Episodes of Violence Read online

  “Sorry,” Bobby said, refocusing himself. “I live a couple houses away and wanted to tell Mr. Brewmeyer that we were robbed.”

  “Robbed? Tonight?” She took a long drag on her cigarette.

  “Yeah. While we were sleeping. They even took our cell phones. It’s why I’m here, so I can use Brewmeyer’s phone to call the cops. But since you’re here, could I use yours?”

  “Cops?” the girl asked, eyebrows raised. She shook her head. “Um. I…”

  Bobby didn’t understand the girl’s hesitancy. “If I could just use your phone—”

  “They will go to your house, right? Not come here?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Okay.” She smiled, her concerned look turning to one of relief. Weird. She was clearly hiding something. Didn’t want the cops around. But it didn’t matter. All he needed to do was get her phone away from her.

  When the girl turned around and went to open the car door, Bobby pulled out his folding knife. He flipped open the blade with practiced haste and wrapped his arm around her neck, before pressing the blade to her tender throat flesh.

  Chapter Ten

  “You ain’t going to shoot me,” Stocking Head said.

  “Oh, sure I am,” Howard said. “Going to send a sweet message to all the scumbags in the world. Break into my house and you don’t leave alive.”

  “You’re not a murderer. You’re a fucking school teacher.”

  Brewmeyer’s eyebrows came together. The guy knew him, or had been watching him. This was no random break in. “Take off the stocking.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “You can take it off or I can pull it off your corpse.”

  “Guess that’s what you’re going to have to do then.” Stocking Head crossed his arms over his chest and stood tall.

  The guy either wasn’t afraid and crazy, or was putting up a good front. Howard had planned on simply blowing away the intruder when he found him. But now he was curious. Besides his desire to see the bastard beg for his life before he shot him, he now wanted to see who he was dealing with. The pleasure of knowing his enemy by staring the dirtbag in the eyes and letting him know he had won would only add to his satisfaction of ridding the world of unneeded filth. However, he could find out who the intruder was after the fact. He could shoot the guy and leave the stocking on until the cops identified the person, making his surprise genuine. No, he wanted to see the low-life loser, know who he was killing.

  The shitbag was tough, and it appeared the man wasn’t going to budge when it came to doing as he asked. That was all right. He would simply have to show the guy how serious he was by shooting him in the leg or some other non-lethal body part.

  As Brewmeyer was deciding where to put a bullet, crunching sounds came from down the hall.

  Shit, someone else was in the house.

  “Whoever’s here, I want you to know I’ve got my gun trained on your partner. Try anything and he’s a dead man.”

  Multiple footsteps approached. A whimper. Then Crystal came into view. A tall man with long hair wearing a surgical mask had a knife pressed to her throat. Her face was streaked with tears.

  “Drop the gun or the bitch dies,” Long Hair said.

  Brewmeyer recognized the voice. His mind worked. The slender build and greasy, long hair. It was Bobby Lancaster, one of his more vile students and detention regulars. The shitbag had grabbed the hooker and come in through the back door. Disgusted, he said, “Bobby, how good to see you again. You turned out exactly as I thought you would: a complete waste of human flesh. A total loser.”

  The room went still, then: “Good, then you know I’ll cut her.”

  “Please, Mister,” Crystal said, “do as he says.”

  “Yeah, right,” Howard said. “For all I know, you’re in on this with them.”

  “No, I swear I’m not.”

  He saw Bobby’s eyebrows knit together, clearly a look of confusion under the mask when the scumbag realized the girl was an innocent bystander. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t relinquishing his weapon. But now he had a new problem. A witness problem. He wouldn’t be able to kill the intruders outright. He could shoot Bobby and simply say he was protecting the girl. She’d back him up on that. Or if he could let them go, knowing one intruder was Bobby, he could easily track the loser down, and then find out who the other guy was when he tortured the long-haired freak.

  “Take off the mask, Pantyhose Man,” he said, figuring he’d try again before switching to plan B.

  “Did you hear me, asshole?” Bobby said. The prostitute squealed as Bobby’s knife-wielding arm jerked.

  “Yeah, and I’m not dropping my gun. Do what you want with her. Go ahead and add murder to breaking and entering. Until your friend here takes off his mask, none of you are going anywhere.”

  “You want to see my face?” Stocking Head asked.

  Howard recognized the voice now, not sure why it had taken him so long. He wasn’t surprised. Bobby had been Daemon’s shadow, the two always together. Daemon had been the worst of his class.

  The air seemed to thicken with tension. Things felt as if they were about to get out of hand. Control would be lost soon if he didn’t do something.

  Looking at the hooker, he felt badly for her. Truthfully, he didn’t want her to get hurt. In fact, he still planned on fucking her later on. She would understand why he hadn’t given up his weapon. Hell, if he saved her, she’d be grateful to him. Maybe even give him a discount or fuck him for free out of gratitude.

  Stocking Head pulled off his veil, the material stretching like a condom being pulled off a semi-hard penis.

  “I should have known,” he said, feigning ignorance. “The idiot twins together. Maybe the cops will let you share a cell.”

  “We ain’t going to jail, asshole,” Daemon said, grinning.

  A floorboard beneath the carpet creaked behind Howard. Remembering how he’d originally thought someone was hiding under his desk, he spun and was met with blinding pain across the side of his head.

  His finger jerked and the gun roared just before he fell into blackness.

  Chapter Eleven

  From her small space below the desk, Sage pushed out the chair in half-inch intervals as the men talked. Daemon was buying her time. She wanted nothing more than to shove the chair against the wall, spring to her feet and charge Brewmeyer with her hammer held high and ready to strike. However, she stayed calm. Bobby coming in with a hostage was brilliant and only added to the room’s din and chaos, making her movement less noticeable.

  Before Bobby called alerting them to Brewmeyer having a gun, she’d been hiding behind curtains while Daemon hid at the top of the stairs. If they heard the man on the phone with the cops, they’d attack him with savageness knowing they couldn’t afford to take their time, and then leave out the back. But hearing that the man had a firearm, Sage thought they should leave right away. She went to head out the way they came in, assuming Brewmeyer would come in through the front door, when Daemon stopped her.

  “We don’t know where he is,” he said. “Headlights are blasting the front of the house with light, but Bobby said Brewmeyer went around back. We need to hide and see what happens. Let him think no one’s here, then we jump his ass.”

  “He could be on the phone with the cops,” Sage said.

  “Nah. If that was the case he’d do it from the safety of his car, not while traipsing around in the dark with his gun out. We hide here and wait to hear from Bobby, or take care of this shit ourselves.”

  “This is so fucking hot. I’m so wet, babe.”

  “You’re my sick little slut, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  They swapped spit and then separated. Daemon hid in the hall closet across from the den while she crawled under the desk. Sitting there, she bit her bottom lip out of anger. Throwing the book through the window had been reckless. Her stupid mistake might cost them prison time or worse. If she died, so be it, but she couldn’t die at the hands of he
r enemy. Brewmeyer must have seen the book in the driveway and noticed the missing window glass. As horrible as the possible outlook could be, her level of excitement was something new and incredible. She was being born into something fresh, something better. And to think all this time she’d thought getting high and fucking was the best thing in the world.

  Finally, after all that, here she was, sneaking up behind Brewmeyer, hammer raised, when the fucking floorboard creaked beneath her. It ruined the surprise she’d wanted to give him, but went with it. Without hesitation, just as the dickhead turned around, Sage whacked the fucker’s skull. The gun went off and was loud as hell, but the bullet went wide and disappeared into the wall behind her. Blood splattered the bookcase next to Brewmeyer as the gun fell from his grip. His legs gave out and he crumbled to the floor.

  Daemon moved with panther-like speed and scooped up the weapon.

  Sage stood over her former teacher and raised her hammer to strike again, but noticed he wasn’t moving. Blood gushed from the hole on the side of the man’s head, the cream-colored carpeting turning a dark crimson. Fragments of eggshell-like bone lay beside the man. Sage marveled at the sight.

  “Damn, girl, you broke his skull open,” Daemon said. He bent next to the body and felt for a pulse. He shook his head. “Nope. He’s a goner.”

  “Oh my god,” Bobby’s hostage shrieked. “You killed him.”

  “Fuck,” Sage said and smashed her bloody hammer against the desk, breaking off a chunk of fine cherry wood. “I wanted that fucker to suffer.”

  Daemon stood and approached her. “I know, babe. But what’s done is done. You saved our asses.”

  “But the whole reason we came here was to make him suffer. Piss him the fuck off. Screw with him. Give him a beating and make him wonder who did it.” She smacked the side of her mask with a fist. “One fucking whack and he’s gone. I was ripped off.”

  “We all were,” Daemon said, nodding, his voice tender. “But fuck him. One less asshole in the world, right?”

  Sage’s chest heaved as she sucked in an angry breath. She shoved past Daemon, squatted over the corpse and began smashing its head. She screamed as she pulverized the face, quickly making Brewmeyer unidentifiable. Blood splattered her entire body as pieces of flesh and bone were flung about, sticking to the walls and ceiling. Soon, there was no head, only a stump of meat, and Sage was laughing hysterically. Bobby’s hostage screamed the entire time.

  Daemon turned around to tell the girl to shut up when she attacked Bobby by elbowing him in the stomach and smashing her heel into his right foot. Bobby was no longer holding his knife against the girl’s throat, guessing the whole crazed Sage scene had been quite the distraction. Bobby bent over and howled in pain.

  The girl sprinted to the front door and was fiddling with the lock when Daemon charged after her. He raised the gun and was about to pull the trigger when his curiosity got the best of him.

  Bobby rushed passed him, knife in hand.

  “Don’t kill her,” Daemon shouted.

  Bobby grabbed her by her blonde locks and yanked her off her feet. He dragged her as she kicked and screamed back into the den before picking her up, wrapping an arm around her neck and pressing the knife to her throat. She quieted immediately, but the tears continued.

  “Please don’t kill me,” she sobbed.

  Bobby walked her over to the gore-splattered couch and shoved her onto it.

  Sage was standing now, her entire frontal region from face to feet covered in Brewmeyer’s remains. Bits of flesh dangled from her mask, her hammer slick with blood. The carpet around her was a pool of dark, glistening crimson.

  “You’re a sick puppy,” Bobby said.

  “I feel better now,” Sage said and stepped past the headless corpse, the carpeting squishing in marsh-like fashion. She stood before the girl. “Who the fuck are you?”

  The girl’s mouth hung open. She was shaking. She turned her head and vomited.

  “Disgusting,” Sage said.

  Daemon told the young woman to look at him.

  “I don’t want to. I don’t want to remember your face.”

  Daemon pressed the barrel of his gun against the girl’s temple. “Look. At. Me.”

  Slowly, she turned her head and looked into his eyes. He withdrew the piece from her head and stepped back.

  “I asked you a question,” Sage said.

  “Yeah, the lady asked you who you are,” Daemon said.

  “I’m nobody,” the girl replied. “Just a hooker. I’ve been arrested multiple times for prostitution, drug possession, shoplifting, and assault and battery. Let me go.” She held up a hand as if swearing on the Bible. “I won’t say a thing to anyone.”

  “Get the fuck out of here,” Sage said, swatting her thigh. “Looks like ol’ Brewmeyer had a few skeletons in his closet. Self righteous prick.”

  “You don’t look like a hooker,” Daemon said.

  “I am. I swear. I work down in Binghamton. I’ve got my own problems and nothing to do with this. I don’t like cops and don’t need them in my life. My name’s Crystal by the way.”

  “Wow,” Sage said. “So you’re, like, one of us?”

  “Yeah. Exactly. I’m like you all.” The girl smiled. It looked forced.

  Sage looked at Daemon, then at Crystal. “And you promise not to tell on us? Or tell anyone about this whole mess?”

  “She saw my and Daemon’s face,” Bobby said, now standing in the den’s entranceway.

  Sage removed her hockey mask, her face splashed with blood. “Now she saw mine too. Happy, ya big baby?”

  “I don’t care what you look like,” Crystal said. “Even if I wanted to remember, I’m terrible with faces. Couldn’t pick you out of a lineup if I wanted to. But like I said: I won’t say a thing to anyone.”

  Sage put her hockey mask back on. “Hhhhmmmmm. What do you think we should do, fellas?”

  “What’s your last name?” Daemon asked Crystal.

  “Potrovich. I have I.D. if you want to see it.”

  “Nah, we trust you. You’re like us, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And your address?”

  Crystal gave it.

  “You’re far from home, Crystal.”

  “Yeah, I was visiting my sick grandmother. Sounds like bullshit, but it’s true. She goes to sleep early so I figured I’d go to the local watering hole and get a few drinks, then thought I might as well make some money. She pointed at the headless corpse. He was taking me home. Paid me already too, so I’m good.”

  “I would never sell my pussy,” Sage said. “Let some strange, nasty fat fuck stick his dick in me? My mouth, cunt and ass? No way. Especially the ass, that’s for love only. I guess props to you, girl, even though you’re a disgusting whore.”

  “What the hell are we doing?” Bobby asked. “We can’t stay here all night.”

  “True,” Daemon said. “We need to finish up and move out.”

  “So, do we trust her and let her go?” Sage asked looking at Daemon as she twirled the hammer in her hand.

  “I think we can trust her,” Daemon said. “She’s like us after all, a misfit.” He motioned for her to leave.

  Sage stepped aside, and when Crystal didn’t move, she said, “Well, get the fuck out of here before we change our minds.”

  The prostitute rose to her feet, legs shaky. Her eyes darted from Daemon to Sage, and then to Bobby who was standing at the room’s entrance. Head down, she stepped past Daemon, hesitated, and then proceeded forward where she stopped in front of Bobby who was blocking her way.

  “Excuse me,” she said, keeping her head down.

  “Can’t let you leave,” Bobby said. His arms were at his sides, right hand gripping his knife.

  Crystal looked up. “They said I could leave.”

  “This isn’t a democracy,” Bobby said.

  “Looks like we have a problem,” Sage said.

  “How are we going to solve it?’ Daemon asked. He’d be
en waiting for this. Letting the girl go was a test for Bobby. He needed to make sure the man was with them.

  “How about she blows Bobby as payment to pass?” Sage suggested. “I love to watch live porn, even if it is Bobby’s little dick.”

  “Fuck you,” Bobby said coldly.

  “What do you say, Bobby?” Daemon asked.

  Bobby’s shoulders rose and fell with the breath he took. Crystal’s hair wavered when he exhaled. “This wasn’t planned.” He took a small step back, then his knife hand flashed across her neck. She staggered backward as blood spurted from the five-inch slit running across her throat. Bobby was streaked with crimson. He didn’t move. Crystal turned around and looked at Daemon with accusatory eyes. A look that said, You said I could leave.

  Daemon didn’t like it and whacked her across her face with the gun, crushing her nose. She went down, twirling like a top, and crashed to the floor. He kicked her in the mouth and dislocated her jaw, the flesh drooping like a loose hanging rubber band.

  Sage howled and jumped in, landing in a squatting position over the girl. Her hammer hit Crystal’s broken nose square and sank into her skull. The hooker’s body trembled for a moment, and then went still. Lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling.

  “I had to get in on that,” Sage said. “Make it a sweet group kill.”

  “She would’ve died from the cut I gave her,” Bobby said.

  “Probably,” Daemon said. “But my blow actually killed her.”

  “Bullshit,” Sage said. “She was clearly alive and moving until I caved in her face.”

  “Fuck it, she’s dead,” Daemon said. “No worries now.”

  Not wanting the blade tarnished, Bobby finished wiping it off, then stuffed it into its sheath on his belt and stepped up to Daemon. “What the hell was that about? Were you really going to let her go if I didn’t stop her?”

  “Of course not. I just wanted her to feel like she was going to get away. Have some fun with her. By the way, was there anyone else in the car?”