House of Halloween Horror

1. Jason

One

Jason

Halloween is built on chaos and rebellion, when misfits can run wild. Tonight is for us.

Energy buzzes beneath my skin as I get ready for the best night in Grimwood.

I bang my head to metal music, walls shaking from the vibrations reverberating through the freestanding speakers.

A walnut cabinet doubles as my bedside table, and a lava lamp bubbles away on top.

I lace up my scuffed black combat boots, a lit cigarette dangling precariously between my lips.

In preparation for the greatest drum and guitar riff known to man, I straighten, fingers poised to play air guitar. But instead of jamming out, I’m interrupted by my bedroom door slamming open.

My back stiffens instantly, excitement replaced by coiling tension. My heartbeat thuds in time to the music, angry and fast. Labored wheezing fills the room, the intruder sounding like he’s about to pass out. I roll my eyes, pretending that my pulse hasn’t lurched into my throat.

I already know who it is.

Jerry.

“For fuck’s sake,” I mumble around my cigarette. I take one last puff before stubbing it out in the amber, glass ashtray beside me.

Jerry storms in, followed by his new wife, Deborah. She’s nice enough, but Jerry doesn’t deserve her at all, even if she’s only with him for the money. My dear father is an asshole who treats other people like shit, and he deserves to die alone.

I hate him.

Jerry yanks the power cord from the stereo, causing the music to stop abruptly.

My nose crinkles in irritation, but I bite my tongue.

I watch him step on magazines as he lumbers across the room, my gaze narrowed and jaw tight.

There’s never a good reason for Jerry to appear.

My muscles tense up, ready to defend myself, and I raise my chin defiantly as I match his stare.

“How many times have I told you, boy, about your music?” Strained from climbing the stairs, his red, sweat-drenched face twists into a scowl, eyes bulging as a vein in his forehead throbs.

My room in the attic is too far from his armchair, so the only reason he makes the trek is to shout at me or use me as a punching bag after a few drinks.

Rolling my eyes, I take a deep breath to keep myself from doing anything stupid because I don’t want him ruining my night. “Chill! It’s metal, Pops.” It’s meant to be played loudly.

His eyes narrow as the tension between us intensifies. One wrong move and everything will explode.

Suddenly, his wife, my new stepmom, pops out from behind his large frame.

“Hi, Jason.”

Debbie’s manicured hand wraps around his arm as if she’d be able to hold him back. She doesn’t know yet that he would turn on her and “teach her a lesson” just like he does to me. He’s an abusive piece of shit.

And one day I’ll kill him for it.

“Hey, Debbie.” I keep my voice steady while I pick at where the black polish is chipping away from my short nails.

Jerry’s nostrils flare like he’s scenting the air for my fear, but I’m not scared of him. Not anymore. “So, what do you want?” I force out, my gaze unyielding. Jerry’s right eye twitches in response to the attitude in my tone, and I’m surprised when he doesn’t comment on it.

“You need to take your little sister with you tonight. Daisy wants to go to the haunted house, but Debbie doesn’t want her to go alone.”

Fuck. No.

The plans I’ve made aren’t suitable for someone like her. She’ll likely snitch on me, and I’d get beaten within an inch of my life.

There are things Jerry tolerates. Drinking, smoking, and an attitude that shows his son isn’t a complete pushover. But drugs? He’d likely murder me himself.

But Nicky, my best friend, said he has a new concoction to test, and I’m not going to let Jerry or some brat named Daisy ruin my fun.

I think about how she runs around the house in nothing but a bra and little panties, showing off the soft curve of her ass.

And the way she looks at me with hungry eyes.

If she were anyone else, if she could be a simple, anonymous fuck, I would impale her pretty pussy on my cock and be done with it.

But she isn’t. Instead, Daisy is a problem. Daisy is trouble.

Her nails are claws that try to sink themselves into me. Danger lurks behind her sultry smirk, and I know if I give myself to her, even for one night, I’ll never be the same. Because Daisy won’t ever let me go.

I will not let my stepsister destroy me, which is why I must stay away at all costs.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, annoyance flaring, and exhale loudly. My fingers itch for another cigarette, stress rising at the thought of having to be near her. I’ve been waiting for this night all year, and now my stepsister has the power to ruin my plans.

My mouth acts before I have the chance to think about what I’m saying.

“Firstly, she’s not even my fucking sister—”

Crack.

I don’t see Jerry’s fist until it’s striking me in the eye.

“Fuck,” I grunt out. Debbie gasps. I cover my face, groaning from the impact. My eye throbs, and I know it’s going to be a shiner by morning. Even with punching down, Jerry got me good. He’s had years of practice, after all.

Bastard. Cocksucker. Motherfucker.

“Don’t you dare say shit like that! You will not disrespect me. I gave you an order, and you will follow it. Understand?” He steps further into my space, spit spraying from his mouth while the vein on the side of his neck hammers furiously.

My eyes lower. I must obey, or Jerry will get worse. Much worse.

“Yes, Sir.”

He huffs like an angry animal but takes a step back. Something loosens in my shoulders knowing the immediate threat is gone, but I’m not truly safe until he leaves.

This is all Daisy’s fault. I hate her.

My mood sours further with thoughts of my evil stepsister and needing to placate my father, my back bent unwillingly into submission. My heated glare follows Jerry as he leaves my room.

Once they’re on the stairs and I’m safely out of sight, I flip Jerry off, the metal rings on each of my fingers clanging together.

“Cunt,” I hiss with shaky breath. The last thing I need is Jerry hearing me. I get to my feet, kicking the nearest of the music magazines strewn on the floor and watching it fly across the room.

My hands scrub through my black hair, and I tilt my head up, staring at the slanted ceiling.

“Fuuuck,” I groan. I can’t believe this is happening. I don’t want to skip Halloween, but I won’t disobey my dad and risk another beating. So, I have no choice. We’ll go to Nicky’s house for drinks and then out on the town. Together.

This is bad. This is everything I’ve been trying to avoid.

The thought of her presses into my mind like a disease.

But I shove it aside and walk around a stack of records to get to my dresser.

Picking up my eyeliner, I press it harder than I should, the line dark and uneven, then smear it with my finger until it blurs into something messier.

A minute ago, I couldn’t breathe. Yet when I meet my gaze in the mirror, chaos staring back, my lips fall into a smirk.

My shoulders straighten, something inside me clicking back into place.

The neighborhood biddies used to say I worship the devil because I prefer to wear dark clothing. They went silent the first time they saw the split in my tongue that I got one night in a shady basement. That's probably for the best, because little do they know, I do.

The upside-down cross hanging below my collarbone catches my eye, and I adjust it to sit neatly with my other chains.

I throw on the black leather jacket left on my unmade bed to complete the look.

Beneath it, my band tee shows the rough, jagged path of my pocketknife.

I’d sliced the bottom half off, and now the frayed hem rests a few inches above my studded belt, revealing a strip of my stomach.

I’m pleased to see my shaggy hair has grown long enough to reach my shoulders. Hell yeah.

My split tongue flicks out and I shift to the side, checking out my ass in my ripped denim jeans.

If I’m not drunk by the end of the night, getting laid will be my main goal.

Whether it’s a guy or a girl doesn’t matter.

I’m not picky. And if they want to be the dominant one for the night…

Well, I’m more than happy to switch. Either way, my cock is going to get blown, and my next meal will be a nice, juicy ass.

It’s time to rock and roll.

I don’t bother to be quiet. I stomp down the stairs, chains clashing against each other.

My stepsister keeps her room shut, but I hear her crappy, girly, pop music.

The sound crawls under my skin. Fuck, everything about her is annoying.

I bang the toecap of my boot against her door.

Once. Twice. Hard enough to make it shake, and I glare at the wood like it owes me something.

“Hurry up, Daisy, or I’m fucking leaving without you.

Five minutes!” The words leave a sour taste in my mouth as my lips curl around them.

But at least I was loud enough for Jerry to hear.

Now he can’t say I didn’t try. I roll my eyes before turning around to make my way down the hallway and out of the house.

I don’t bother saying goodbye to Jerry or Debbie. They don’t really care about me unless they need something, which is fine. I don’t need them either.

The door slams behind me. “Don’t slam the goddamn door!” Jerry shouts while I walk down the path.

“Fuck off, Jerry,” I mutter under my breath before I curse again. “Fuck.” My hands dig frantically through my pockets, and I sigh in relief when I hit the familiar box. Thank God. At least I won’t have to go all the way back in.

I pull it out before sliding a smoke between my lips and shoving the rest of my stash back into my pocket.

I pull a lighter out next, thumb striking against the metal as I light up.

I take a drag, and savor the burn. The tightness in my chest loosens, my shoulders following as my breathing steadies.

While I wait for Daisy, I walk around the side of the house to lean against the bricks, left foot pressed against the wall.

The sun has nearly set, and I can hear the excited chatter of younger kids trick-or-treating in the distance.

Even wearing my jacket, my skin pebbles in the cool night air.

I blow a puff of smoke out in rings and nod to myself before grinning.

The electricity in the air tells me it’s going to be a good fucking night.

I can’t wait to go crazy, to do something that I’m not meant to, all with my best friend.

These are the times that make life worth living.

The sudden sound of footsteps disrupts the night, and my stomach drops as it grows louder. It’s her. I flick the butt of my cigarette onto the concrete and crush it under my boot, harder than I need to.

“About time,” I grumble, then look over at my sister. I cover the way my breath hitches by sighing loudly. “What the fuck are you wearing?”