Chapter 29
Going Home
Lolli-Gag
Cold muck spreads between my toes as I walk down the dark road back to where it all began.
Dressed in a white shirt and pants… Hillsboro’s uniform.
My blood tinged white hair blows in the night wind as the crickets chirp in the trees.
The cold air crawls up my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake as I shiver.
My hands shake, still holding the knife Jagger placed into my hands before leaving the institution.
I spot the trailer I grew up in, the trailer that left me riddled with these horrendous scars, both deep within my soul, but most of all, on the outside, where everyone can see and laugh at me.
I’m the girl whose mom tried to cook her alive.
I’m the girl that was dealt the cards from hell.
“Lolli, what’s the plan?” Jethro asks, and I roll my eyes.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay at Hillsboro?” I spit, and he laughs.
“I go where you go, you know this,” he says as he whistles, looking around the trailer park.
“Would you stop that whistling? We need to be quiet!” I whisper-shout, and he laughs again.
“You’re the only one talking, Lolli,” he reminds me, and once again, I roll my eyes.
Stepping up the broken wooden steps, I lift my arm to grip onto the screen door handle and open it slowly.
Metal scraping against wood echoes through the trailer park, but I don’t care at this point.
She has to know that I would come for her.
It’s been eight years since they locked me away in that place—The Hillsboro Institute for the Criminally Insane.
She put me away there, telling the authorities a false narrative to keep her ass out of jail.
I’ve bided my time. I’ve plotted her demise.
I guess this game Master D is playing is just what I needed, and tonight, I won.
Turning the knob to the steel door, it creaks as I push it open.
Stepping inside, my stomach turns at the smell of burnt rubber, cigarettes, mold, and vomit.
I take a deep breath, suddenly feeling like I am at home.
My mother lies on the couch as the glow of the TV splays across her features.
A cigarette sitting between her fingers, still lit.
My feet carry me closer, sticking to the dirt crusted carpet.
I stand right beside her, watching as her chest rises and sinks with every shallow breath she takes.
Bending down, I take the still lit cigarette and remove it from her fingers.
I giggle as she stirs but doesn’t wake up. She will in a moment.
Taking the burning butt I lightly drag it down her cheek and listen to her skin sizzle.
I apply more pressure, dragging it slowly down to her jaw line.
Her eyes snap open, but I already have the knife pressed against her throat.
I giggle again, but she doesn’t move as I continue to drag the cigarette up and down her face, reveling in the smell of her burning skin.
“Hello, Mother! Did you miss me?” I giggle again, causing her eyes to widen.
“She looks frightened of my little honey comb. Can we play with her?” Jethro asks, and I smile wide.
“Oh yes, Mother isn’t leaving here with her heart still beating.” I giggle.
“L-Logan, wh-what are you doing here?” she stammers, trying to sit up, but I dig the blade deeper into her throat, then put the cigarette out on her eye. She screams bloody murder, thrashing against me. But I dig the knife deeper into her neck, and she stills.
“I came to kill you.” I giggle, lifting the blade from her throat and sliding it down her chest. She screams as I dig the knife into her flesh. Tilting my head, I watch as the blood pools beneath my blade the further I slice down her frail body.
“P-please, Logan, don’t kill me,” she begs, and I giggle.
“Please, Logan, don’t kill me,” I mock, digging the knife deeper.
“You didn’t give a shit about all the times I begged for you not to hurt me.
Begged you to save me from those men. So, I’m all of a sudden supposed to care that you are begging for your life.
Ha.” I throw my head back, laughing hysterically.
Jethro runs his hands through my white hair, and I moan.
“Calm down, honeycomb. Let me make her scream,” he offers, and I nod, jumping up and down.
“That’s because you are crazy, Logan. I see Hillsboro didn’t cure your mental issues. Still with the Jethro shit,” she spits, and I growl.
“Fuck you, Mother! Logan is dead. Remember, you fucking killed her in that oven! Remember, MOTHER!” I snarl, bending down, gripping her hair, forcing her to look at me.
“I’m Lolli, and I want you to feel every ounce of pain you made me feel my whole life.
” I smile as the blade sinks into her old cunt, ripping her walls apart.
Blood gushes over the couch and my fingers.
Her eyes widen as her body begins to convulse.
“I was never good enough for you! I was never anything to you!” I scream, releasing her hair, then taking the blade and slamming it into her chest, over and over again.
“You never loved me. That’s why you put me in the oven after drugging me.
” I scream again. “You put the oven on 375° and walked away without a care!” I growl, straddling her bleeding body.
I lift my hands over my head, gripping the handle of the knife and pound it into her face, neck, chest, and stomach.
I just keep stabbing, slicing, twisting.
I completely lose control as blood coats my face, legs, and everything.
I scream, I giggle, I cry. But I don’t stop even when my arms become heavy and ache.
Flashes of Jagger… Vinny… Lucifer… Killian…
and Axel blind me. I still stab her lifeless corpse, because it’s not enough. It will never be enough.
After god knows how long, I pant, trying to catch my breath.
Jethro takes the knife, throwing it onto the floor.
He grips my face, pressing his sweet lips against mine, causing me to moan.
His hands roam my bloody body, finding my clit with ease.
I rock against his fingers until I cum so fucking hard.
“Hopefully we make it back in time,” I mutter before laying on the couch beside my mother.
Wrapping my arms around her, I play with her shredded skin, digging my fingers into her flesh, ripping the tendons from the muscle as my eyes get heavy.
Strong arms wrap around me and a cold kiss is placed on my cheek.
“I go where you go,” he breathes as I drift off, but gravel crunching outside has my eyes snapping open. Heavy footsteps pound against the wood followed by the door swinging open. A tall shadow darkens the doorway as it steps inside. He crouches down, then runs his fingers through my bloody hair.
“Good girl. Time to go home,” Master D praises, putting his hand out for me to take.
“Time to go home.”