Mama's Boy and Other Dark Tales (27 page)

"I suggested that screaming was a no-no here on the street. ‘Let's save it until later tonight, my love,’ I said.

"The mention of her mother waiting at my house seemed to calm her down quite a bit, but the little vixen still struggled in my grip. At least she stopped screaming. I loved the feeling of her sweaty body pressing against mine as I wrestled her into the van. To be sure she was comfortable on the ride home, I had a pile of blankets for her to sit on in the back. I also looped some ropes through the metal frame inside the van, just to make sure she'd feel secure. She moaned and struggled as I tightened the ropes around her wrists. I wanted to take her right there in the van while she scratched and bit me, but Mama had insisted that I marry a virgin. I knew Victoria wanted me, too, but she had to wait.

"Lifting her wrists above her head, I tied them to the frame of the van and serenaded her with one of her favorite tunes—well, at least according to Wendy. ‘
And when at last I find you, your song will fill the air ...
'

She glanced up at me with tears streaming down her face. ‘Oh darlin', I'm so glad you like the song,’ I said. ‘Can't beat the Beatles.’ I laughed at my joke.

"'Where are you taking me?’ she asked, whimpering. I pulled out my handkerchief and wiped her tears. “'I'm takin’ you home, darlin'.'

"She began to sob. I was touched, and my own eyes welled with tears. I'd waited so long for this night.

"I was feeling no pain, but just to be sure, I took two more pills for the trip back to the estate. The traffic was light, and the few cars on the road just seemed to part as I drove straight up the dotted yellow line in the center of the road. Friendly folks beeped their horns as we passed.

"While I was nudging the bumper of a Ford Pinto, Victoria got very quiet. I thought she might have been in awe of my fine driving, but glancing in the mirror I noticed she was wrestling with the ropes. ‘Now Victoria, you must be patient, darlin'. I know you're eager, but we have to wait until Mama gives her approval.'

"I pulled the van over to the side of the road and climbed into the back and tightened the ropes. Victoria was sweaty and flushed and she looked so delicious I could hardly restrain myself from giving in to her desires. I pressed my mouth to hers and slipped my hand down her shirt, pinching her erect nipple. She squealed, and as her lips opened, I shoved my tongue deep into her mouth. She bit me. This time it hurt. I drew back and slapped her hard across the face. Her lip began to bleed.

"'I guess you need to learn some manners, Victoria.’ I climbed back up front and dug under the seat for my buck knife. I unsheathed it in front of her, the blade glinting in the dim light of the cabin. Using the smooth edge of the knife, I scraped the trailing blood from her mouth, then smeared it down her throat and between her breasts.

"'You've been a bad girl, Victoria. I wish I had more time to teach you a proper lesson, but we'll save that for later.’ I shoved my tongue in her mouth again. She responded with a deep moan but this time she didn't bite—a quick learner. ‘Mmm ... Good girl,’ I said, licking my lips. ‘I wish we could play more, but we have a big night ahead of us. Don't want to keep our mamas waiting.’ Her tears started again, but she was quiet.

"Checking her ropes one last time, I kissed her forehead and hopped back into the driver's seat. We hit the Skippack Turnpike in no time and hurried on toward the estate. Turning past the entry gate, we bumped along the rutted road until we arrived at the mansion. I'd managed to tidy up the front garden to make it respectable before Victoria's arrival, and I was relieved to see that the graffiti had been cleaned off the front door.

"Buck knife in hand, I climbed in the back of the van and cut my bride loose, but I left her wrists tied to help her stay calm. I lifted her into my arms and kissed her tenderly on her lips, careful not to disturb the cut on her mouth. She didn't respond, but I realized she was nervous. And besides, I prided myself on how to make a woman respond when the time came. If I was anything, it was romantic.

"The moon was shining bright as I carried Victoria to the porch steps. I paused. ‘Look, my love, a full moon just for you on our special night.’ I gazed up at the night sky and looked back down at my bride, when she smashed her clasped fists into my nose. I heard the crack inside my head and nearly passed out. I dropped Victoria in a heap, and before I could recover she was up and running for the van. This one liked to play rough. That was fine in the bedroom, but now was not the time for games.

"She must have thought I was stupid enough to leave the keys in the van, but holding my bleeding nose, I waited until she reached the door. Bleep. Bleep. I clicked the automatic door lock. She looked around like a caged animal. She started down the driveway, but the pulsing pain in my nose and the blood all over my new white T-shirt made me cranky, so I chased her down, grabbing her by the hair in mid stride. Yanking hard, she fell back against me, squealing in pain.

"'Serves you right, bitch! Now, stop fucking around.’ I jabbed my buck knife into her ribs and guided her back to the house. She gasped and stopped struggling. ‘Look at you, you're a fucking mess! Now I'm going to have to clean you up before you meet Mama.’ She cried as I forced her up the staircase, my blade pressed against her ribcage.

"I was saving a surprise for later, but you've ruined it. We'll just have to use it now.” I opened the door to the bathroom. It was filled with flickering candles and the bathtub was steaming; pink rose petals floated on the surface. Granted, the tiles were still grimy and the tub was brown with rust stains, but it still looked nice in the candlelight. “'Take your clothes off!’ Her eyes looked dazed and she staggered.

"'Now!’ I said. She dropped down on the edge of the tub looking limp, so I took matters into my own hands. ‘Stand up!’ I ordered. She complied. I unbuttoned her pants, slid the zipper down, and let them fall to the floor. I couldn't help my arousal at the sight of her thin panties and her long slender legs. I used my buck knife to slit the buttons off her blouse, enjoying each pop of the thread. I slipped her blouse off her shoulders, uncovering firm white breasts in a skimpy bra. I was standing so close I could smell her sweat.

"With the tip of my tongue I tasted her neck, and then pressed myself against her. Slipping my hands around her waist, I felt something sticky. I turned her around like a rag doll, and saw the bleeding wound in her side.

"'You stupid bitch! Look what you made me do to you!'

"I was beginning to feel anxious and out of control. I must have stuck her too hard with my buck knife when she tried to escape. She'd lost a lot of blood, and now I'd have to waste time patching her up. When I poked my finger in the wound to see how deep it was, she crumpled in my arms, passed out cold. I let her drop to the floor so I could think. My dick was hard and my mind was racing. Time for another dose of Mama's Little Helpers. I took a couple of the pills and before long the future was looking brighter.

"Feeling relaxed, I dressed Victoria's wound and went about cleaning her beautiful body. When I was done, I laid her down naked on the floor. I undressed and washed myself as I watched my bride sleeping. The temptation to take her was growing stronger, but I tried to convince myself to wait. Mama would never approve of my bride if she wasn't a virgin, so I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore my throbbing erection.

"I wrapped my bride in a satin sheet and carried her to the staircase. The house was freezing again. As I walked naked down the steps, I felt something touch me like wind across my skin. A low whisper swirled around me,
Mur-der-er.
My legs trembled, but I tried to ignore the voice.
You're a dead man, Henry.
The whisper slipped around me as I neared the bottom of the stairs.

"Still gripping my buck knife with Victoria in my arms, I made it to the front door when the cackling laughter started. It continued as I carried Victoria into the moonlight and down the path to the family chapel. When we passed through the gravestones of the old cemetery, something brushed by my back, tugging at my bride's satin shroud. A shriek of laughter sliced into the night."

"I'm sorry to have to stop you, Henry, but that's all we have time for today,” said Rebecca. Disoriented and annoyed by her abrupt interruption, Henry furrowed his brow in a pout and stared at the clay head.

"I'll see you again tomorrow evening.” Glad to step away, Rebecca picked up Henry's clay, observing his progress. “This is really coming along."

Henry's pouting expression disappeared at the compliment. He smiled with pride, spritzed the clay-covered knife with the spray bottle, and wiped it clean with a paper towel.

"Becky,” he polished the blade as he spoke, “I really like you."

"Please, call me Doctor.” She struggled to speak firmly.

"Becky, you know all my secrets now, and you're the only person who has ever really listened to me. You understand me."

"Well, that's my job, Henry. Your job is to get well.” Trying to steady her hand, she reached out and motioned for him to pass her the knife.

Henry held onto it, tilting the blade back and forth, causing its reflection to flash in Rebecca's eyes.

"But I want to know you, Becky,” he said, his voice husky and low. “I feel connected to you. When I get out, then I'll be able to visit you ... and really get to know you."

"That's not appropriate for a doctor and her patient, Henry. Now, please give me the knife. It's getting very late.” Her voice was thin and wavering.

"What's your last name, Becky? At least tell me that."

"Give me the knife."

"Why won't you tell me your name?” he shouted. “All the others tell me their name."

The orderly knocked on the door, “Everything okay in here, Doc?"

Rebecca held out her trembling hand. Henry winked and placed the knife in her palm.

"Come in,” she said. “It's time for Mister Doe to return to his room."

I don't know how much more I can take. I never thought it would be this hard. I got another call from the ward nurse today...

"Doctor?” said the frazzled voice. “Dana Haulker here. We met Friday. I'm the floor RN on Frank Doe's ward."

"Yes, Dana. How is he?” asked Rebecca.

"We've been administering the additional meds you prescribed, but I'm afraid he's getting worse. His nightmares have intensified and he's become extremely agitated since you cancelled the past week of his sessions. He hasn't eaten and he refuses his meds. We have to restrain him to administer them. Now we can't get him out of his bed."

"I've rescheduled him for this evening at six,” she said. “Let's see if he settles down when you give him that information. I can't come to his room every time he has a tantrum, or it may reinforce the behavior."

"Yes, Doctor,” said the nurse with an impatient huff. “I'll keep you informed."

Rebecca had just finished laying out Henry's sculpture and tools when he entered her office looking jittery and sallow. Avoiding eye contact, he sat down at the table but refused to touch the clay, mumbling to himself and turning away from the sculpted face with its strange twisted mouth.

"Hello, Henry,” said Rebecca. “I'm sorry I had to cancel our sessions last week."

"No, I said!” he shouted at the sculpture.

"No, what, Henry?"

"Nothing,” he replied, in a hushed voice. He sat sideways in his chair, avoiding the head and avoiding Rebecca.

"Is everything all right?"

"What do you think?” he said, verging on tears. “I can't sleep without having nightmares. People keep whispering around me, and I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin. I have to get out of this place. It's making me crazy. You've got to help me!"

Rebecca masked her smile. “Let's see what we can do to help you get out, Henry. I know it's a difficult phase, but we're so close. Just hang in there,” she said. “Why don't we start with where you left off on Monday?"

In a frenzy, Henry opened the pouch of tools and pulled out the knife.

"Shut up!” he screamed, pointing the knife at the head.

"Henry, put the knife down!” said Rebecca, looking toward the door, expecting an orderly to enter at the sound of the commotion.

"Shh ... she'll hear you,” he said.

"Who will hear me?"

He tilted his head toward the clay sculpture.

Rebecca was shaking from Henry's violent outburst, and there were no orderlies in sight. She scrambled for something to say. “Maybe if you give her a good spray, she'll quiet down."

Wielding the knife, eyes darting, Henry looked unconvinced.

"Here, I'll do it for you.” Fighting to still her shaking hand, she reached for the spray bottle. Henry grabbed her wrist, looking at her with wild eyes.

"Don't!” he said, nearly crushing her wrist in his grip. He stared into her blue eyes and paused as if recognizing her for the first time, then his wild look returned and he pushed her away. He snatched up the misting bottle.

"You better let me do it. She might get angry.” With a set jaw of renewed bravery, he glared at the eyes of the head and sprayed. He soaked the clay until it was dripping with muddy water. Glancing at Rebecca, he whispered, “I think it worked."

"Good job, Henry,” she said, letting out her breath and forcing herself to relax her knotted shoulders. “Why don't you sit back down so we can gather our thoughts and get started ... before she dries out."

Henry continued to clutch the knife, looking askance at the clay face, a feminine rendition of his own scarred flesh. Wanting nothing more than to send him back to his room, Rebecca knew her days with Henry were few. She couldn't waste this opportunity when she was so close. Regaining her composure, she held out her open palm to Henry.

"The knife, Henry."

He cradled it to his chest and looked at Rebecca with concern. In a strained voice he pleaded, “But I need it ... to protect you."

Knowing the danger, but weighing the potential that the session held for resolution, Rebecca nodded at Henry and withdrew her hand. Reaching for her notebook and pen, she paused, reading her last entry. She squared her shoulders and looked at Henry's pitiful ruined face.