Page 18 of The Silent Night Stalker
Steve leaves my room, and I follow him out. I try to hold back my tears, to stop fucking crying, but I can’t. I’m just so lost and afraid. He hurts me a lot, but Christmas Eve is a goddamn nightmare.
We reach the living room downstairs. Mom is passed out on the couch already as the music continues to blast through the stereo speakers.
“Sit down,” Steve orders.
Ido as I’m told, still crying and shaking.
After pouring himself a shot of something, he chugs it back and reaches for the gift sitting on the old coffee table before handing it to me. It’s ominous. I know there will be horror inside. The strangest thing about it is that each year, Steve takes the time to wrap the gift perfectly. He does it with so much care, almost reverently. Does he actually believe what he’s giving me is a real gift? Like, he takes pride in what he’s picked out for me. But that’s crazy, right? Right?! I know he’s insane. He has to be. And the years of suffering have made me… off, too. I can feel myself mentally slipping more and more. I’m always paranoid, and my mind goes into hiding sometimes, making me black out.
My body is shaking violently, and I feel sick to my stomach. I take shuddering breaths as I tug at the bow to untie it. I glance at Mom, who’s still passed out, silently begging her to wake up and finally protect me for once in her sad excuse for a life.
Steve sits on the sofa, lighting up another smoke. I know he’s going to burn me with that one, too. God, I want to run, but he’ll just find me and bring me back. Not that I can run far without money or anything.
By the time I get the paper torn off the box, I want to throw up. It takes all my willpower not to barf everywhere, and only because Steve will beat me for it. And cleaning it up is gross.
My hands shake so much that I can barely pry off the lid of the box. He just sits and watches me with curious fascination, not saying a word.
I finally get it open and slam my eyes shut. I don’t want to see it. Please don’t make me see it.
“Open your eyes!” he snaps. “I went through a lot of trouble to get it for you.”
I slowly open my eyes as more tears spill down my face, making my vision blurry. When I finally look down, a sob escapes me, and I throwthe box and the gift off my lap. It tumbles to the dirty rug as I scramble higher on my chair, taking my feet off the floor.
“No, no, no…”
I don’t see him coming at me when he takes a fistful of my hair and yanks me to the ground, putting me face-to-face with my living nightmare.
“Look. At. It. Do you haveanyidea of what I went through to get this for you?”
Steve finally did it. He’s leveled up to humans. He must kill regularly.
The hand on the ground is crusted with blood on the stump, and it’s nearly purple. It doesn’t smell as bad as the other gifts, but it will soon.
“Isn’t that the most perfect hand you’ve ever seen, Arthur?”
I can only nod. But I want to die. So much.
He lets me sit up, and I wipe away the tears from my face. “Pick it up and hold it.”
I’m weak. Too weak.
I pick up the stiff, cold hand as he watches me in awe.
Please take me away from here.
Chapter 8
Enzo
“Fuck…”Igroanasthe drug wears off. How much did that asshole give me? Talk about a fucking out-of-body experience. I couldn’t move, but I was kind of aware, like I was in a dream state, but not. The hallucinations were fucking freaky, like I envisioned my attacker crying next to me in a fetal position. But that’s nuts because he ran off. Still, the entire thing made me want to panic, but I couldn’t because I was calm as fuck.
“Asshole,” I muttered.
I’m still disoriented and nauseous. While under the drug, I couldn’t feel a damn thing, but now the pain in my hand is returning from when I punched the dickhead’s face. At least my nuts stopped throbbing.
But when I feel pressure and warmth against me, I freeze. I crane my head to the side and see my attacker curled into me like we’re fucking lovers or something. Is he… fucking sleeping against me?
JesusfuckingChrist.
