Into the Nothing (Broken Outlaw Series Book 1) (33 page)

March 15th

I bought formaldehyde today. I may have even gotten high off some lol! The previous tokens just aren’t doing it. To say I’m excited would be the understatement of the century. Now the search begins. The best part by far, if I do say so myself. Soon… very, very soon.

In the meantime, I have Benji and Russ right where I want them. They’re like my best friends. I steal to pay for the drugs myself, give them the money and keep the drugs, and they think I’m the world’s best fucking dealer. I’m something alright! So much more than the shit in this town. So much more than the bullshit the people in this town spew. Fuck them all.

I flip a few pages and begin to read again.

March 27
^th

I found her today. She’s perfect. Looks just like Mom. Everything is ready. I just need to find the right time. There’s nothing anyone can do. This is my destiny. This is what every second of this horrible life has been for. My undeniable vengeance.

I flip the page.

March 30
^th

I took her today. I kept her in an abandoned cabin in the Twain Lake woods. She struggled more than the last ones, but I stabilized her eventually. She was so damn sexy. It was hard for me to keep my hands off of her… even after death. I see her head in the jar now, and I get an erection all over again… Is that messed up journal? lol

I drop the notebook to the ground, putting both hands to my mouth in disgust. I can’t even believe what I’m reading. I don’t know how, because my stomach is turning over on itself, but I pick the notebook back up and flip a few more pages.

April 3
^rd

I feel so compelled to cause mayhem. To make people fear me, to fear my every movement. I don’t know how I got here or why, but this is my destiny. I am here to turn this fucking world upside down.

I hope beyond hope that this is just some sick form of fiction, but the memory of the newspaper article about Mandy Little and her missing head is gnawing at the back of my mind.

I reach back inside the duffel bag and grab the first thing my fingers touch. It’s a manila envelope. I open it and pour out its contents. I’m horrified as I shuffle through driver’s licenses of people I know—people I grew up with—with names I’ve read about in the paper.

My shaking hands reach back into the duffel bag once more and pull out a small cardboard box. Fearful at this point of what exactly I might find, I open it cautiously.

The cardboard box falls and I’m left with only a jar in my trembling hands. The air is ripped out of me. I want to run, but my feet are planted firmly to the ground. My muscles won’t respond to my brain’s commands. I’m forced to look at it…to come to terms with exactly what I’m looking at.

There’s a human head in the jar, ghastly and bloated. Filmy eyes protrude from it. If I hadn’t known Mandy Little my whole life, I may not be able to recognize that it’s
her
lifeless eyes staring back at me.

I lose all feeling in my hands, dropping the jar to the floor with a loud crash. Glass shoots in every direction, as does the liquid the jar contained. Mandy’s head rolls across the floor and settles with her eyes back on mine. At once, I’m petrified and revolted. It’s hard to even process a thought, let alone figure out what to do next. A stench has taken up the room that makes me nauseous. I stumble a little, my vision beginning to blur. My face is flush and tingling. I fight the urge to pass out, but it’s overwhelming.

I close my eyes and take deep breaths, willing myself to get it together. Some feeling returns to my legs and the icy chill has left my face. I open my eyes, keeping them on the wall and nowhere else, and I’m relieved to find that my vision is clear.

It’s the creak of the floor behind me that draws my attention. As soon as I turn around, a baseball bat comes barreling into my face. I can hear the bones crunch and feel the teeth loosen as it connects. Then I fall for what seems like forever before landing on the duffel bag… and on the rotting head. I can feel it squish beneath me.

I don’t black out immediately. My eyes are open, but it feels as if they’re spinning in circles—as if I’m outside of body, clinging to the ceiling and watching all of this play out. It can’t be real. This cannot be my life.

I can see just enough to identify my brother standing over me, getting ready to swing again. I can see the hunger, the pleasure and the sickness in his eyes. I can feel just what my mother felt before her life was ripped from her.

With everything in me, I scream. And I scream louder than I ever have in my entire life.

Wrongly convicted man released

St Louis Post Dispatch

Three years ago, the small town of Truman Valley in southeastern Missouri was rocked by the fatal stabbing of Teresa Watson, a wife, mother and beloved member of the community. A twenty-seven-year-old man went to prison for her murder. He signed his own confession. However, at 10:56 a.m. this morning, Xander Evans walked out of Missouri Correctional Facility a free man, his innocence found through a family torn apart.

Two months ago, Paige Watson lay bleeding on her brother’s bedroom floor, her skull fractured and three teeth knocked out. As Paige’s adopted brother, nineteen-year-old Caleb Watson, stood over her with a baseball bat to strike her once more, their father shot him twice in the back, piercing his heart and killing him instantly. Paige was taken to the hospital in serious condition while investigators tried to make sense of it all. Paige is out of the hospital now, but could not be reached for questioning.

What investigators found in the teenage killer’s closet at 413 Wipperwill Way rocked the town of Truman Valley to its core. They discovered an arm bone, an ear, and the head of Mandy Little, who was killed in late March. Three “tokens” from victims he had taken over his three-year reign. DNA evidence has confirmed the ear belongs to 36-year-old Danica Andrews from Truman Valley, whose mutilated body was discovered last July in an abandoned trailer. The arm bone was taken from victim Rachel Simmons, 48, from Wainwright. The rest of her remains have yet to be found.

As if that wasn’t enough, the young Watson documented all of his heinous actions in seven different journals. The journals depicted animal abuse at a young age, kill lists from high school, and a deteriorating mental condition. They also told, in detail, the murders he committed, including the one that Xander Evans was sent to prison for back in 2013.

The one unanswered question in the Xander Evans-Teresa Watson case was the victim’s ring finger. It had been removed from the victim but was never discovered. Today, investigators know why. Mrs. Watson’s finger bones weren’t found with the others. They were recovered from Caleb Watson’s pocket in a pouch along with his mother’s wedding ring. People that knew him say he never went anywhere without the pouch. They claim he never talked to them about it and that they never asked. DNA analysis positively confirmed that the bones belong to Teresa Watson.

H
ow the fuck am I supposed to feel?

Of course I’m happy. I’m
fucking
ecstatic. But for two months now I’ve waited on the judicial system to get their shit together and I’ve worried about Paige constantly. All the while I’ve been rehabilitating from my injuries. I’m better now and two seconds from walking out of this prison a free man, but there’s still an emptiness inside. I feel selfish when I get down about what’s transpired over the past three plus years. I know I shouldn’t take this second chance for granted, but it’s just so hard sometimes. I didn’t kill Teresa, but maybe if I hadn’t ever stopped in Truman Valley she’d still be alive. Maybe Paige would still have her family. It serves no purpose to think like that. But I still do.

I can’t presume to know what it’ll be like out there. This place changes you. It breaks you down and hardens your heart. I love Paige. I know without a doubt in my mind. But who’s to say I can even make love work out there? Shit, can she even? The things she has been through go beyond even my tortured past. Time will tell.

The burst of sun from the opening door forces me to shield my face. I’ve been out in the sun for rec time, but it never felt like this. Not even close. The feeling of warmth charges my body with excitement. For the time being at least, all the questions and doubt fades.The concrete walkway between barbed wire fences is the longest, most anticipated walk of my entire life. The chill spring air whips against my arms and I lean my head back, soaking it all up.

“Why you walking so slow, man? I’d be running the fuck out of here,” I hear a familiar voice call out. I turn and see Twitch in one of a dozen or so cages, each one with a small basketball court and an inmate. He lets the basketball bounce away and approaches the side of the cage, his hands gripping the fence. I slow my pace and smile at him. I haven’t seen Twitch in a couple months as I’ve been in rehabilitation. They keep us broken fucks in a different cell block. The goofy-ass smile he flashes is a welcome sight.

“Hey, Twitch. Good to see you, fucker!”

“Good to see you too, man.” He looks around as if about ready to tell a secret and then leans in closer to the chain link. “I’ll be seeing you again
real
soon.”

“Alright man, I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“Damn, why do you gotta make it about eyes? You trying to say something?” He pretends to be offended, but then cracks up laughing, sticking two middle fingers in the air.

“That’s fucked up, man. You can’t keep using that. It’s not fair to the rest of us.” Twitch shakes his head from side to side.

“No way. As long as I got it, I’m using it.” He picks the basketball back up and starts to dribble. Turning to me one last time he calls out, “Now, fuck off, you free bastard!”

“Hey, keep your head down in there, but don’t go sucking any dick.”

“But what if I want to?” He yells, loud enough for the whole damn prison to hear.

“I’ll see you on the other side, Twitch,” I say before starting to walk again. There’s no doubt in my mind I’ll be seeing that crafty bastard sooner rather than later. He hollers out some more nonsense as I head down the remainder of the walkway, but I just ignore him. I have an appointment in the parking lot with a beautiful woman that I just can’t miss.

I almost can’t believe it when I see her. Paige is leaning against the hood of her Chevelle, and her smile, big, authentic and beautiful, takes my breath away. There’s pain in her eyes though. So much pain.

Here she is, this girl who not two months ago was in a hospital with a severe injury, and now she’s picking my lousy ass up from prison. I’m so incredibly lucky. If three years of my life had to be served to finally have this woman in my arms again, so be it.