AllFreeNovel
Share Us
In the downstairs, I only stick to the living areas, covering furniture and spreading around any sheets I could find to make sure I’m consistent, and considering most things are heat retardant nowadays, it's best to be thorough. Again, I make sure there are some windows open, wanting this to go off without a hitch.
I only have two jerry cans left, and I keep those in the hallway. They will be used at the very last minute. Going back to my car, I remove my gloves and place them in a tightly sealed bag to hold in the smell. I unlock my trunk to remove my trusted old friend, the baseball bat I brought back the other day from my secret house. I double-check my pockets to make sure that I have my lighter and my matches with me. Checking my phone, I’d say they should be back within the next thirty minutes. He knew I was coming. He will be foaming at the mouth for the papers from Chase that will secure his money. Of course, there is nopaperwork, and I have no doubt my loyal man will vouch for me to the lawyers. Then we can perhaps leave and travel the world. Lay him out on a bed of money while I fuck him to within an inch of his life. We’ll be stuck together like glue. He only needs me, and I intend on keeping it that way.
There are several large manicured hedges that line the front of the house. I crouch behind the one farthest from the door and await their return.
Holding my bat against my chest, a car approaches. It’s Linc’s. As predicted, he and my father are together. They don’t linger for too long and head toward the front door of the house. When they step inside, I leap out of the hedge.
“What the fuck is that smell?” my dad shouts, looking around him in confusion.
Linc is behind him, so that's where I start. I swing my bat and hit him over the head with one swift blow, causing him to fall to a heap on the floor. Fuck, that felt good.
“Noah!” Dad shouts, but before he can grab his gun, I punch him hard across the jaw, causing him to become unsteady on his feet. Using his distraction to my benefit, I slam the end of my bat into his stomach. He falls onto his knees, groaning in pain, clutching onto his stomach with both hands.
Bending down, I remove his gun and do the same with Linc, along with their cell phones. I toss them out the front door into the hedges and close the door. Linc is unconscious or dead, I’m not sure. Dad is lying on his back, complaining about the pain.
In the entrance hall, there are two white roman pillars that give a grandiose vibe to the room. With the rope I acquired from the garage, I drag my father who’s more of a flight risk because he is awake, up onto his feet. As I try to manhandle him over to one of the pillars, he struggles. I hold him steady and punch his stomach, which after the bat, must fucking hurt. It takes the wind out of him, and because he is slouching in my hold, unableto stand upright, I drag him under his arms to the pillar and force him into standing with his back to the post. Wrapping the rope repeatedly around his middle, firmly securing him in place, he starts to bitch and threaten me like he has any leverage now.
“I’m going to kill you for this, you little fuck!”
“Sure you are,” I say as I secure the rope in a tight knot.
Linc is harder to move. Not only is he bigger than my dad, he’s a dead weight. But not dead, though. I catch the rise and fall of his chest. Because of him being unconscious, I tie him to the other pillar in a seated position, fastening the rope around his chest and encasing his arms under it.
Standing back, I absorb the vision in front of me. It’s a fucking masterpiece. Most people don’t get how creative you can be when killing. I really think this is a skill I excel at. I bet their charred bodies will be more exquisite than their living ones. The image in my head of them screaming while covered in flames is something I will treasure for the rest of my life. Not many get to experience this kind of beauty.
“You always were a sick little cunt, you make me sick,” my father spews.
Blah blah blah.
“Yep. Is it me or is it cold in here?” I fake ponder, enjoying this way too much.
“You’ll never get away with this. The cops will find you, you’ll be their first suspect,” he bellows.
“Unlikely. We have no relationship and with the enemies you’ve made, it could be any fucking body.”
I let my father’s sputtering of bullshit fade to the background as my eyes hone in on Linc. The pictures flash like a camera shot of when he touched Chase, how he hurt him. Like shutters coming down on my vision, red fury replaces clarity. I will make him feel everything.
With tunnel vision focus, I pick up one of the jerry cans and return to Linc. Crouching at his feet, so it doesn’t splash all over my clothes, I slowly pour a small amount of the gasoline over his sprawled out legs, but only below the knee, just enough to wet his pants. This should wake the fucker up.
I bring his legs together, and retrieve the matches from my pocket as I look down on him. I’ve always wondered what burning flesh would smell like. Just as I light the match, his eyelids flutter, perfect timing. Moving back, I flick the lit match onto his legs and bam! A toasty leg bonfire ignites. But the best part? His screams. I can’t stop my laugh at the sound of his screams, like thousands of cries morphed into one that come from the very pits of hell. He tries to put out the flames by hitting his legs to the ground and bashing them together, but it's of no use with him being tightly strapped to the pillar.
“You should never have touched him,” I say, but with his high-pitched wails, I’m not sure he heard me.
I look to the side and my father’s mouth is agape, his face ashen, watching his best friend of thirty years burn slowly. I’m not sure how long the fire will continue as it's slowly progressing up his pants. A long tortuous death, I suspect. But it’ll be over soon. I walk around to the side of the hallway and begin to douse all the furniture and walls with the remaining gas. Keeping a distance from Linc as I don’t want to ignite myself.
Strategically placing some extra sheets and linen I brought from upstairs, I lay them around the center of the room and cover those in gasoline too. All that's left is my father. Linc’s screams have reduced to whimpering cries and the stench emanating off of him is sickly. It's putrid and sweet, like how burnt leather would smell.
“Any last words?” I ask him.
“I’ve always hated you. Your mother should’ve aborted you like I wanted!” he shouts.
“Are those honestly your final words? Because it was a waste of breath if you thought they would affect me. Told you that you wouldn't see me coming, old man.”
As I move away from him, my mother crosses my mind, making me assess my father again, and a smile stretches across my face while I remove my knife from my waistband. “Mom came to see me before she left. She asked me to do something for her, and while I hate her, I think it’s an appropriate request.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Squatting in front of him, I lift the knife above his right thigh and with every ounce of strength I have, I slam it into the hard muscle, causing a loud scream to leave his bullshit mouth. Drool drips from his lips as he wiggles around his restraints. I remove the knife and put it in front of his face, letting the blood drip onto his chest as his weary eyes lock onto mine.
