William Rose - Shut the Fuck Up and Die!

Matt was sitting in what looked to be an old dining room chair. His ankles were bound to the wooden legs so tightly that it almost seemed as if the rope were burrowing into his jeans and his hands had been pulled behind the slatted back, presumably tied as well. His head hung forward so that his bangs were in his eyes and his chin practically rested on his chest, but she could see and hear him smacking his lips as if his mouth were filled with the same thick saliva that flooded hers.

“That’s a good girl. Wakey, wakey….”

Mona snapped her head back and glared at the old woman, despite the needles of pain that jabbed into her temples as she squinted her eyes. She opened her mouth, intent on spitting out a slew of curses, but the anger somehow got mired in the thick slush clogging her synapses, and all that came out was a dry croak.

Mary smiled and smoothed her yellow dress as her eyes scanned the smooth skin of Mona’s arms, lingering on them the way a construction worker might ogle the curves of her ass. Behind her round spectacles, something flared within her eyes and she ran the tip of her tongue across her lips.

“The boys have done gone for your car. But don’t fret over that. They’ll make sure ain’t nobody never gonna find it, girlie.”

Mona’s muscles tensed and she tried to lunge forward; but coarse ropes bit into the soft flesh of her wrists and the legs of the chair she was tied to didn’t so much as scrape against the floorboards. The sudden movement, however, caused bile to shoot up into the back of her throat as the world swam in and out of focus.

“Ain’t you just the cutest thing? They all fight, at first. Like a coupla cats in a sack. But after a spell, ‘ole Mary has a way of takin’ that fight plum out of ’em. You’ll see.”

She reached forward with an open hand and tried to push a lock of dark hair away from Mona’s face, but the younger woman snapped her teeth like a viscous dog on the end of a leash. Mary snatched her hand away and frowned as she shook her head.

“Well, I declare…. Just like a scared, little animal caught in the hunter’s big, bad trap. I reckon you’ll need housebreakin,’ Mary will hafta show you your place, girlie.”

“Old woman….”

Though it was as thick and mumbled as someone in the throes of sleep, the voice that had spoken was unmistakably Matt’s.

“… you let us go now and maybe we’ll forget any of this ever happened.”

Mary cackled and strolled over to where he was tied. She squatted down on the balls of her feet so she could look him directly in the eyes and pursed her lips for a moment.

“Boy,” she finally said, “I don’t reckon you rightly understand the situation.”

Her hand slipped into the pocket of her dress and reemerged with a silver handled knife. She turned it slowly, allowing the light to glint on the short blade.

“But you will… soon enough.”

The fog that clouded Mona’s vision seemed to be lifting somewhat and she could now make out details of the room they were in. Pushed against one wall was a simple sleigh bed whose sagging mattress was draped with a comforter decorated with pink roses. Various, mismatched pillows were propped at the head of the bed and a glass of water sat on a night stand off to the side. The walls were lined with faded photographs and, on the opposite side of the room, was a closed door. Beside the door was a scarred and beaten desk that had scrapbooking supplies piled onto its surface and she suspected at least one of their chairs had been taken from this work area. Across from the desk was a window covered with what looked like yellowed cheese-cloth; the fabric was so thin that Mona could see pine trees outside and a hint of sky that was just beginning to lighten with the coming of dawn. Which meant that they’d been knocked out for quite some time.

Swiveling her head in the other direction, Mona saw an open door leading into a dimly lit hallway. She could just make out the top of the stairs and a glass case that stood against the wall. Inside the case hung a compound bow wrapped in camouflage tape and the razor-like tips of arrows gleamed like the smiles of demons.

Mona’s heart forgot to beat for a moment as she stared into the hallway. If there were only some way to get those feathered rods of death in her tingling hands….

“Tell you what, sonny… you can watch as I take some of the fight outta your little hussy over there.”

Mary jabbed the knife in Mona’s direction, but her cold eyes never strayed from Matt’s face.

“Such pretty, delicate skin… she’ll open up just like a ripe slicin’ tomato, I bet. And she’ll bleed for ‘ole Mary. Oh yes, you can take that to the bank, boy. And after you’ve had your fill of her screamin’ and cryin’ and beggin’ for me to stop… after she looks like she’s done run plum through a barb wire fence… then you talk to me about lettin’ the two of ya go.”

“I swear to God, if you fuckin’ lay a finger on her….”

Mary laughed again, her voice drowning out the rest of Matt’s threat.

“I ain’t feared of you, boy. Only reason I haven’t done it already is I promised Earl Ray he could lay with this little whore before she’s been all cut up and bruised. He’s such a good boy. Unlike that half wit brother of his. But maybe Daryl will have a go at her, too. If’n he spends ten minutes in a dark closet first.”

Mary slapped her leg and chuckled as if some sort of joke had been made; but Matt’s face was as hard and immovable as if it had been cut from stone. He stared straight ahead silently while taking slow breaths through his nose. His jaw was clenched so tightly that Mona could almost hear his teeth grinding against one another and his pupils had shrank to mere pinpoints. In all respects, he looked like a totally different man now; gone was the young newlywed who was as quick with a smile as he was a joke. In his place, sat some hulking creature whose girth seemed to grow with each slow, measure breath.

Mary wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, but the grin that had been plastered across her face faded as she noticed this new countenance. Blinking several times, she chewed on the inside of her cheek as she stood back up.

“You ain’t right, boy. There’s somethin’ about you….”

Her voice was so low that it seemed as if she were talking more to herself than her prisoner.

“You got that same look in your eye ‘ole Smoky got that time he was bit by that rabid coon.”

Mary glanced at Mona and then back to Matt again. For the first time, she seemed uncertain of herself: her movements were less fluid now and the halting manner in which she approached Matt seemed to suggest indecision.

“You’re a dangerous one…. You’d really die for that little piece of tail, wouldn’t ya? Lotsa folks say they would… but when it comes right down to it, all they really care ‘bout is their own hide. But not you. You’d really do it, boy.”

The last sentence was not a question.

After a moment of silence, Mary nodded her head as if in agreement to some argument only she could hear.

“Don’t have no real use for you, anyhows. ‘Cept for just plain fun.”

She circled around the chair Matt was tied to like a predator closing in on prey that had been brought down, but not incapacitated. Standing directly behind him, she looked at her own reflection in the blade of the knife and nodded once again.

She bent her arm so that it was angled around Matt’s neck and pressed the blade of the paring knife against the bulging vein in his throat.

“I reckon I should put you down just like I did ‘ole Smokey.”

Mona tried to scream, but her voice got stuck in a hard little knot somewhere behind her vocal chords. It was as if she were still in the clutches of whatever drug Mary had used on them: paralyzed by the thought of losing the only person she had ever truly given a damn about, Mona could only sit and watch as her new husband’s blood trickled slowly from the wound.