Depravity (7 page)

“None of this is real.” Kevin repeated the same words over and over. He took solace in the chant, knowing that at any second he'd wake up in his bed. No doubt, the bed sheets would need changing. After a nightmare of this magnitude, he'd have to wring out his sweat, right after he'd peeled his sodden Batman Pyjamas on his wet body.

“None of this is real.”

Kevin slammed his eyes shut, doing his best to envisage his pale green pillows, caressing the back of his head.

“Open your eyes, you fat cunt.”

“None of this is real.”

“I swear down that if you don't do as you're told and open your eyes, your scream will be bouncing off these walls. The decibel level will easily match the others that have gone before you.”

Kevin's heart sped up but he kept his eyes shut tight. It wasn't fair that his tormentor, that horrid little ghost thing, fucking, kiddie bastard should be here as well. Well, this time, he wasn't going to let him pull his strings. His eyes were staying shut. The ghost thing's voice, just like the rest of this fantasy would fade away, he just had to keep his nerve.

“You just have to keep your nerve?” enquired the voice.

The scent of minty toothpaste wafted in his face. Kevin didn't have to open his eyes to know that the boy's face was millimetres from his. “None of this is real.”

“I'm not too sure how spouting off a redundant mantra is going to help anybody, least of you, Kevin. We both know that none of this is real, you ridiculous dickbiscuit. This is a slice of the past. An instruction on how, by now, you and your cellar wife ought to be behaving. Now, no more warnings. You'll do as you're told, and open your eyes. Real or not, believe me, any more defiance, and the agony you'll feel will be more real than you can ever fucking imagine.”

His eyes ignored his screaming brain and shot open. He'd inflicted enough torture in his life to understand just how much pain his body must be experiencing right now. His companion had shifted from in front of his face to against the wall beside him. Unlike Kevin though, he was sat in Kevin's favourite armchair, wearing Kevin's favourite dressing gown and he was pretty damn sure that the cigar that the little twat had in his hand was from his own stash as well. He ignored the gravity defying fact that there was nothing between the bottom of his chair and the stone floor apart from thin air.

“Nice of you to join me,” he said.

The apparition didn't even bother to suppress the sarcasm. Kevin would have shrugged if he could. He was getting used to this creature's traits now. He turned to the front, curious to discover the reason for this rather elaborate pantomime, only to see nothing had changed. The wall in front of him was still empty. He leaned forward, aware that he was tearing his own flesh but as this was all an illusion, he guessed that it didn't really matter. The last layer of slime coating that wall looked wetter than it should, but that could be just damp. It didn't really look that different to as it did now. “You've done all of this to show me a wall?”

“The human soul is a remarkable piece of metaphysical engineering, Kevin. I dare say that the chances of another species evolving after your kind dies possessing such an exquisite device is most unlikely.  The three self-aware species that preceded your lot provided us with the means to exist and multiply but until the humans turned up, we were nothing more than mindless grubs.”

The apparition stretched out and examined his fingernails. Kevin briefly wondered if this nasty little boy, with his tendency to steal his belonging would lose his balance and fall out of his chair. Kevin hoped so. Watching him crack the back of his head on the hard stone floor would make Kevin's day.

“It's like comparing having to exist on raw sewage and then suddenly tasting tender steak, washed down with a fine wine.” The boy lit the cigar. “Of course, it's not like your souls were easy to get inside. Believe me, they were built tough. Even when you fuckers die, you don't let go of your precious soul. It just lingers there, out of our reach, floating over where you die, forever. I can't tell you how frustrating it is to have all of that potential food source just out of reach.”

“Look, is this going anywhere? It's just that I really do need to pee.”

“I thought you said this wasn't real?” laughed the boy. “Either imagine that you're wrong or piss on the floor.” He looked hard at Kevin. “We'll be having company any moment, so just let me finish.” He licked his lips. “We require are souls damaged. It's like seasoning and flavour for the steak. It isn't necessary but come on, once you're used to the fine stuff, you'd do anything to ensure your palette is constantly satisfied.”

Kevin's barbed reply dried up when he found himself staring at the naked body of his own mother standing right in front of him. His father stood beside her, he too wore no clothes. The wall was no longer empty either. A teen boy hung in chains, directly opposite him. Judging from the wasted appearance, he'd be in that position for a number of days. He tried to place the face but it was almost impossible. Kevin wasn't sure if he'd be able to recognise the lad, even if the flesh on the left side of his face wasn't hanging down in ragged strips.

“He was before your time,” said the apparition. “Back then, these two knew how to make their prize to us last longer than a couple of weeks.  This really is an exquisite piece of art.”

His father had just unfastened a green leather and laid it out on a tall metal table, right in front of the boy. Unlike the one Kevin had, this one had no large instruments. Not even a scalpel. All he could see were a dozen bright silver needles of differing sizes, and what looked like a load of cotton buds. Kevin shot the apparition a curious look.

“See how the boy's eyes follow your father's progress as he runs his fingers along the pieces?”

The man's finger stopped on top of a needle, about the length of the man's index finger. He slid it out and held it up to the light. Kevin now saw that the point had been shaped to form a tiny hook. Their victim shook and howled out as his father grabbed the teen's left foot and pushed the needle under the nail of his big toe.

His dad wrapped his thick fingers around the teen's ankle then rolled the needle between his thumb and forefinger before pulling it out. Kevin had seen and participated in a huge amount of torture but listening to the teen's frantic screaming, coupled with the ribbons of bloodied shredded flesh, the hook was pulling out made him want to vomit. After a couple more insertions, his toenail slid away. His dad stuck the nail on the tip of the teen's nose. He seemed to find this hilarious.

His mother hadn't been idle during the torture. She'd lifted his penis up and had been patiently pulling out the hairs underneath the teen's scrotum. When her husband stuck the nail on his nose, she stopped her own form of torture, sunk her fingernails deep into his side then dragged them towards his hipbone, creating four deep furrows that pissed thick blood across the back of her hand. The woman then proceeded to wipe his blood over her large breasts.

“They were true artists, you know. This was a golden age in our symbiotic relationship, Kevin. The souls that the pair of them delivered were the sweetest we had ever had the pleasure of consuming. Each one damaged, scarred and mutilated. Each one unique and divine.” The apparition turned to Kevin. “The killing is just the end result. Do you not see that?”

Kevin blinked, he had to look away from the couple below him when they began to copulate. He felt a little nauseous watching his father's fat tongue slobber all over his mother's nipples. As well as  totally jealous. As far as he was concerned, those deep red buds belonged to him.

“That woman in the cellar needs this, Kevin. We brought her here because she fitted the profile, just like you did. She needs stimulation. Physical, visual and mental. Kevin, you need this too. You can't carry on living like you are.”

His mother now knelt in front of the teen, her left hand wrapped around his flaccid penis, while the large man mounted her. She'd sunk her teeth into his inner thigh. With each thrust, she let out a muffled scream, closely followed by snapping her jaw shut. It dawned on Kevin that she was actually eating him.

“I won't lie to you, Kevin. We all dined very well on the boy's soul. Definitely one to remember.”

“What happened to the body?”

The apparition grinned.

“Oh right.” Kevin went back to the performance, realising that he must have ended up in the rose beds along with all the others. His mother really was an attractive woman back then. Certainly nothing like the huge thing that took her place. It was almost watching a different couple. He thought back to his earliest memories of his father, trying to associate this rampant bull to the hate-filled, brain-dead cunt who took great pleasure in tormenting him when he was tiny. Oh, it was the same person, that much he was sure about.

The boy gripped his mother's flesh and cried out, pressing his hips tight against hers as he climaxed. With a tenderness he'd never seen before, he gently lifted the woman off her knees and planted a tended kiss upon her lips.

Some spark of what the man would become then suddenly materialised. He lunged at the teen, grabbing his ankles before smashing them against the wall. The cracking of bone echoed around the room.

Kevin didn't understand what must have happened to have changed this exciting pair into the depraved weirdos who almost ruined his future, nor did he care. The apparition was totally right. He did have to change. He also had to get his sister out of that cellar. Kevin giggled, imagining the boy who he'd given her to play with in these chains, while he did that sex act on the girl. Why not? If his mum and dad could, then there's no reason why he couldn't emulate the situation.

“That was utterly fantastic!” he exclaimed, grinning at his new best friend. “You really have opened my eyes.” He tugged his arm, frowning at the sight of the flesh trapped in the clamps tearing. “So, when do we start?”

The apparition dropped the cigar, he stood on the arm of the chair and rested his face against Kevin's nose. “You've had a taste of the good life. This was the carrot. Now you're gonna get the stick, you lucky, lucky bastard.”

6

Kevin howled out in utter agony, his one remaining eye, bulging at the sight of his mother slowly pulling the modified potato peeler down the underside of his arm. The razor edge peeling away glistening curls of both skin and flesh.

“Please, please no more!” he begged. Finding the energy to breathe when the woman paused to unclog the shredded meat from her implement. The words were wasted. She didn't stop yesterday, nor would she stop today. Her actions were locked. Predetermined, deviation from the fixed course was impossible.

His mother carefully un-threaded the stripped flesh from between the blades, gave the peeler a quick shake, she then flashed Kevin a sly smile before gripping the dangling  coil of flesh and giving it a vicious tug.

As every other horror that she'd inflicted upon him today, Kevin had the foreknowledge and had prepared himself, as best he could, for the onrush of agony. Yet as the skin ripped away from under his armpit, he inadvertently bit through the tip of his tongue when he slammed his jaw shut.

Kevin squealed out, still jumping at the touch of her warm fingers tracing patterns through the hairs in his chest. He choked out a blood-bubbled sob, knowing that his session was about to get much worse.

Through tear blurred vision, he watched the woman make her way to the door, and just like the last time, she whistled the chorus to an obscure 60's pop song. Just like the last time, he found his perverted mind trying to find the title and singer to that tune. His mother opened the door, turned around, blew him a kiss, before slamming the door shut.

He had about five minutes to compose himself and prepare for the next ordeal. It would be the man’s turn to have a bit of fun and frolics with Kevin’s already tenderised flesh. He wasn’t sure how he’d react when that fucker strode through that door, with a manic grin plastered across his face whilst proudly holding a blowtorch in his left hand.

Kevin tried to convince himself that the torment wouldn’t be as bad as he imagined this time around. Yesterday’s session didn’t cause him that much pain. When the man made that flame dance across Kevin’s fingertips, it felt no more severe than thrusting his hand into a patch of nettles. If anything, it was the stench of his cooking meat that brought upon the floods of salty tears.

No, this time around, Kevin would be feeling those nerve endings shrivel up. It was how this fucking game worked.

Alistair had already gone into great detail of what to expect, of just how much suffering that Kevin would undergo before all of this was all over. He closed his remaining eye and pressed the back of his head against the wall, wondering, for the countless time, if there was any way to escape this misery.

Once the parents had left the room, the room around them dissolved into oily yellow smoke. Kevin opened his eyes and found he was back in his study. He had a lit cigar in his left hand, a glass of red wine in the other and an astonished expression on his face.

Alistair sat opposite him. Apart from the apparition looking rather stupid buried  inside a smoking jacket three sizes too big, the situation was rather pleasant. He kinda wished that Alistair would have provided these comforts in the last illusion.

The boy leaned forward, he placed his own cigar on the table then he suddenly slapped the palms of his hands on Kevin’s knees, letting out a quiet chuckle. He then preceded to explain to Kevin that to torture an individual, you had to know exactly how far to take it, to emphasise with their victim, to feel their pain.