THERIOPHOBIA: FEAR THE BEAST Part 42
Marley Kidde felt like a new woman.
She’d hunted through the trailer until she’d found Leland’s keys; easy enough, since he’d left them on his bedroom dresser. After getting the chain off, she’d treated herself to a hot shower. She’d even found an extra toothbrush still zipped up in a small travel case. She’d put a little pan on the stove and dropped the toothbrush in boiling water to be certain it was clean, then brushed her teeth. Likewise she’d cleaned one of Leland’s combs and used it to smooth out her hair. She’d put on a clean T-shirt from Leland’s closet. All in all, she’d made herself quite at home.
Leland lay sprawled in the cleared-out living room.
Marley came back from the rear of the trailer, still combing her wet hair.
“Now just where do you think you’re going?” she asked.
Leland had tried to crawl across the floor. He’d left bloody streaks where he’d clawed at the hardwood with his crushed fingers. He rolled his head towards her, blinking.
“Naughty, naughty.” Marley had left the little pot of boiling water on the stove. She picked it up by the handle, came into the living room.
Marley poured the scalding water over his back. Leland squealed like a hog in agony.
She’d used the hammer to smash his knees and elbows, his ankles and wrists, his hands and feet, fingers and toes. Leland couldn’t hurt her now.
*But I can hurt him.*
Marley went back into the kitchen.
“Look what I found,” she said. She held up Leland’s cattle prod.
“L-l-lee . . . me . . . alone!” Leland managed.
“No,” Marley said. “I don’t think so.”
“J-jus’ go on h-home an’ l-lee me alone!”
Marley went to the front door and opened it. A hot breeze blew into the room. It felt good on her damp skin. She took a deep breath.
“I’m in no hurry.” She stared out into the night. “Mmm. Moon’s so pretty tonight.”
“You sure do say please a lot,” Marley said. She turned around, smiled down at him. “Tell me something, Leland? Was it worth it? Was it worth it to fuck me?”
“Please!” Leland blubbered.
“You’ve had your fun,” Marley said. “Now I’m having mine.” She closed the door.
“Does it hurt, baby?”
A whimper for an answer.
“Good,” she said. She held up the cattle prod and pressed the trigger. A spark danced between the metallic tips. “Then you can holler for me. I like it when you holler.”
* * *
WAYNE MILLER is the owner and creative director of EVIL CHEEZ PRODUCTIONS (www.evilcheezproductions.blogspot.com, www.facebook.com/evilcheezproductions), specializing in theatrical performances and haunted attractions. He has written, produced and directed (and occasionally acted in) over a dozen plays, most of them in the Horror and Crime genres. His first novel, THE CONFESSIONS OF SAINT CHRISTOPHER: WEREWOLF, is available for purchase at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/734763
MORTUI VELOCES SUNT!