed down a little there. - the guy fell silent, as if realizing something - Let's go, you need to go home.
The brunette grabbed the short brown-haired guy by the elbow and they went towards Roy's house. Having put his thoughts in order a little, the guy managed to look around. The house was literally two steps away. Mentally, he thanked his drunk self for thinking of falling asleep next to the house, and not somewhere shitty.
Having reached the high fence that was connected to the alarm, the teenagers parted. Roy turned his face to the camera and rang the doorbell.
They picked up the phone, but did not start talking right away.
- After you go inside, you're in for a serious talk, Reynold. - a persistent female voice was heard in the receiver, after which the sound of the fence door opening was heard.
- Yeah... good luck to you, dude. - Ross said sympathetically.
- Yeah, guess I'll need it. - Roy smiled. The headache had subsided, and he could think normally now. - You said your head hurt too. Tell me, do you remember anything that happened yesterday? - Roy hoped that Ross could remember at least something. He needed to come up with an excuse, and quickly. At least something... He couldn't let his parents know that he was already indulging in alcohol!
- No, Roy, nothing. Everything is a mess, damn it. The only thing I remember is that... - he suddenly felt sick from remembering their conversation that evening. "What do you mean it's wrong?" - was spinning in his head like a jackhammer. - We made fun of losers. You know, those little brats who always wear pumpkin and skeleton costumes. And then nothing. Darkness and that's it. And then I wake up in my mom's arms in the kitchen...
-Yeah, what a night...okay, I'm going! Bye! And yeah, if you see Robert, tell him I'm sorry...or at least say hi. - Roy reluctantly looked at his own house.
-Why is that?
-I don't know...for some reason I have a strong feeling that we had a fight yesterday.
-Okay, bye, dude!
The door to the iron fence closed and the teenager headed down the gray brick road to his house.
-What the hell, Reynolds?! - screamed a woman dressed in a burgundy silk robe - First you leave us under the pretext of getting the books you need for your studies from the library, and then you disappear for the whole night! Where the hell have you been?!
Reynold stood with his head down and looked anywhere but at his mother. This was not uncommon - Roy often did various dirty tricks, sometimes even to spite his parents, which is why he was punished and often shouted at. The boy was already used to this, so it did not make him sad or want to burst into tears. Only now his head starts to hurt again from the screams and at the end of his mother's wonderful terade, all that was left was the desire for it to end as soon as possible.
- I'm sorry. This will not happen again. - he says a phrase he had long since memorized.
- Do you even imagine how worried your father and I were?! We thought you were kidnapped! Or something worse! - a lie. It's all a lie. Roy knows it. He wants to scream at his mother, tell her everything he thinks, but the boy doesn't move. He knows perfectly well that his parents don't give a damn about him. All they care about is money and business, and if they were worried, it was not for their son, but for their image. Fucking narcissists. - Your usual sorry won't help anymore. And where the hell is your sweater?!
Roy looks at himself. And really - only now did he notice that he was wearing only a T-shirt. Fucking hell, where did he manage to lose his sweater?!
-You're grounded. A month under house arrest! No, a year!
For a moment, the boy stopped breathing.
-What?..No, mom, you're not-
-We're tired of all your shit, Reynold! If simple punishments don't work on you, then we'll have to move on to harsh ones! From now on, our driver will take you to and from school. And no refusals, otherwise you will be transferred to home schooling, you will not leave the house at all! - the woman's words sounded like a sentence.
Roy looked at his father with a small bit of hope, looking for if not support, then at least sympathy. But his father's gaze was full of severity, pride and disdain. It seemed to say, "You deserve it, Reynold." Reynold... how he hated that name.
- Go to hell! - the teenager cried out sharply and quickly headed to his room. His father wanted to say something, but his mother stopped him. The woman looked sadly at the teenager walking down the stairs.
Slamming the door of the room, Roy fell onto the bed, took a pillow, pressed his face into it and screamed at the top of his lungs. He wanted to vomit, tug his hair out, but Roy only lay on the bed, knowing that this would make his situation worse. After a while, the guy threw the pillow on the floor and turned on his back, starting to look at the ceiling.
Is it really possible that the only place he can spend time with his friends now is school? What if he gets transferred to some expensive private school? Then he'll never see his friends again!...
He wanted to burst into tears, but he held back. He'd been allowing himself a lot of weaknesses lately. His gaze fell on the photo on the nightstand.
Three eleven-year-old boys were smiling cheerfully at the camera. At the bottom, written in black pen, was the inscription: "The Gang".
-What's wrong, Richard? - the woman with long curly hair asked in a gentle tone. Oh yeah... she never spoke to Roy like that.
-Huh? - the man looked up from reading the newspaper and flicked the ashes from his cigar into the ashtray.
-What's wrong, darling? You've been kind of gloomy lately. - Carmen took her fork of classic Italian pasta and put it in her mouth.
- Oh well... no news from my brother lately. Doesn't call, doesn't show up... Remember, he was trying to come visit us almost every day, and now there's no sign of him. It's all so weird...
- Oh, come on. Maybe he has things to do. He hasn't called you for two days, and you're already running to look for him.
- Well, yeah... maybe you're right. - Richard put the newspapers aside and started eating dinner. - Hey, Reynold. - he called his son.
Roy, who had been looking like he was being forced to eat his own vomit instead of delicious pasta, looked up and stopped picking at his pasta with a fork. He couldn't eat anything now, although he usually didn't mind emptying almost half the refrigerator.
- Yes, Dad? - the teenager forced out.
- You can go for a walk to your uncle's house tomorrow. - his father's words horrified him. Will he really have to meet him again?... After all, he was just glad that he wasn't trying to contact them, and then again. Not this.
No.
No.
No.
No.
- But..I-I'm punished, right?.. - the brown-haired man tried to give his voice confidence, but it trembled betraying.
- Consider your punishment taken down for this day. Come back and tell me what's up with your uncle. - Dad took another drag.
Roy just dropped his fork on the plate. Out of desperation, he wanted to cut himself open, with that same fork.
On the one hand, the guy was overcome by incomparable horror, on the other - this was a great chance to meet Ross and Robert! There were renovations at the school and classes were canceled, so they hadn't seen each other for three days! That's right, he made his mind. Fuck this asshole, he's going to hang out with his friends! And he doesn't care what his parents say, he doesn't care!
Approaching Ross's house, the teenager knocked on the door. For some time, they didn't open it, but when he was about to bang on it with all his might, the door swung open and he almost fell on the shocked Robert.
- Roy! Hi! - a split second and the guy was already embraced by a boy in green jacket - You have no idea how much we missed you!
- Yes, yes, I missed you guys too, get off me! - Roy tried weakly to break free from Robert's embrace, although he himself finally wanted to hug them both after separation. But no, Roy is not a pathetic crybaby. All these manifestations of pity and tenderness are too extraordinary to him - after all, he is the leader of a gang of bullies, and his reputation must be maintained...
Robert let go of the brown-haired boy and apologized.
- Okay, where is Ross? - Roy asked.
- He is in the room, trying to wipe some red crap off the bat. He tried everything, he barely gets it off! What did he only smear it with, no idea.
The image of the bloody bat that arose in his head led him into a stupor. Strange memories began to emerge in his head. Some time later, when he had just come home, he had strange dreams, as if he saw a terrible monster, as if he was holding a bloody bat in his hands. Strange dreams, of course, but even worse things happen when you like watching horror movies at night. Even if yourself then start to tremble with fear from every rustle in the dark.
Roy shook his head to get rid of the weird feeling and went to Ross's room.
Walls were covered with posters of various rock bands, in the corner there was a single bed, and on it sat a boy, stubbornly rubbing a wooden bat with napkins.
Noticing the guest, the boy smiled.
- Oh, hey, dude! How are you here? I thought your parents punished you. - the brunette put the bat aside and threw the napkin somewhere on the floor.
- Pfft, you know, they are not a scare to me! - Roy sat down on the bed next to his friend, smiling contentedly. - Even if they punished me, I can run away! - he looked slyly at the brunette.
- Cool! - Ross didn't seem at all fazed by the fact that Roy had been gone for three days. Maybe he didn't want to embarrass the leader, or maybe he really admired him that much. In any case, what difference did it make? After all, they were together again!
- Hey, Roy.. - Robert looked into the room. He wanted to say something, but changed his mind. - Uh, anyway... here you go. - the blond handed his friend a folded and washed striped sweater.
Roy jumped up to his friend and grabbed his favorite piece of clothing.
- Finally! I thought I fucking lost it! Thanks, Robert!.. This... where did you get it from? - the brown-haired teen looked at his friend in confusion.
- Well, you gave it to me yourself... I guess. I don't remember anything after that night. My brother said I showed up all dirty, handed him your sweater and told him to wash it. Then in the morning he asked me for two hours if I had taken anything.
-Well, I don't blame him. Looking at your appearance, only a fool would not think so. - Roy grinned and put on his sweater. It smelled pleasantly, like some flowers.
-Hey! It's not my fault that I have insomnia! - Robert said in an offended tone and crossed his arms over his chest. Roy and Ross laughed a little.
-Okay, it's all really funny, but I still can't stop wondering what the hell we were doing then. I woke up that morning on a bench next to the house, with a terrible hangover. This is the minimum of- - Roy's words were interrupted by the ringing of his phone - Fucking dammit, what's now? - He pulled it out of his pants pocket. The screen showed the words "Mom". - What the hell do they want again? - the guy shouted irritably and picked up the phone - Hello?
- Reynold, quickly, run to your uncle's house! It's an emergency! - the worried woman screamed into the phone. It seemed she was hysterical.
- What do you mean?..What happened?
- Run right now! Your father and I are already there! - the phone was hung up.
- Damn you! - Roy reluctantly got out of bed and went to the exit of the room.
- What happened? - Ross asked. Robert looked worried.
- Something happened with those idiots again! They told me to go to the house on the hill immediately. Whatever, I guess I'm going...
- Let us go with you? - Robert suddenly spoke up. His friends looked at him. - We won't go close, we'll just walk you to there... - at the end his voice became quieter.
Roy thought for a few seconds and then replied:
-Let's do it. I don't care what they say. Let's get an ice cream, I'm paying! - with these words, the guy left the room. His friends followed him.
There were still barely visible, blurry bloody traces on the bat.
-What happened? - asked Roy, approaching his parents. From the very approach here, he had suspected something was wrong. The police were everywhere. They were scurrying back and forth, writing something down, talking and whispering. Carmen stood holding onto Richard and looked extremely sad. Richard, completely dejected, was looking down somewhere on the ground.
-Your uncle... he was killed! - the woman proclaimed, burying her face in her husband's neck, seeking comfort.
Killed?... How?... Impossible... this is impossible..
In the distance, a bunch of policemen were visible, crowding around something. Coming closer and not listening to the nervous cries of his parents to come back, he, as if spellbound, headed forward. As if on command, the cops parted in front of him. Some policeman was sitting very close to a deep pit in the dround, holding the doors of an old wooden chest of drawers. The rest of the chest of drawers was in the pit, in it lay the already beginning to decompose corpse of his uncle. It was swollen, in some places worms were eating it.
- He was still alive during the burial. - the voice of this policeman reached the teenager. - He tried to free himself until the last moment, but suffocated from lack of oxygen. - the cop demonstratively opened the doors of the chest of drawers. They were all covered in scratches from the inside.
- Roy, are you okay?.. - Ross suddenly appeared and put his hand on his friend's shoulder in some kind of calming gesture. Robert stood nearby, afraid to look at the corpse.
- Everything is okay, guys... Everything is great. Everything is just wonderful. I have never been so happy. - looking at the decomposing corpse, the teenager's face blossoms into a sadistic smile.