Chapter 11 Ethan #2
“Ethan!” She whimpers as her thighs shake before dropping her head onto my chest. Tropical fruits and rich flowers waft into my nose and I inhale the scent of her hair as it brushes over the balaclava.
My gaze finds the mirror and her reflection flickers like an old film, causing panic to quickly settle in my stomach like a brick.
I try to reach for her, instead my hands find nothing.
Effortlessly slipping through her ghost.
“Alina, don’t.. don’t go. I can’t do this life without you.
” I whisper as my bottom lip begins to tremble with fear.
She lifts her head from my chest, her icy eyes brimming with unshed tears, her face flickering every so often.
“Don’t cry. I can’t bear to see you cry.
I’m right here,” She lays her palm flat on my chest. “I’m always here. ”
“No. Take me with you.” I say, trying to grapple with the lifeline that lays dormant between us.
Alina shakes her head. “You know I can’t do that. It’s not your time yet.”
I go to speak again, to beg her to rip me from this world and take me to wherever her soul is but her reflection in the mirror flickers once more until she completely disappears and in her place, is her stuffed teddy bear with a hole in the stomach, thick globs of cum pouring out of the opening.
Gripping the teddy bear in both hands, I pry open the hole then lift the balaclava in a desperate haze and bring it to my awaiting mouth.
Curling my tongue inside the teddy, I taste the saltiness of my cum and the sweetness of Alina’s arousal coating my mouth.
I eat like a starved man who hasn’t been fed in years, thirsty for water to quench my dehydration, imagining my tongue swirling around my sister’s sensitive clit.
Shame and anger cracks me around the jaw and I rip the teddy away from my face, I throw it onto the bed and stuff my cock back inside my pants and rise from the bed.
The blood inside my veins boils to an unhealthy rate and I stride over to the mirror, then send my fist into the glass.
It cracks into shards immediately at the impact but I don’t stop, blow after blow my sister’s image fades from my mind until all I can see is myself and bloodied knuckles through the gloves.
“I fucking hate you, but fuck, if I don’t love you more.” I say through gritted teeth to the open space, hoping that Alina can hear me somewhere, then I leave the room and down the stairs towards my father.
The glow from the TV illuminates the run down living room, stale smoke clings to the walls that are covered in peeling wallpaper.
Stepping into my childhood home should bring back fond, happy memories, but those memories never come to me.
They never existed in this hellhole, it's filled with nothing but dread and darkness.
I can feel it sitting heavy on my shoulders as I grab the holdall bag from the bottom step and make my way into the living room.
Carefully I avoid the mess that covers the carpet, stepping silently over piles of rubbish and beer bottles that have found their forever home here.
Tiny ants follow in a line towards what looks to be another chunk of chicken from a previous take out meal.
The black bugs gather in a large mass around the meat, each of them biting at the soggy flesh. Feeding until there’s nothing left.
That’s exactly what this house does to you, feeds on your mind, your soul until there’s nothing left of you and when it’s belly is full, it spits you out. Leaving you to fend for yourself.
I dismiss the buffet of ants and find an empty space on the floor to place my bag before unzipping it to find the clean needle and sedative.
Gripping the clear bottle in my hand, I insert the needle into the rubber cap and pull the plunger back to fill the tube, inch by inch it rises until I’m happy with the dosage.
Removing the needle from the bottle, I put the sedative back in the bag and place the needle onto the fireplace’s mantle then slip on a fresh pair of rubber gloves. The feel of the latex against my skin settles my bubbling nerves.
My face will be the last thing my father will see. I’ll haunt him for the rest of his pathetic existence, and even then, when his soul is long gone, all he will remember is me.
I take the needle from the mantle and step over to my sleeping father who has no idea that the reaper is standing before him, completely unaware of his last moments on this earth.
His eyes move around rapidly beneath the thin skin of his eyelids like ping pong balls and saliva has begun to crust around his scabby mouth, settling into the deep wrinkles around his lips.
My fingers itch to peel his face away from his skull, to reveal the black poison that lives within him.
To watch his life flash before his eyes, but I have something much more special in store for him.
This sack of a man before me doesn’t deserve a quick death for the shit he put me through.
I want him to feel every ounce of pain that I did, I want him to beg for his life, just like I did.
I keep the needle steady in my hands and lean over my dad’s sleeping form until our faces are inches away from each other.
The smell of stale piss and sour body odour emanates from his yellowing skin and before I throw up inside of the balaclava, I rear my hand back and slap him across the face.
His fat jowls shake from the force and he grunts from the pain that’s blooming across his marred cheek.
Red blotches grow across his skin and he lifts his podgy fingers to touch the tender area, and that’s when his glassy eyes meet mine.
“Who.. the fuck are you?.” He says with a heavy dose of fear in his tone and a sinister grin spreads across my face beneath the mask. I lift my hand to my chest to feign pain.
“Don’t say you don’t remember me?” I tease, then watch his mind work on overdrive as he tries to place who I am. He probably thinks that I died in that fucking prison but he couldn’t be more wrong. I’ll be the one who decides when it’s my time to go.
“C’mon old man, use that stupid fucking brain of yours and say my name.”
His yellowing eyes widen at my words. “It.. it can’t be. You should have died years ago.” He spits out and I chuckle, then I get right in his face again, causing him to cower further into the battered chair.
“I guess the Devil didn’t want me then, did he? Now, say my fucking name. Dad..” I seethe through gritted teeth and he visibly begins to shake from the fear that’s rattling around in his fat body.
I watch his eyes widen at the last word, his bottom lip trembles before he begins to speak. “Ethan..” He mumbles and I tilt my head.
“Louder. What’s my name!” I bellow and he jumps in the chair.
“It’s.. Ethan.” He sputters louder this time but I’m still not happy.
I deserve better than a half-assed mumble.
With the needle in my hand, I press the sharp point to his jugular and he swallows harshly, causing it to nick his skin.
A small bead of blood gathers at the tiny wound before trailing down his throat.
“You can do better than that, dad. I wanna hear you say my name. Nice and clear.” I demand and he wets his crusty lips with his tongue, then I watch my name leave his rancid mouth.
“Ethan Ashcroft.”
Keeping the needle at his throat, I grab the bottom of the balaclava and lift it to reveal my face. Immediately the colour runs from my dad’s face and his eyes widen until they’re threatening to pop out of the sockets.
“Atta’ boy.” I quip. “Now you better take a good look at this face, because I can promise you it’ll be the last thing you see.”
My dad begins to speak again but I quickly silence him by plunging the needle into his neck, forcing the sedative into his bloodstream. Immediately his eyelids begin to flutter like butterfly's wings, then his eyes roll into the back of his head before he slouches into the chair.
Now the fun part begins.