9 Momma dearest
I roared up the drive not giving a fuck that it was 5am.
It was gently becoming light, the finger-like rays of the sun peeling back the night ready for a new day.
I exited the car, leaving the door hanging open, the annoying beep of the door chime sounding through the air.
I walked feeling drunk on killing, enjoying the texture of blood, guts and bone shards that coated my face and clothes.
My eyes were bright against my mask of viscera, and I proceeded light footed into the house and upstairs into my mom’s bedroom.
There, sleeping peacefully in her oval designer bed was mom, wearing a black slip and pink satin sleep mask, tucked in comfortably by crisp Egyptian cotton sheets.
Youri lay away from her, sleeping on his stomach, his leg and naked ass cheek poking out from under the blankets.
“Mom!” I whispered viciously, and when she didn’t stir, I tugged on her wrist, “Mom!” I said again, closer to her ear this time. She lifted up her sleep mask and opened her eyes and almost screamed when she saw me in the state I was in.
“Shush!” I said annoyed, as I clamped my hand over her mouth, dragging her into the hallway. I left Bess to incapacitate Youri.
“What happened?!” my mom hissed.
“Not here,” I pleaded, turning on the waterworks, “let’s go the yoga room where we won’t be disturbed.” Obediently, mom followed me and once we were safely out of earshot of anyone in the house my mom went off.
“Whose blood is that?” she questioned.
“Oh it was terrible mom,” I blubbered, hearing the weasel laughing coldly in my inner ear, “I only just got out of the car before it went over the cliff. There was something wrong with the brakes and I lost control trying to stop.”
Damn Caspian! This performance has Golden Globe written all over it! The weasel laughed.
I inwardly smiled.
“Jesus!” Mom said, “do you need to go to hospital?” I shook my head.
“The cuts are superficial.”
“Well you’re home safe. Why don’t you get a shower and go to bed. I’ll make you some tea and give you a Valium. I knew I shouldn’t have let the car salesman talk me into a Lamborghini.”
My face changed, the soul of the weasel infecting my features, and I began to sing .
Flexible and fighting fit, your body’s like elastic. Tied up, beaten, smashed to bits. Pop goes the weasel!
“You need to pay for what you’ve done Mom,” I said, grabbing my phone out of my pocket as it dinged. My fingers left streaks of blood all over the screen, “oh look! Five million for the sale of daddy’s network! Sawyer told me what you did.”
All of a sudden my mother looked sheepish. “I’m sorry OK! I just wanted a bigger platform for my channel!”
“But Dad gave you everything!!” I snarled.
“That’s the point! I want something that’s mine, not a handout, something that’s mine alone!”
“Fuck’s sake mom don’t get all righteous on me now! I call bullshit!”
“If I have to pay for being ambitious, then so be it!” she replied, her mouth set in a determined line. I began to laugh until I spluttered, the weasel goading me on.
“You think that this is about the company?! You are fucking deluded and a cunt for forgetting about what you did to Savannah!”
“Fucking this again?! Why are you terrorizing me about that slut?!!” My nostrils flared and I grabbed her throat, lifting her off of the ground, the weasel’s raw strength coursing through my veins.
My mom’s eyes looked scared as she stared into my manic face, not recognizing who she was looking at.
I squeezed, her face turning purple, then I let go and dropped her like a discarded plaything.
She was a bit out of it, so I dragged her over to a yoga mat and rolled her up in it like a bimbo burrito, securing her with a skipping rope that I took from a rack on the wall.
“Caspian! What are you doing?” she mumbled, her eyes flickering.
“Avenging someone who you tortured. Someone who thought of you as a friend. Someone whom you betrayed! How fitting that your own child will be the one to deal the death blow!!” Mom began to whimper.
“Please! Let me go! This has nothing to do with you! I never even wanted to hurt Savannah, just fuck her up a little and teach her a lesson, but it all got out of hand!”
“Did it Taylor? Spitting on me and doing nothing whilst they all raped me? How could you do that? As not only my friend, but as a woman seeing another woman being abused. You’re a monster!” We both turned to see Bess, covered in blood, but when she spoke, it was with Savannah’s voice.
“Dear God! Did you drug me?” my mom croaked.
“It’s me Taylor, and I’ve been planning my revenge for years, knowing that my way in would be through your child. The innocent killing the guilty.”
“That’s it! I’ve had a mental breakdown!
Caspian call Dr. Phelps!” Mom shrieked as she wriggled like a silicone-filled worm, trying to escape.
Wanting this to finally be over, I picked up a dumbbell and brought it down on my mom’s chest. There was a loud crack and a gushing sound, then my mom vomited blood.
I hit her again, this time in the stomach, Bess looking on, Savannah seeing through her eyes, emotionless.
Her stomach contents joined the blood, making her cough and wheeze.
There was something seriously gross about edamame beans mixed with thick blood.
The weasel was becoming impatient. He wanted to come out.
“Just for a minute,” I said, as I closed my eyes and let him control my body.
“Hey mommy!” he said, as he laid blows on her left and right, each once making either a cracking or a sloppy noise, but all causing wails of pain and the ejection of blood, mucus, spit and stomach contents.
Mom was becoming quieter, and the weasel went to lay a parting blow on her skull and, when his arms were in mid-air ready to strike, I stopped him.
“Aw your boy won’t let me finish you off.
He says he has something bigger planned for you!
” My mom’s eyes looked distant, and her head twitched.
I dragged her up and slung her over my shoulder, pulling the weasel back into my inner mind.
Bess looked forlorn and began to cry like a little girl, following me down to the kitchen.
It was approaching 6.15am. The staff would be up soon.
I propped mom up against the wall next to the oven, then I picked up Bess and cuddled her.
“I’m afraid!” she whispered, “I felt Savannah’s rage and pain. I’m scared of what she is going to do to us.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t let her hurt you,” I promised, “now, what did you do with Youri?” Bess dried her tears and giggled.
“He’s tied to the tennis net!”
“How did you get him down there?!” I said in awe.
“Got him to chase me. I said if he didn’t the one he loved would die!”
I followed Bess and felt a little sad that pretty soon she may no longer be in my life, when for the majority of it, she was the only one that had been there for me. I wasn’t quite sure how I’d manage on my own.
We got to the tennis courts and Youri was whimpering like a baby, secured tightly with cable ties to the tennis net.
“Tell me he’s OK!” he wailed.
“Who?!” I asked, non plussed.
“Florian!” Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place.
Youri’s hair free body from waxing sessions and electrolysis at the spa.
Innocently walking into the kitchen seeing him and Florian chattering in hushed voices and his need to have his own room where he would spend some nights rather than sleeping with my mom.
I’d thought nothing of it, but now it all made perfect sense. Youri was gay .
“My mom, the stupid bitch!” I laughed, “so when were you gonna tell her?”
“Not for a while,” Youri sniffled, “after she’d signed a prenup so I’d get a lump sum, then Florian and I could start again back in France,” he began to look misty eyed, “Florian was going to open a bistro and I’d be a waiter and we’d live a simple, but comfortable life, away from all this shit.”
“I admire your tenacity,” I admitted, “hell you’ve kept up this pretense for years, and my mom isn’t the easiest of people to get along with.” Youri laughed and snorted.
“I fucking hate her! She’s gotta be the most self-centered, emotionless bitch I’ve ever met. But I always had the end game in my sights.”
“I respect you,” I said, feeling sad about what I had to do because I actually saw Youri in a different light, “but the weasel and I agree that there are to be no loose ends.” Bess bit Youri’s ankles viciously. He shrieked.
“I-I thought I was seeing things! But-but that doll really is moving!”
I grinned looking like a wild animal and Bess, the weasel and I began to sing.
A trophy fuck, you don’t belong, your world has gone to pieces. You will drown by your excess. Pop goes the weasel!
Youri pissed his pants, scared shitless as Bess turned on the tennis ball machine.
The balls hit Youri in the face, chest and legs, over and over.
We heard him grunt, groan and plead to be set free.
But we stood and watched in avid curiosity as his skin began to turn red then purple as he was pummeled over and over.
One ball slammed him in the nose, causing it to bleed.
He spluttered and coughed, snot and saliva dribbling down his chin.
“Let me go Caspian! Please! Just let Florian and I go. We won’t ever come back, and we won’t tell anyone!
” But I never let him go, I just laughed as a ball whacked him in the mouth and knocked out his front teeth, and then when he got hit in the eye, I practically keeled over with glee.
When he began to look like a chunk of tenderized meat, we switched the machine off.
He hung limp, like a fly trapped in a web. He had passed out.
Let me play Caspian! I have a great idea!
I let the weasel into the driving seat. He unclipped the tennis net and rolled Youri up in it.
I swore the weasel had a thing for fucking burritos!
Then he dragged the gurgling body to the pool, striding into the pool shed and coming out with bottles of chlorine.
He did so several times until we had about ten big bottles lined up against the side of the pool.
Then he poured it all in. The smell was fierce.
“What are you doing?! Stop!” mumbled Youri from the confines of the net.
The weasel hoisted Youri over his shoulder like he weighed no more than a feather and launched him in.
His screams were ear splitting as he wriggled about, trapped in the net, drowning and his skin burning in chlorine.
The water looked luminous, and Youri’s blood spread across it like a macabre oil slick.
“What’s say we wrap this up and blow this joint?” the weasel said, picking up Bess.
“Can we go for ice cream after?” she said, her voice all innocent and hopeful.
“Course! I’m having a chocolate sundae!”
We went back into the kitchen where a startled Florian was trying to untie my mom. He blanched when he saw me, a picture of death and retribution.
“Step away Florian,” I said, the weasel allowing me to complete the final act.
He began to cry. Man, I was sick of adults being so fucking weak!
At least face death with bravery! They were an embarrassment to the human race.
My mom was saying something indecipherable, fully in shock.
I went to the oven and turned it on opening the door and also switched on all the gas rings.
Then I put Florian's mini propane torch that he used for his creme brulees into the microwave, set it to five minutes and pressed start. Florian scrambled to escape, but Bess tripped him up and he hit his head on the counter, blood splattering, then more twitching and gurgling. I got mom’s lighter and cigarettes off the side of the kitchen counter and I made my way to the back door, lighting a cigarette and placing it in the ash tray I picked up and putting it on the floor, scrambling out of there.
Just as we got outside, the gas hit the lit cigarette and BOOM!
The microwave also dinged and exploded, sending Bess and I into the air where we landed dazed on our asses on the lawn.
The kitchen was ablaze, and I sat and watched feeling accomplished, as the fire tore through the mansion I once called home.
Some of the staff dashed out of the house, coughing and choking on fumes, but most had either got trapped, or passed out from smoke inhalation.
I heard one of them call the fire department.
Too in shock, they scurried up the drive, not even noticing Bess and me.
I felt completely wiped out, so I lay back on the grass.
I shut my eyes and felt Bess snuggling into me.
“It’s over Caspian,” she whispered, and I pulled her closer, kissing her forehead. I felt myself drifting, feeling limp, the distant sound of the sirens lulling me into unconsciousness .