Page 14 of A Christmas to Die For
"Okay," she mutters. I watch as she slowly unlaces her boots.
He also watches her, the act uncomfortably similar to a woman stripping naked. Maybe that's the point of him asking.
"Where y'all headed?" he asks us again.
"What the hell?" I curse through pursed lips. I don't want this whack job hearing any of the insults swimming in my brain. I don't even answer him because he's so distractedwith Mara.
One by one, she peels off her socks—two layers—and clutches them tightly in her hands.
Then he reappears, his wild eyes gleaming with something far worse than greed. Can't he buy new socks with the money we're giving him? No. This isn't about that. This is something vile. My stomach churns as realization sets in. He doesn't just want to take our money; he wants to scare us.
"Are the chains on?" Mara asks, as if we truly are negotiating some twisted life or death deal.
"You got those socks?" he growls.
"Yes," she replies, holding them out like maybe the fabric isn't as innocent as we thought it was.
"Don'." He gives Mara a bewildered look. She just stares back, equally confused. His accent is thick enough that done sounds more like Don.
Mara throws the socks out the window without hesitation, and I don't think twice. I slam the car in reverse. I can't exactly speed off, but the wheels grip, and it's the first bit of control I've felt in awhile.
The old man fingers the socks out of the snow like they are his prize for doing a good deed.
Mara, Phoebe, and I sit petrified as we watch him hold the socks to his nose and inhale deeply, sniffing them with an almost savage hunger.
I'm fumbling the gearshift so I can take the car out of reverse and into drive. Just as I start to accelerate, he unclips his massive belt buckle and lowers his pants and underwear to fall at his ankles. We watch in horror as he begins to rub his penis with the socks, his sickening actions slow and deliberate.He pumps his fist faster, moaning and shaking from the pleasure. I smash the pedal down, desperate to put as much distance as I can between us and that... thing.
"Merry Christmas and welcome to Frosthaven Falls!" he screams into the void, his voice trailing behind us as we fishtail away, horrified andrevolted.
"I'm going to be sick." I'm fighting to keep it together as we appear to be far enough away to breathe.
"That was the grossest, most disturbing thing I've ever seen," Sabrina groans, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turn white.
I lower the volume onWinter Dreamsby Kelly Clarkson, realizing we're already halfway through her Christmas album, but I can't register a single note. Not a lyric, not a jingle bell.
Every muscle in my body is locked. I can't react, can't process. It's like I've been frozen in time.
He looked at me like heknewme.
And when I handed over the money, his finger grazed mine—a little too slow, a little too intimate.
I truly might be sick.
But when we've driven a good mile and the car is still intact, no wheels spinning off or pieces of the engine falling out from below us, we all breathe a sigh of relief.
It's only when the snow begins to let up that I finally speak up. "My socks? Seriously? Does he realize how sweaty they were?"
"That was probably the appeal." Phoebe sticks her tongue out then gags while stifling a laugh.
"They can't have smelled good. These boots have sat in my closet for years."
"Sock thief, disgusting rat bastard," Sabrina begins. "He probably fucks his livestock for fun."
"I managed to snap a photo of his street sign, or at least what I could make out of it. We can tell the police when we get to town." I hold up my phone, showing Sabrina and Phoebe the image.
"Deadwood Grove. How fitting." Sabrina smirks. "Smart thinking, Mara. I was trying to get us out of there in one piece, even if it meant running him-"
"Sabrina, look out!" Phoebe screams, her words laced with panic.
