Lustful Avidity for the killing art

By john cabral

Set in mid-1970's suburbia, Lustful Avidity for the Killing Art is a psychological thriller told through the eyes of teenage murderer, Alexander Channing.

 

Alex is troubled with school, his home life, and later his girlfriend Bethany. His story ventures down the dark and depraved mind of a young killer who develops his skills throughout his adolescence. All of this leads up to a pivotal moment where his mistakes have tragic consequences that he must come to grips with. Meanwhile, Sergeant Arisha Cusae discovers these murders hide a more sadistic scheme than first realized.

• Language: English
• Publisher: john cabral
• Release date: Jan 6, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224934881

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Copyright © 2024.  By Jean Cabral.

Book Cover / Title page Design by Blue Heron Design Group.

First Printing: April 1st 2015

L.A. Legion Logo is Copyright © 2022 of Jean Cabral.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

Publishing company CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform (April 1st, 2015)

Online/Private

[e-mail]

https://www.lustfulavidity.org/

Publisher’s Note: Lustful Avidity for the killing art is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Book Cover/Title Page artwork was performed by Jenny Q Sandrof of Blue Heron Design Group.

Ordering Information:

Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by Draft2Digital.com

Lustful Avidity for the killing art/ Jean Cabral. – 2nd edition.

ISBN 979-8-873553846

Dedicated to

Larissa Barnett & Ron Huffman

My very first fans, optimistic and loyal through this journey.

Elizabeth Rensin.

Also, to my Canvas and Muse Bethany.

To all my Fans!

Thank you!

Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to reform.

―Mark Twain.

Contents

Prologue

Childhood

I

don’t think that people are born knowing or comprehending pain. I don’t think that people are looking for or wanting pain, I think suffering can harbor within a child at a very young age. Nature is not soft, nor perfect; unchangeable or expected. I think people naturally look for the easiest way to forget, ignore, or run from it.

I can recall when I was six, I attended first grade at Lelin Elementary. My teacher was Mrs. Devinbrook. I can’t recall much about her, but I do know that I despised her. I felt that she was an idiot, though I think she also reminded me of my mother, who I held in similar regard. 

I had no friends, nor did I care. I hated school, and I hated the other students as well. I do not know  why, but I was a quiet and watchful child who willed turmoil upon everyone.

My mom felt it necessary to give me supplies for school, but later I found out that it was due to the short lived overwhelmingly dominating father figure in my household. My mother felt there was something terribly wrong with my behavior and personality. My father on the other hand denied it and kept therapy at bay. Every day was the same monotonous routine.

On the left side of me sat a girl by the name of Chrystal Massey.

Out of my desk I placed a pack of Crayela’s. I was enticed by their various colors and their odd way of not transferring markings on my arms and legs.

I would contemplate why that was. One day, Chrystal made a huge error.

She turned to my desk and asked, I want to color with them. May  I?

I was always mean, but I did not understand why. I did not look for.

problems yet, they always managed to find me .

Toward the end of the school day, we were ordered by Mrs. Devinbrook to finish up and put our work away.

Chrystal stood up in front of my desk and asked if she could borrow my crayons.

I nodded and asked for them the next day. Looking back now, it was so trivial, but it infuriated me to such malcontent .

A few days passed, I still asked, yet this time there was a change she said. What crayons?  she asked.  Out of her desk was the pack of crayons. I knew it was mine due to the oval shaped burn that I knew was mine.

Those are mine! I exclaimed.

She grabbed the crayon and with a smirk These are mine, and you can’t have them.

I stood up quickly and grabbed the sharp pair of scissors that laid on my desk from the cut-out project we had that day. I snatched Chrystal by her long flowing and wavy blond hair, I entangled my fingers and gripped tight. I dragged her by her hair closer to me as the immediate redness from the pressure of the blade pierced into her soft pale skin. Intensified hate, anger, and heightened adrenaline; I enjoyed this free release of emotion.

In my view, there was only us; it was as if the rest of the class and dull-minded Mrs.

Devinbrook had faded away. Chrystal screamed, breaking my focus and the rest of the class as well. For a few moments. Mrs. Devinbrook pleaded with me to let her go. 

My lips found her ear with soothing despair.

You will suffer me, I whispered.

I released her from my grip; my entire body was trembling with euphoria and adrenaline.  I felt wakened as I placed the scissors back on the desk. Mrs. Devinbrook swept little innocent Chrystal in her arms.

Are you OK. Did  he hurt you?

Crying, she muttered, No.

The teacher sent me to the Vice Principal’s office. I was silent the entire way there. I followed the teacher to the secretary’s office where in front of her desk, there stood a chair. I sat for 45 minutes until my ignorant mother arrived, I could tell by her facial expression that I was in trouble and that worried me a bit.

She walked right past me into the Vice Principal’s office.

I was deemed too unstable to attend class with the other students. I knew what that meant; my ass was meeting the belt. Sure enough, back at home, I got the belt.

When my father arrived from work, I could hear them arguing about my sanity and whether or not I should see a therapist.

I listened unnoticed by my parents.

In the end, my father’s pride swayed the decision that I would not attend therapy, nor was there anything mentally wrong with me. I left it for what it was, and it was nothing.

The very next day: I do not know how, perhaps I overheard a forgotten conversation, or was once told a while ago, however I managed to find where Chrystal lived, and became familiar with the neighborhood she played in front.

The matter was unsettled. Her house sat at the street’s edge where there was a field. Patches of trees shaded the ditches and surrounding ground. I hid behind one of those trees.

On a cool Sunday afternoon. My father had become preoccupied by some friends and family that came over to eat, drink beer, and watch the football game.

The worthless dunce house pet was cooking the food and serving the men, unaware that I was out of the house and stalking my ex-classmate.

She was kicking along a red ball across the lawn.

I stepped closer and closer toward the house.

Chrystal, I lightly shouted. Chrystal! I repeated.

She saw me standing beside the garage wall to the side of her house.

She ran to my direction, stopping to collect her red ball, then continued toward me.

She stopped inches in front of me, Do you want to play ball with me?

I said not a word as I slapped the ball out of her hands. It bounced along the field into the ditch.

Sssttttoooooopp!

She ran for her ball into the ditch, where I followed not far behind. At the base of the ditch, she grabbed the ball and turned to make her way back up. standing behind her, As I stood behind her, our eyes met as she turned to face me.

I knew that I frightened her. With one push. she fell backwards with a heavy thud. I jumped onto her stomach, just as the ball slipped from her grasp.

I tightened my grip around her little neck; I observed the change of color and the gasping sound she desperately made.

At first, she moved violently, but the weight that I applied with my body subdued her nicely.

Once so quick to anger me, she now lay lifeless. Her face rested to one side, mouth slightly agape, as her eyes looked onward. After a moment, I simply brushed myself off and walked home.

I was tired and a little dirty. My mother yelled at me as  I entered the front door.

I hated her, but she did not interfere in my life, so I spared her life, and the family did not take notice that I was gone. Although she came very close to her death a few times, I think that is what kept her alive.

Where the hell have you been, and why are you so damn dirty? she yelled. Get your ass upstairs and wash up and take your brother too because he’s getting in the way. Go Alex, now! I’m not talking to the wall.

I did not care; I walked upstairs and met my brother halfway. Eric asked me where I was, and I shrugged my shoulders at him.

After I was done cleaning up, I stepped into my room. He was sitting on the floor with his plastic army men  and his yellow, metal Tonka truck. It was his favorite toy.

––––––––

⸟⸙⸟

Chapter One

Fourteen, Living in hell.

I had the next three days off from school until my parental unit of a Fleabag could decide where to place me. The Sister Agnes School of Reform.

Of all the schools she could find, she stuck me in a school of insipid drones.

I was miserable but the boredom drew a lot of mischief and creativity.

This was a large school added was dorms separated by gender and age, also two separate pools, a baseball field and basketball court, a large full church, an auditorium with a connecting section for the choir and music band to practice, around the grounds were statues and benches spread throughout the area, further back behind the school is a large field, toward the right side of the buildings is a playground and a running track, and further beyond all of this is the parking lots.

For the first two days I went to class and roamed the halls, it was a tomb of deceptions, liars, falsehoods, hallow platitudes and self-robbery, Nuns taught the classes, and though I called them by their rightful name, The Heretics, or witches, by their lies and contradicting sexual acts with the students, they betray their very beliefs by capitulating to sin.

I did not hold this animosity against them until they subjected me to their plague on my third day.

I remember it quite well.

I was walking down the hall with some classmates and a few nuns.

As we walked around the corner, I noticed the students filing into several different rooms; I halted in my tracks, so abruptly that it caught the attention of Sister Pseudo-paradigm.

Whatever is the matter, my child? she inquired.

She began  to scold me about proper form and respect to my elders, a reminder regarding morality and humility, annoying nonsense by Nuns.

I did not fully understand  what made me react in such a matter.

My mind swam even while exerting a calm composure over myself, holding back disbelief and disdain.

I refuse to be subjected to a mixture of education and religion; this is simply a mindfuck of sorts." I murmured this statement casually.

The Heretic grabbed my hand, and as I pulled away, another grasped my arm with both hands, gesturing the other witches to follow suit. I pulled back, trying to free one or both of my arms, but I could not.

I leaned back onto the nuns behind me as I lifted my legs to kick one of them. One nun flew back and toppled over another.

I pulled myself down into a crouching position and focused my attention on just one nun. She stepped back in fear, just before I lunged at her neck and face.

She screamed so I laughed, however, by that point the mob’s leader came over to take control of the situation.

I grabbed the child molester by his neck; and choked him while his eyes met mine locked into a gaze.

Take this godforsaken child out of my sight! the Cult’s leader demanded. This child is forbidden to enter this church until civility reclaims him!"

At once father. A Nun responded gasping  as to catch her breath.

I was dragged into a room where I sat to wait out the service.

Every day the students were off to church while I had the freedom to read all different types of books, astronomy being a favorite. I enjoyed speaking and reading Latin, amongst other languages.

Sunday through Friday I attended this horrid school. 

Unlike other students, I did not have a regular routine.

I did not attend church services or have regular school activities with the students.

Because of my outbursts and disruptions, I would be forced to work in the library most of the time, every evening I went home after class, unless I was held a few hours after school to perform chores, and in the beginning my behavior meant I did chores all the time, mopping floors, scrubbing walls, and kitchen duty.

It was a Sunday, midday. I was sitting, far back into a wooden chair, feet resting  up on the desk, reading a scientific magazine. Before then I had never gazed at girls in any way, so the feeling caught me off guard, as She walked into the room where I was sitting; Lorie Wadgeworth was her name.

What are you doing in here? she asked.

I am reading. What does it look like? I replied sarcastically.

I think you are trying to get out of church today. She stated.

No, you are wrong. I am merely trying to expand my mind; I cannot do this with such incompetent nuns.

Lorie leaned over the desk, I think you secretly like them?

My eyes remained fixed on the magazine.

Lorie folded part of the papers that I held of the magazine, just enough to see my face, as I suddenly dropped my legs to the floor.

What? I asked again less patient than before.

What is your name, silly ? Lorie smiled.

At first glance I questioned her sanity then was shocked briefly of the possible notion she could be interested in me, I could think up infinite reasons how I could be wrong in my assumptions, yet  I needed to take hold of myself. I was perplexed after all, yet I could not take it upon myself to show her. Was it weakness,  perhaps ? I was unsure.

Should I provide a name for you?

Will that make you disappear anytime soon? I responded with irritation in my voice.

When her smile disappeared, I knew I was close to succeeding.

Why are you so mean? I did nothing to you. Lorie asked hurt.

Yes, you did. You are currently doing it now.

She touched my face, I know you from class, you’re odd as you never smile, And handsome.

I pushed her hand away. This gesture and what she said infuriated me, to think I am this shallow and insufferable stupid as her. I would kill her for her simple-minded remark.

You have a very nice smile. She added.

I did not answer. My feeling of hatred of her was growing.

I walked over to the window; the light was shining through the library, cascading in beams. I was standing in one of these beams, but not alone for long.

Lorie pulled the magazine from my hands.

Keep it. I said! I doubt you will find anything useful in it. That is to say, you’re a moron to make myself clear. You fit naturally to the stereotypical gender-drone, and you bore me.

As I walked past her, I told her my name and  then left her there.

It did not take long for me to start running into her everywhere. I’d had enough. One day, I followed her into the girl’s bathroom. Quietly I locked the door behind me.

I waited at the far end by the last stall until she started washing her hands. Quickly I moved toward her, and grabbed her upper arm,  turning her around.

She uttered out a short scream before I covered her mouth, eyes widen, heart pounding she managed to drop her lip gloss into the sink .

What do you want from me? Stop following me. Every time I look, you are always around. Leave me the hell alone! I don’t like you nor will I ever like you. I said while my grip tightened, her eyes widening.

Let me go, that hurts! Okay... okay; so, I like you. She mumbled with my hand still covering her mouth.

As I uncovered her mouth, she repeated her earlier statement .

My hostility toward her was deserved, I despised her for following me,

I hated the attention.

More and more I wanted to pull her flesh away from her bones.

She purposely injected herself into my life as a persistent annoying obstacle impeding my life.

I eased my grip and let her go.

Why would anyone like me? I took exceeding measures to ensure that I would not be liked.

What was different here? I never heard anyone say that they liked me. Not even my parents had ever said that they loved me.

I did not mind then, yet I still didn’t mind now. Most kids and most people must hear that they are loved, I am not one of them.

I simply don’t care to be close to anyone, I placed my brother close to me and everyone else on the outside as drones, potential victims.

Ones that no rules apply because they are merely objects to be manipulated, tortured, or ignored, I am spared from guilt, unease, or pity. I only needed one friend, and that was Eric.

I weigh my self-worth by my own terms, not by the delusional moral standards of others. 

As Lorie pulled back my bangs from my face, I did not shy away. I soon found her hand in my own.

Did she not understand I wanted none of this? This gesture was pissing me off! I felt uncomfortable having her look upon me in that way.

I shoved her from me, with the mixture of emotions that seem to be unclear how I felt about this situation, several feelings were present and strong,

I hated her for putting me into this awkward position, and I detested her existence, and yet I could not fathom the notion of her feelings toward me, many questions began to take my mind, complex were these questions I posed as it would not be made clear to me at this moment, one emotion jumped out from many that I hated her intensely. 

If you do that again, I will break your hand. And don’t ever talk to me or follow me again .

I quickly walked out of the bathroom and left the school.

I ran on my way home.

Along the way, I passed Eric’s school.

He was two years younger than me.

as I walked my pace hastened.

Across a field I witnessed three boys beating someone that closely resembled my brother.

I stepped in through a gap in the chain link fence. As I approached the fight, they quickly halted from beating the boy lying on the ground.

Leave! This doesn’t concern you unless you want some of this too. one of them foolishly uttered. 

I said nothing as I made my way to them, one, then the second boy stopped hitting who I thought was Eric temporarily to see what I would do or say to them as I approached them in the middle of the outskirts of the field.

As I walked closer to the angry mob, without missing a beat it was now unmistaken as it was him,  surely it was Eric.

I looked down at him then turned my attention to the three that I approached.

The taller boy, physically looking stronger than the others even though his face and behavior showed his true age much younger than he looks, his fist balled up ready for the next strike when the sound of the other two boys alerted him to me walking up to them quickly as he stopped but still holding on to Eric’s shirt as he added to the conversation.  You must have gotten lost or something.

No. I replied.

You got a problem?

No, but you will,  I causally responded.

This isn’t your problem. Why don’t you get out of here? another stated.

‘Eric, get on your feet’ I said, gesturing at him to get ready. Your hand on my brother is my problem ! I added.

Out of my pants cargo pocket, I pulled out a lightweight six-inch blunt pipe. It found its way to the first guy’s face knocking out a few teeth. A moment later another knocked me on the side of my head.

I fell to my hands and knees, but I blocked his kick, and grabbed the other foot.

As I rose to my feet, I sent him backwards, falling onto the ground. 

I raised my pipe to strike at him, but in the corner of my eye. I saw his friend coming for me.

While leaning over one, I turned to slam the other boy across the face with the pipe and socked him in the gut.

The boy went down, so I continued to beat on him when someone grabbed me by the pants and neck.

All at once I was heaved backwards toward the ground. That is when later realized I blacked out.

I stood up as he continued to hit me.

I blocked his next punch and slammed him across the face rendering him momentarily confused.

I dropped the pipe, my fingers clinching his hair as, I punched him and, kicked him across the stomach a dozen times. Leaning over him, I punched him repeatedly, even after he was unconscious.

Eric grasped at me, I think he’s had enough, let’s go. Eric said encouraging me to follow him.

I was mumbling something by which the others had difficulty making sense.

My head felt light, and I desired more, enough was not enough, there was no overkill, there is only death. I moved away from him, reaching for the pipe again and uprooting a little grass with it.

Blow after gut-wrenching blow, I lost track of how many times I struck him. I would have kept going but my brother insisted that we go.

One unconscious on the ground, the second boy is semiconscious, starting to come around and the third boy ran off. 

In silence Eric and I walked off  together. I would not tolerate anyone hurting my brother lest they suffer me, for anyone else I cared little. 

A few hours, we stayed at an abandoned apartment building, wanting to shut out the world, and forget our problems.

Later we walked home. I never asked for my brother’s respect, but I received it all the same. As we got to the house there was another evening filled with listening to our neighbor’s dog barking into the night.

In the dark we conjured ideas on how to put away that dog.

After dinner, in my household we went to bed at the early hour of 7pm. I normally did not care unless it would affect me in some way, tonight was a normal night. I did not sleep even though my dim-witted mother sent us to bed.

When I knew Beast was downstairs and thinking that I was asleep.

I got up and sat in the window seal gazing up at the stars. I had been fascinated at a younger age.

When my thoughts were brimming of wonders and multitude of possibilities, each year I focused less above and more on earthly matters, still moments like this were becoming scarce, yet I embraced them when they arise, I would ponder paradigm of nothingness, and let my mind drift to sleep, other times, however, I would fantasize on killing people, and the overwhelming emotions that would swim and ensnare my thoughts.

That same boring rut my obtuse minded mother called life, she woke me up to purposefully subject me to the witches of Christ, I detested them as well as with her, that beast of a woman.

The night passed as it did, slowly until my mind could no longer stand to be bored awake, The Morning had arrived and with it that beast came to wake me up, slowly my mind eased its way out of slumber, even my body wanted more sleep, I would recover and be wakeful.

Getting ready and having breakfast came and gone as a blur. In my hand A large cup of coffee, I headed for the car to wait for Beast to take us to school, first Eric’s school then to mine.

She was only a few minutes getting some last-minute paperwork that had to go with Eric to school.

We dropped him off, her behavior was nice, almost motherly to him, yet she would be cold and distant to me. I got out of beast’s car and shrugged off her cold demeanor as I approached the stairs in front of the school.

Others have drugs. I never needed them to make me odd. Being odd came natural to me. I went to class after the morning service.

I sat myself four rows down and close to the window.

Mrs. Dome’s class I found it to be very boring, but I did like to see her face. She is young compared to the other drones, and very attractive. American history is what she tried teaching.

It’s my worst subject because she is a distraction. I find myself either watching her or looking out the window and thinking of other places to be.

Alexander! Pay attention! Eyes forward on the board, class!

As soon as she singled me out to the class, my mind wandered off again. It did however spark the interest of Lorie to watch me, and that did bother me a little.

As class ended, she called for me. I acted as though I did not hear her.

I rushed out of the class and down the hall to my next class.

Some classes would be split, the girls from the boys.

I went to advanced mathematics while she went to home economics, or encouraged early child development, or creating complex problematic relationships that develop hardships and create stressed communities, with no solutions or viable outcomes, a worthless class that is flawed.

Hey Alex, wait for me. Alex, Wait!

Finally, she caught up to me.

Woman, what is your damage?

So, Alex is your name?

Yeah, and most of the time it’s son of a bitch. 

Will I see you at the library or perhaps outside by the stairs?

How about this? Mmmmmm. No! How about you find yourself a place where I am not.

She grabbed at my shirt, annoying me further and I swung my arm around then pushed her to the side, which almost pushed her into Mrs. Dome.

Alexander! Are you pushing Lorie? Mrs. Dome asked.

Yes, but she will not find someone else to torture.

Mrs. Dome gave me a displeasing look before speaking again, Lorie, go to class. Alexander you are with me.

I could feel Lorie’s eyes on me as I followed Mrs. Dome to the Library. This is where I normally ended up, I guess they ran out of places to put me, but I am betting on they just have a lack of imagination.

She talked about how I should not do such things to girls, how it’s a sin, I could be punished for my wrong deeds, how boys are to behave with girls and how morality should be practiced, and it is a well reward and blah, blah, blah, I watched her eyes, her mouth, how she moved around the room, and then I watched her exit the room and purposely forgetting what she said.

I opened my math book and fell into completing my assignments. Math came easy to me as did any subject of science.

Time flew by and before I knew it was last period.

I only thought to leave before she found me. I snuck out of the library window, cutting across the field, and walking down the street with the sun hitting my backside accompanied with a continuous cool breeze that dried the beads of sweat across my forehead. 

For a peaceful moment that came and went to a flash arise to a new thought.

I found myself walking down a different road, an unpaved dirt road. This was off my normal path; I needed something different even if it was this path I had taken; something that would break this monotony, where it would lead and I didn’t mind to know, a moment my attention swam within uncertainty.

A few short cuts and I will be home yet before this I stopped for a moment, at an abandon house. I was having a good moment and found my place again.

Warmth within my skin soon filled with an intense pain in the back of my head.

Seeing white, soon after losing track of time and my equilibrium instantaneously, I somehow understood that the white was not due to the blow, but I was looking up at the sun.

I knew this and knew I was lying on my back I had fell to the ground, my mind had fallen out of sorts somehow, as my thoughts came easier, I turned on my back. Standing above me, I saw a face I recognized, before another swing of the wooden bat toward my stomach.

I caught the bat mid swing. Something came over me. It was that other kid that ran off a few days ago from the fight. As I got up, he continued to kick me. I took his bat and struck him across the face.

I watched as he fell onto the sidewalk. I grabbed him by his hair as I walked to the abandon house.

I dragged his limp body to the house and through the false opening in the window at the back end of the house, the living room I pulled him through it and up the stairs, and past the bathroom, past the two rooms on both sides down the hall. Finally, I drug him into the last room. Standing by the boarded-up window, within the large closet I bound his hands together and tied him to a metal enclosed ring, his feet was done much to the same yet connected to a metal loop that hooked to the floor of the closet.

I watched him slowly regain consciousness.

He was still a bit groggy. Maybe from what he unknowingly inhaled.

I have no name for you, only someone who thought it necessary with two others to beat up my younger brother, to fight me, You, I know are a coward, to run off amidst of a fight, to attack me from behind, I must say; I don’t know what issues you had with my brother,

He tried to mumble some words with no success.

I will soon remedy those mumbles for you but right now be silent, twice you had the chance to kill me, and yet I have you where I want you to be, fortunate for you I had not focused my mind on you until now, your life could have been different, now you have run out of time, your life is mine.

I made my way to a black bag next to the bed, a long leather whip with small metal sharp blades bound within the black leather.

Only columns of light forced through the openings between the wood beams nailed across the windows, the sunlight barely graced the floor.

He could not stand up, this drug was very powerful, he could barely move. His vision as well as his thoughts came slow.

Don’t bother getting up.

Out from my pants pocket was a clear small bottle that had no name.

You are succumbing to poison.

I tied his neck with a choke chain that was latched to a shorter chain leading to the upper part of the closet through the loop to a longer leash that stood on a nail in the wall, this would allow me to add tightness or loosen it by my will.

I held the whip with a tight grip and added with a smile Hang back with me a little while, I have something for you, you definitely will not enjoy it, but I will.

With every lash of this whip, he mumbled continuously and from it drew blood.

I screamed every profanity I could summon, as I beat him bloody.

My frenzy grew with my insanity.

I enjoyed torturing this moron and he didn’t have to provoke I would have done this to him without provocation, in the simple fact he made himself available to be my victim.

After some time had passed, I was drenched in sweat and he was equally drenched in blood and had passed out from pain and lack of blood, it was time to call it a day, my project; how I favor them, but it was time to go home.

I exited the abandoned house and went through the short cuts to my own house. Making my entrance through the back door in the garage and to the kitchen; I walked across the living room, up the stairs and down the hall. Right before entering my room someone grabbed my arm, it was my idiot mother figure.

What happened to you child? Did you get into another fight?

No mother, I replied. I fell while running.

She looked at me for a brief moment then continued Then go and clean up to get ready for dinner.

I watched my father in the background as he remained quiet. I stood behind the door listening unnoticed for a moment.

You should not ride him so hard like that dear. He is a boy and boys will do silly things. He may even hate you when he is older.

My mother giggled, "Nonsense John, in my strict home. Right now, he may be upset but later he will understand what I have done, and he will love me for it as he does now.

I drew back listening from the doorway. 

Foolish lamb, I loathe you, but let you think what you will.

Alex, I have caught a cat, my brother proclaimed eagerly. I have trapped it in the garage. he added.

After dinner then; I think it would be best if we don’t let our parental units find out about it, and we will have more time with the animal. I replied.

I could see that my remark disturbed Eric a bit as he sat on the edge of his bed.

I leant in to kiss his forehead. In the entire world we only have each other. No one could take that away. I assured him.

I went to the bathroom to clean up, but in the back of my mind I kept a thought for the project. How many days should I let him wait? ...How many? Not even my brother had ever seen or knew what I did, sometimes I think he may have glimpsed a bit into my hell.

In the end he was just good natured to my level of sadistically natured, but that did not matter, he was my brother and I loved him very much.

From an outward perspective our household was quite normal and happy, yet it was anything but that, I hated that hypercritical beast festering cunt of a mother, I felt indifferent to father and I was not close to any other family