Page 63 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

Shhk...

Shhk...

Every pass echoed through the room. The bulb flickered once more. Silence settled back in. Except for the struggling behind me. Then came a sharp intake of breath from somewhere in the darkness. The room held its breath with it. Outside, the rain tapped softly against the windows, almost politely, as though the world beyond had no idea what secrets this place was keeping. I turned around to look at the body occupying the chair.

“You know… You breathe very disgustingly. It’s very irritating.”

Her breath hitched then she started struggling more, no point in doing that dumbass. I rolled my eyes and put the knife down.

“Help! Someone help me!”

I shake my head every fucking time… Why do people think that it's going to work? They do it every single time… Hilarious really.

“Who are you, let me go this instant. My husband is looking for me. Let. Me. Go!”

She continues to struggle… Honestly her voice is so irritating I just want to rip it out of her neck. Walking forward I ripped the bag off her head, letting her eyes adjust to her surroundings and walked back to the table. Hmm what instrument to use first.

“Where am I? YOU let me go immediately. I will keep quiet. What do you want? Money. I can write you a check this instant. Just let me go.” She screams and struggles further.

Honestly, why did I let her keep her voice… The knife, no not yet. The cutters, too painless. Hmm the hammer, yes.

I turn around and walk forward, her eyes sharpening on me. You could hear the gasp as I stopped in front of her and crouched down.

“Joey?” She whispered.

No shit Sherlock.

“Hello Miss Eleanor Hayes.” I grinned as confusion and fear seeped into her face.

“Joey, what are you doing? LET ME GO THIS INSTANT YOUNG LADY.!”

I laugh honestly because she is so stupid.

“No.” I stand up and turn around.

Walking away I start grabbing the table.

“Do you want to hear a story, Eleanor? Can I call you Eleanor.”

Not waiting for her to answer I continue.

“I’m going to call you Eleanor. So, this story begins with a woman walking in the park seeing little girls playing around on the swings while their mother is chatting up a man that is not her husband. As the girls are playing the one girl falls and as a good person the woman walks over to help while her mother is still too focused on the man. So, the woman walks towards the little girls and bends down to help the girl up, but when she reaches forward the little girl flinches. No, the woman thinks maybe stranger danger, as the mother should have taught them but no. The woman looks closely and starts seeing makeup, coverage foundation, and concealer on the little girl's face. Now why would little girls wear makeup so young? Then the woman started looking closer and saw the bruises under the makeup. The bruises continue to go on from their tiny little throat and arms.”

I bring the table back and walk back to get the rope and hammer.

“Do you know why I am telling you this story Eleanor?”

I wait for an answer and look her straight in the eyes, her face white as a sheet as she realises what I am talking about.

I take her hands and put them on the table binding them to it.

“So, you see, Eleanor. No, I will not let you go because I don’t like mothers who hurt their children. I do not fucking like mothers who victimize their children. I do not fucking like little girls with bruises on their bodies! And I do not fucking like mother using their hands as weapons instead of for comfort. You’re a mother why couldn’t you fucking act like it. But don’t you worry I’ll make sure they are taken care of.”

I looked at her as I grabbed the hammer making sure her hands were straightened out lifting the hammer. I came down the sound making a sickening thunk as it hit flesh and bones.

The screams ricocheted around the room as I did it again.

And again.