The Book of Agony

=Chapter I=
Ben only wanted the party to end. He’d become accustomed to isolation, and only paid any real—if distant—attention to his two friends Thomas and Jay. But a full-blown birthday party was… simply too much for Ben to handle. Especially since the only one he genuinely wanted to be there would never be able to make it.
“Hey-a, sport,” Ben’s father, a lanky dark-haired man by the name of Dave Ross, chuckled. “Why the long face? It’s your birthday! Let loose a little, quit being such a sourpuss. Not every day you turn twelve.” He was wearing his typical white button-up shirt and tie.
Ben forced a slight upwards motion from the corners of his lips and glanced down awkwardly. He did not want Dave to go on about his “mood” again.
“What, did you not like your presents? Let me guess, we got you the wrong Harry Potter book. Damnit, I knew Penny was wrong about it being The Prisoner of Casket-ban or whatever it was. Should’ve gone with the Wizard’s Stone.”
Ben’s mother, Penny, peeped her head out from behind Dave’s back and gave him a disapproving look before returning to her conversation with Ben’s uncle Larry, who was a local deputy.
“No, sir,” Ben mumbled, “It’s the right one. A-and I like it a lot, I liked all the presents. It’s just….”
“What?”
“I… I wish Daniel could be here.”
Ben noticed that Daniel’s mother, Irene, shot a sad glance towards him.
 “Ah, well, he can’t, sport,” Dave continued. “And the sooner you get over it, the better. Won’t help you any to keep moping around all the time.”
“Um, excuse me,” Irene spoke, her brown eyes ablaze. “But what happened to my son was a tragedy, and Ben is going through grief, and so are myself, my family, and everyone who knew him. I would expect a little more respect from you.”
Dave shuffled his feet and said, “Well, yeah. I mean, it’s sad and all. He was a good kid. But really, what use is it to be letting it all get to you? Out of sight, out of mind, eh?”
Irene was about to slap him across the face but thought better of it. And not wishing to get caught up in the middle of the altercation—as his father commonly tried to involve Ben whenever he was nearby—Ben quickly snuck away and went over to the kitchen to get another bowl of ice cream.
Only a few weeks prior, the body of an eleven-year-old boy was found in their town of Woodgrove, a suburb south of Nashville and slightly north of Maysburg. The discovery of the boy’s body was shocking, as it had been discovered in a field one night by a passerby who mistook it for roadkill at first glance. It was deemed a hit-and-run.
That boy was Daniel Mortley and was Ben’s best friend out of their group of four. The news had hit hard, and nothing had been the same quite since. Ben had withdrawn from his previously thriving social life and chose instead to read books in the small closet attached to his playroom. Even at school, his relationship with his other two friends, Jay and Thomas, had grown distant and they got along almost like acquaintances rather than good friends.
“Hey, what was your dad saying to you back there?” It was Ben’s cousin Mike.
“Oh, um…. That I need to get over stuff.”
He wiped off his glasses and pushed back his long, thick brown hair. Mike was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his early twenties with a plethora of tattoos and baggy eyes.
“Jackass. Was about to say something to him, but I guess that’s taken care of for me.”
He nodded towards the front of the living room, where Dave was trying to shimmy his way unsuccessfully through the front door, blocked by Irene. She wasn’t yelling, but Ben knew an ass-chewing when he saw one. Dave did it plenty.
“Yeah, I heard about what happened. Larry told me. How do you feel about your dad?”
Ben looked around awkwardly, hoping that his mother wasn’t nearby to witness such a direct question.
“I dunno. I don’t really… know him that well.”
“Hmph. You know, he reminds me a bit of my grandad. He acted nice to your face, but deep down, he was a coward. And I’m sorry about what happened, man. If you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here for you. You know, I lost a friend once, too. I was about fourteen, I think. So, I know how it feels. Your mom should have my number.”
Ben’s shoulder was suddenly grasped by a firm fist, and he looked up to see the tan, grey-haired face of his grandpa Charlie looking cheerfully at him and Mike.
“You’re not trying to teach the boy physics again, are ya Mike?” Charlie chuckled. “Though, you should keep Mike in mind if you ever need help in math and science.”
“Nah, just makin’ sure he’s okay.”
“Oh,” Charlie said, taking his hand off of Ben’s shoulder. “Right. A real shame. An even bigger shame that my son is over there making a big fool of himself. This is a party, we’re here to forget about our problems just for a little bit.”
“Say, where are your friends, Ben?” his grandmother, Helen, asked.
“I think Granny Helga is showing them pictures of dad as a kid,” Ben replied as he reached for the chocolate mint ice cream on the counter.
Mike twirled his finger by his temple and ambled out onto the back porch, where Ben saw him light a cigarette.
Eventually, Penny somehow managed to calm down Daniel’s parents, after which was left an air of tension that was almost suffocating. Helga fell asleep, and so Ben, Jay, and Thomas were left free to run around their small back yard like the old times, even if it did feel a bit lonely without their fourth member. Dave stayed holed up in the garage for the remainder of the time, not re-emerging until everyone except Helga had left.
“Alright, sport,” he announced as he changed into his dress clothes in the kitchen. “Your mother and I are going out tonight. Helga will stay here to watch you; we probably won’t be back until late. And be in bed by the time we get home. Got that, Ma?”
Grandma Helga nodded her head and ambled over to the couch and turned on the television. Dave sighed and grabbed Penny by the arm and shuffled out the door. Ben walked over to the refrigerator to grab a Sprite. Helga was already engrossed in her unadmitted obsession with Stargate. This was Ben’s cue to leave the vicinity lest he die of boredom, and already it seemed to him that this episode would be excruciatingly dull.
Grabbing his sparkling new copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Ben made his way upstairs to his playroom, which was still strewn with the Legos he still played with. The wall on the far side of the door faced the street, and looking at the room from the doorway, on the right wall was a small door that led into a sort of cubby hole with a light in it. It was here that Ben spent most of his time, reading books to escape into fantasies of the wonderful and macabre. For many people, the small space littered with neatly stacked books would have induced a keen sense of claustrophobia, but for Ben, it was like a comforting womb, a place where he could both be himself and be protected, and even cry, if need be, as he’d done on several occasions recently.
Ben had a lot of books, perhaps even an obscene amount. There was nothing he enjoyed more than living the exciting life of another. But there was nothing he hated more than having to return to his unexciting reality where parents weren’t to be trusted and friendships sailed away faster than he could grasp onto. Time had seemed to blink by since the accident.
Ben was not disappointed with his present. The new Harry Potter book was more than he had hoped for, and before he knew it, two hours had passed, and he was already a third of the way through. Sighing, he reluctantly set it down so that he could get one last bowl of ice cream before bed and watch some reruns of The Joy of Painting while his grandmother snored and drooled in the armchair, as she always did. Tucking it under his arm, he noticed a book that he’d not seen before sitting atop a stack that’d been out of view. Thinking perhaps it was left as a surprise gift, he picked it up and furled his brows in confusion.
The book’s cover was made of a strange, black, spongy material. A shiny crimson set of eyes and teeth was stamped onto the cover, the appearance of which unsettled Ben. On the side, stamped in the same shiny crimson was inscribed The Book of Agony. Intrigued, Ben opened the book to a random page and saw the paper was a blotchy grey. The left page was covered in minuscule cursive, while the right page was taken up by a brownish-red watercolor painting that smelled of pennies. A small moan of shock escaped Ben’s lips as he stared at the painting.
Staring him in the eyes was a grotesquely realistic depiction of an old woman with her jaw split in two with needles stuck carelessly in her eyes. Instinctively, Ben thrust the book at the wall and began to back away towards the door. But he didn’t get out of the cubby hole before he unintentionally glanced back and saw it landed face up, turned to a page at the end. He saw for an instant the face of Daniel Mortley staring up at the ceiling. Ben didn’t bother to look any further, he immediately clamped his eyes shut. Ben grabbed the book, slammed it shut, and raced to his room, where he threw it under his bed. Why he decided to put it there, Ben did not know, nor did the thought occur to him.
Thinking of his grandmother, he stumbled back downstairs to try to find some comfort, but he was disappointed to see that her head was thrust back, drool and snores oozing from her mouth. Not wanting to wake her despite the terror he felt, he instead went to the kitchen and made himself a large bowl of ice cream and sat down on the couch. He knew he should wake his grandmother, but the thought made a ball of anxiety rise in his pit. He imagined it like a ball of snakes wriggling around down there. He was always wary of disturbing adults. His parents rarely took to it well, even on good days.
“—family is still missing, though authorities suspect foul play at an abandoned office building at the edge of Woodgrove, where they were reportedly last seen. And to add a disturbing layer to the mystery, authorities found evidence of arson as well as copious amounts of blood, a strange contraption, as well as the remains of what is believed to be some kind of shrine.”
Stargate had turned off at some point while Ben was upstairs, and the evening news was now playing. But the last thing he wanted to see was the footage of the possible murder scene. He scanned the room for the remote, but to his dismay, he found it barely sticking out from his grandmother’s ass, and unfortunately, the buttons on the TV itself didn’t work. It was an old piece of shit, Dave always said. But he refused to ever save up for a new one when “they had a perfectly fine one already.” The built-in VCR player didn’t even work, it just devoured the tape like a savage monster.
Ben set down the ice cream and tried to gently pull out the TV remote from Helga’s ass without detection, but she gave a loud snort the second he laid fingers on it. He resigned himself to having to suffer through the dismal news station, trying instead to distract himself with his new book.
“—the killer of 15-year-old Sullivan Jones is still at large. The young boy was found murdered last March in the Maysburg Juvenile Detention Center under unknown circumstances. Authorities suspect it may be related to the murder spree we saw last winter, though they have yet to determine if the murder spree is also related to the disappearance of the family in Woodgrove. Here’s Larry Ross of the Woodgrove Police Department on the subject.”
“Yes, it is extremely upsetting to the community, and we are just as disturbed as everyone else about the past year’s murders. But we don’t believe that the same killer is likely responsible for all of them. We suspect that the disappearance is. And rest assured, we are working extremely hard to bring justice to these perpetrators. But in the meantime, exercise caution, especially when alone.”
The news was wrapped up, and after a few minutes of commercials, a documentary about forest fires came on, and Ben was finally able to escape.
  *    *     *  *
“Hey Daniel, you wanna climb to the top of the school?” Ben asked as he, Daniel, Thomas, and Jay were aimlessly riding around the summertime streets on their bikes, not a care in the world.
“Shit…” Daniel said as he gave Ben a disapproving glance. “Why the hell would I do that?”
“What?” Thomas shouted from ahead as the suburban copycat houses flew by, the wind rushing in their ears.
“Ben wants to climb on top of the fucking school!” Daniel yelled.
“Fuck that,” Thomas exclaimed.
“Well, I say fuck yeah!” Daniel answered back, smirking at Ben. His dark brown hair seemed to be carried away into nothingness by the wind.
“What’s going on?” Jay asked as he came even with Ben and Daniel.
“We’re gonna climb the school,” Daniel answered.
“Oh, sweet. Bet there’ll be cool stuff up there.”
They rode on, not stopping until they had reached Woodgrove Elementary, the sun still hanging in the same spot overhead.
“Man, I dunno about this,” Thomas whined as they parked their bikes behind the cafeteria. “There’s a couple of cars parked out front. What if somebody calls the cops?”
“Fuck that,” Daniel said. “Don’t be a pussy again, we’ve talked about this. We’re going up there.”
“Yeah, don’t be a party pooper,” Ben chided.
“Bet you poop yourself whenever you see yourself in the mirror,” Jay commented, heading over to the dumpster with the air vent above it.
“Is that the way up?” Ben asked as Jay mounted the dumpster and put his hand on one of the slats in the vent.
“I think. I dunno.”
“Well, hurry up!” Daniel cried. I wanna get up there, too!”
“Alright, alright. Just gimme a second.”
Jay swiftly climbed the air vent and pushed his way over the roof, wiping the dirt off his hands and the sweat from his forehead.
“Hey… I really think this is a bad idea. Can we just like go get some snacks or something?”
Daniel scoffed loudly. “Shut up, Thomas the Train. I’m going up there, too.”
Thomas scrunched his face. “That’s not cool, man. I’m just trying to look out for you guys.”
“Then why don’t you stay down here and keep watch, then?” Ben asked as he went up behind Daniel in case he fell. “Alright, you got it, Daniel?”
“Yeah,” his friend affirmed as he began to climb the air vent. Ben stood onto the dumpster. When Daniel was about two feet away from the roof.
“Dude! Cops!”
Ben could see a panic in Daniel’s eyes as he lost his grip and started to fall towards him. Vaguely, Ben heard Jay yell something at Thomas, but he was too focused on making sure he could catch Daniel. Daniel seemed to fall in slow-motion, and Ben too seemed to have a slowed, frustrating sense of movement. Too slow to catch Daniel as his head smacked the corner of the metal lid and his body slammed into concrete. Stumbling, Ben too fell off, his back scraping against the concrete.
“Jesus Christ, there’s blood everywhere!” Jay cried as he raced to Daniel’s limp body.
“Oh, God! Oh, God!”
Ben didn’t move from where he was but only stared at the splashes of blood surrounding Daniel.
“I didn’t mean for this! I didn’t mean for this! Christ, I was lying when I said there were cops. I just wanted to get out of here!”
Ben froze as he watched Daniel raise his face to look at him, his skull cracked open and an eye out of place.
 
*  *    *     *  *
Ben awoke to the slam of a car door. The TV was still going. He noticed his body was cold and sweaty, his eyes full of tears.
“I tried everything! I tried Drano, coat hangers, heroin, legal abortion! Nothing worked!”
Ignoring the TV and remembering that he was supposed to be in bed, Ben raced into the kitchen and threw his bowl into the sink. He could wait until later tell them about the book.
“Nine out of ten doctors agree that child pregnancy is even worse before puberty. Please call this number to donate today.”
Ben could hear the key in the front door, but he couldn’t get to the stairs quick enough before his father was staring him in the face.
“What the hell are you still doing up? Ma?”
Helga gave a snort and woke up with a kind of flail, her shirtfront soaked in drool.
“Ma, did you fall asleep again?”
Helga shook her head violently and noticed that whatever was playing on the TV was something that needed to be changed before Dave noticed. Reaching under her ass to grab the remote, she tried to change the channel but only succeeded in blasting the volume through the roof.
“AND NOW PLEASE JOIN US AS WE DISCOVER HOW ONE MAN CONTRACTED SYPHILIS BY STICKING HIS WHOLE HEAD UP A—”
Dave had grabbed the remote from Helga and turned it off himself, shooting icy glares towards her and Ben. Ben noticed that his face was unusually red and that he seemed to have trouble standing upright, and the same with Penny.
“What… in G-God’s name… were you watching?” he slurred.
Helga shook her head witlessly and Ben simply tried to ease his way up the stairs, which were directly in front of the door.
Dave shook his head and sighed. “Ma, we’ve talked about falling asleep every time you babysit.”
Helga stared blankly at him for a second before she snatched up her purse along with the photo album of Dave’s baby photos and waddled out the door. Ben’s parents stared after him for a moment before Dave waved him silently upstairs and Penny told him to go to bed, muttering about how they should take away his stupid books.
But Ben couldn’t get the final image of Daniel in the dream out of his mind, staring up at him… his face bloodied, his eye jutting out and staring into his eyes. What really happened that summer afternoon had been much happier: Thomas had falsely announced that cops were coming, and Ben had caught Daniel safely as he fell from above. But the nightmare had been vivid. At long last, he managed to fall back asleep with tears in his eyes, and he dreamed of red rivers and burning snow.
=Chapter II=
Ben woke up that morning feeling exhausted, though he did not know why. Despite the fright he’d suffered the night before, he did not once think about The Book of Agony, nor Daniel, for that matter. Not that he felt happy, necessarily, or that he suddenly became more sociable. No, in those regards he was in a definite state of decline. His parents never noticed, of course, though the Sunday following the birthday party, while at church with his parents and grandparents (who on occasion would go to church with them), his grandparents—Penny’s parents that is—noticed that something was amiss.
“Hey, Ben, you… okay?” Helen asked him as they were standing up to leave, the church a soft cacophony of noise as people gathered their things.
Ben quietly nodded his head, eyes cast at his old penny loafers. In each he had placed one of the coins in the little slit for good luck.
“Well, how ’bout some ice cream before we head back to your place?” Charlie asked as he put on his jacket.
Ben shrugged his shoulders and said, “I guess so.”
Charlie gave him a warm smile and leaned over to Dave and Penny.
“Hey Penny, we’re gonna stop for ice cream with Ben on the way back. That okay?”
“If it’ll get him to wipe that look off of his face, then sure,” she answered.
Charlie gave a goofy thumbs-up to Ben, who forced himself to smile, and they headed outside to their old truck.
“Hey, honey, where is it, again?” Charlie asked as he put the car into reverse in the parking lot.
“I think it’s on Bakker Pike,” she said.
“Sounds about right,” he returned. He gave a sly look towards Ben. “We may or may not go there more than we should.”
He turned on the radio and pulled out of the church’s parking lot.
“And the hangman plays the mandolin before he goes to sleep. And the last thing on his mind is the Wild-Eyed boy imprisoned ‘neath the covered wooden shaft….”
They went inside the sweet-smelling store about fifteen minutes later and waited patiently in line as a green-haired girl took their orders.
“So, how’s school going?” Helen asked after they sat down at their table.
Ben shrugged his shoulders and mumbled, “Good.”
“That’s not what your mother told us,” Charlie rebutted. “She said your grades aren’t doing so hot.”
Ben could feel his face turn red and he stared down at his ice cream. He used to make straight A’s.
“Ben, honey it’s okay,” Helen soothed. “It’s been rough lately, I know.”
Helen rested her hand on his, and Ben looked into her eyes to see not disappointment or anger, but sadness.
“It’s okay, sweetie. We’re here for you.”
“I know,” he murmured, not sure how to respond.
“Ben, you’re more than a grandson to us. You’re more like a son.” Charlie’s voice had lost its joviality. “And we want you to be happy. And I know you’re in grief. Death is a tricky thing to cope with. And we’re not gonna tell you to turn to God or anything, but we do ask that you turn to us if you ever need to.”
A tear ran down Ben’s cheek, but he was too embarrassed to wipe it away and draw attention to it. Helen did it for him anyways.
“Ben, it’s okay to be sad.”
“I know,” he said. They both smiled at him.
“Is there anything you want to talk about?” she asked.
Ben started to shake his head but thought of the dream he’d had.
“What is it, son?” Charlie asked.
“It’s just… on my birthday, my parents went out on a date after everyone left, and I had this dream.” He paused for a moment, trying to think of the right words. “And in it, me and my friends were riding around on our bikes, and I suggested we go on top of the school because I thought it might be fun.
“But when we got there, my friend Thomas tried to stop us because he was scared of somebody calling the police on us. But we ignored him. And my friend Jay went up first, and then Daniel started to climb up as well. I climbed on top of the dumpster underneath him in case he fell, and then Thomas told us that he saw cops coming, and Daniel fell. That actually happened last summer, except in real life I caught ‘im. But in the dream, I didn’t, and he—he hit his head on the dumpster and fell to the ground. And there was blood everywhere, and he wasn’t moving.
“But right before I woke up, he looked right at me, and he had a hole in his head and his eye was all popped out. And I can’t stop thinking about it, because that’s how he looked when they… when they… when….” Ben shook his head and tried to stop his chin from quaking before they noticed, but Helen came around the table and held him, and he couldn’t stop himself, not even when people began to stare.
“Shh, it was only a dream, sweetie. It was only a dream.”
“Hey, Ben, you wanna go out to the car? Think we’ll have a little more privacy.”
They went out to the car, where Ben was comforted by his grandparents, but was reluctant to go back home, and saddened when they had to leave.
The next two weeks saw Ben’s humor sapped away only to be replaced by a total apathy, leaving him in almost emotionless. He wasn’t depressed, but simply uninterested. Even the new book he’d been so excited about had become dull, being so much a chore to read that he instead put it away and chose instead to sit by the window in his playroom and pretend to observe his surroundings. It had been raining lately, and he enjoyed watching the fat droplets slide down the glass. Even when it didn’t rain, he found he enjoyed the overcast tone the sky had taken up with the onset of autumn. Before, he would have thought it was gloomy, but now he found the cloudy skies to be much like a warm, comforting blanket.
Sometimes he would try to think about things, but no thoughts seemed to be worthy of his time. The only thing of any real interest to him was an increasing sense that he was never alone, that something was always glaring at the back of his head. Eventually, he found himself thinking again of the book, but try as he might, he couldn’t push it under the bed of his mind. He felt that it was somehow responsible for the restless invisible eyes that followed him everywhere. He started to become paranoid, frequently throwing his gaze behind him only to find that nothing seemed to be amiss. But he would not read that damn book.
Then the nightmares came.
At first, he couldn’t recall what terrors kept sending him headfirst and shivering into the night air of his bedroom at odd hours, but as time wore on, he could remember them with increasing clarity. They weren’t unlike the nightmare he’d suffered on his birthday, and indeed all crouched under the same dark umbrella: every night, another positive memory he’d shared with Daniel would be tainted by the events being gruesomely twisted to encompass him dying or suffering in ways Ben would never have thought possible. And as the days wore on, they began to creep into his daily life by forcing him into an unwilling slumber, never leaving him to rest nor live peacefully.
At the same time, though, his thoughts kept being forced towards that wretched book, until eventually he could not stand it any longer. His willpower had been ground away, and in Ben’s mind, there was no other choice but to sit down and read it, cover to cover. Even if it made him sick. Especially the last page. But he just couldn’t bring himself to tell his parents, even though he knew he desperately needed to. It was several weeks before he finally mustered up the courage.
“What in Sam Hill have you been watching on TV?” Dave demanded during breakfast one December morning after Ben had described a chapter about a man being drowned in his own blood. After reading it, Ben had felt as though he couldn’t contain himself. He simply needed to tell somebody, to get help from someone who could set things right.
“Just normal cartoons, Dad,” he replied. “But I’m not talking about the TV. I was talking about the book with the pictures in it.”
“Davie,” his mother called from the kitchen, “did Ben steal a copy of Hustler from the school library again?”
“No, honey, he’s not talking about nudie magazines, he’s talking about—” he stopped and peered at him over an expansive newspaper. “What were you talking about?”
Ben stared at him incredulously. He’d been talking for at least ten minutes about something that had really been upsetting him for quite a while by this point. But instead of repeating himself, Ben simply led his parents upstairs to his bedroom, so that he could simply show it to them. The only problem was that it was nowhere to be found.
School that day was unusually normal for Ben. Walking home from the bus stop, his mind somewhat eased by the blissfully dull day, he could see that both of his parents’ cars were parked in the driveway. However, when he went inside, there were no signs of life whatsoever.
His parents were usually busy when he got home from school, but no lights were on anywhere in the house. Confused, he tried calling their cells from the home phone in the kitchen but was only greeted by their curt and slightly rude voicemails. Unsettled by this point, Ben decided to check upstairs, nervously glancing in each room until he was in front of the playroom.
A pit was forming in Ben’s stomach. He tried to ignore the creaking of the carpeted floor as he approached the door, which was closed for some reason.
The room was empty, and dead silent at that. It was eerily darker in there than the rest of the house, too, as the quickly fading winter light struggled to squirm through the closed blinds. A quick glance-over gave him nothing, but there was still the cubbyhole and the attic left to check, as he’d made sure to check all the closets, just in case. If they weren’t there… then what? He figured he’d figure that out once it got to that point, which he had a sneaking suspicion might happen.
Ben slowly eased across the room, apprehensive. In his state, Ben had forgotten to turn the light on, and it was all the way across the room by the door. He was by the half-door in the wall that opened onto the attic, and he didn’t want to backtrack.
Oh well, he thought.
Then he flung open the door.
A great crash erupted from inside the attic from behind him across the room, and immediately the door to the playroom was slammed shut with terrifying force, causing the walls to quake. It happened so fast, that he didn’t even notice the near-total darkness that swept across the room. He didn’t even realize the door had been closed until he flung himself across the room and frantically tried to twist the locked doorknob.
Then the black silence took hold of him.
The attic was attached to the left side of the playroom, opposite from the cubbyhole, and was accessed by a half-door. Ben never went into the attic, nor had he ever been curious about its contents in the slightest. One of his earliest memories had always been of his father forcing him to watch a horror movie about a monster that lived in the attic, and ever since he’d always been terrified by the thought of entering it, despite spending the majority of his time in close proximity to it.
But Ben knew that there was something in the attic now, something real. Something he was locked in there with. And despite the silence, his heart boomed and thudded rapidly in his ears like a drum, and his sharp shallow breath was a whirlwind of sound. His eyes remained locked on the door in front of him that led to the hallway.
Even when he heard the door to the attic creaking slowly behind him, groaning like some monstrous demon.
He stood there, frozen in place, imagining pale, slimy hands reaching out silently towards him, ready to wrap their skeletal fingers around his throat. Instead, he heard something else.
It was the sound of a woman weeping softly. The sound of his mother.
“Ben…. Ben…. I just want my baby…. Please, please give me back Ben….”
“Mom?” he whispered, but there was no answer.
Ben turned around and could vaguely make out the open doorway to that long, narrow room that was somehow even darker than the rest of the room. He silently tried to flick the lights on but to no avail.
“Mom? Mom?” he whispered again, though to no reply. It sounded as though she was all the way in the back of the attic. Drenched in sweat, he finally mustered up the courage to venture into the black abyss.
He forced his feet to move forward and tried to ignore the goosebumps sending icy shivers down his body. He kept forcing his legs to move, until eventually, he stood just within the attic.
“Mom?” he repeated in a hushed voice.
“My baby… that’s all I ask…. I just want Ben…”
“Mom!” he hissed. “I’m right here! It’s Ben!”
“B-Ben?” she croaked. “Ben, is that really you? Oh, thank God, I—no, no, NO!”
He heard a short-lived shriek followed by what sounded like a large sack being slammed against the wall. It crumpled into a pathetic heap on the floor.
Ben stifled a sob and clenched his teeth, eyes wide and stinging, trying to penetrate the absolute darkness.
From the back of the attic came a scratchy, quiet growl, followed by a faint click behind him from the door being gently closed.
“Give it to us,” a high, raspy voice hissed not a mere two feet away from Ben’s face.
“Yes,” a second voice growled from behind, gravelly and guttural. “We know of the book.”
Ben could vaguely sense that they were closing in on him, cornering him.
“Where is it?” the creature in front spat.
No words or thoughts could have become of Ben in that moment. He’d lost all reason and was simply in a state of pure terror.
“Tell us!” the thing behind him roared.
Tears escaped Ben’s frozen eyes and his muscles cramped as he crouched in the attic, unmoving.
An ear-rupturing shriek exploded within the room, and Ben’s torso was seized by powerful arms that whirled him around. He saw a blinding flash of light, and—
“Scared ya, didn’t we, sport?” his father guffawed idiotically, ruffling Ben’s sweat-soaked hair.
Ben didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at his father’s face. He simply shoved him away as hard as he could and stormed out the attic and through the now unlocked door, slamming his own bedroom door shut and locking it from the inside.
“Hey, what the hell, Ben? It was a prank; you don’t need to act like a little fucking bitch about it!” Dave shouted from the other side of the door.
He heard the doorknob rattle momentarily before his father began to beat on the door again.
“How dare you lock the door on me! How fucking dare, you! You better open this right now! You hear me? You open it right fucking now!”
“Shut the fuck up!” Ben screamed, hurling a baseball at the door.
“Excuse me? Fucking excuse me?”
“I said shut up, Dave!”
“I am gonna beat that little ass when I get in there! Now you open this goddamn door NOW!”
“David!” Penny shrieked from the stairs.
Ben thrust his fist into the wall, flinching when it actually stung a little bit. He wanted to make a hole, but he didn’t put enough power behind his punch.
“Ben, open this door, or I’m gonna bust it down and break your fucking jaw, you little shit!”
“DAVID!”
“Shut up!”
“Step away from the door, David, you’re out of control.”
“I’d like to see you try and make me, you fuckin’ whore. I’m always the bad guy to you, aren’t I? It’s all ‘Dave, don’t yell at Ben! Dave don’t scream at the telemarketer and call her a retard in front of Ben! Dave, Dave, Dave!”
“Dave, I’m serious!”
There was a hefty pause outside the room, the air heavy and suffocating.
“Fuck it. Fine. Ben, get the fuck to bed. I’ll deal with you in the morning.”
Nothing more was said as he stormed down the stairs. Ben almost expected his mother to come in to comfort him, but he only heard a quiet sigh before her softer footsteps followed his father’s. Later he could hear arguing and a sharp cry of pain from his mother. Ben would discover a fresh hole in his parents’ bedroom door the next morning.
Ben didn’t sleep that night.
=Chapter III=
Dazzling winter light streamed through Ben’s bedroom window, and a cardinal sang on the tree outside, as though nothing in Ben’s world was amiss. Ben scowled at the window and shut the blinds, insulted by the outward cheeriness that was in such contrast to the anger he felt within. He went over to his nightstand and turned off the alarm that hadn’t sounded yet, eagerly awaiting the moment when he could step onto the bus and escape the tension from the cataclysmic night before.
With a yawn, he rubbed his stuffy sleep-deprived eyes, changed, and got everything ready for the day.
“Ben, honey, breakfast is ready!” Penny called from below.
His stomach did a kickflip.
“Ben! Don’t ignore your mother. Not when it’s… maple-syrup pancake day!”
Ben did a double take. Had his father just tried to entice him with pancakes? Knowing that if he ignored his parents any longer, he might evoke the wrath displayed the night before, he reluctantly slunk out of his bedroom and drearily made his way downstairs and into the dinette.
“Good mooorning!” his mother sang from the kitchen, where she was washing pans and silverware, a dark bruise on her arm.
He sat down opposite Dave, who was hidden behind a ginormous newspaper and already dressed for work.
“D’ja sleep well, sport?” he asked off-handedly.
Ben felt truly mocked.
“Well, how ‘bout it, son?” he added, with a sharp look from over the top of the paper. It was little difficult to take him seriously when the headline read: “MAN CLAIMS DOG GAVE HIM MOUTH CANCER” with a picture of a tiny old man holding the leash of a colossal Tibetan Mastiff.
Ben scoffed and took a bite from his mountain of pancakes.
“Gee, I dunno. You tell me.”
“What are you talking about, dearie?” Penny asked from the sink, a fake plastic smile stretched across her face.
“Yeah, what are you talking about, Ben?” Dave demanded. “I sure don’t know what you’re talking about. You might wanna check your memory.”
Ben stared at him a moment before tentatively nodding his head.
“So,” Dave continued, “how ‘bout it, sport? Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good,” he smirked, taking a cocky sip of coffee.
“Didn’t let the bed bugs bite, did you?” Penny trilled, followed by a shrill laugh.
“No, ma’am.”
“Say, sport,” Dave said seriously after a moment, folding up his newspaper and leaning sternly across the table in a way that put Ben on edge. “How about I drive you to school today? Sound like a plan?”
“No,” Ben answered calmly. “I think I’ll ride the bus today.”
“But—"
“Dad, I want to ride the bus.”
Dave leaned back into his chair and tapped his fingers on the table in agitation for a moment before getting up.
 
*  *    *     *  *
A violent jerk of the bus yanked Ben out from his light slumber. The warm winter sunlight passing through the dusty window of the bus sent him into a much-needed doze. He glanced around himself for a moment before leaning his head against the window and closing his eyes, eager to fall back asleep.
Something seemed off.
He tried to ignore the feeling, but something tugged at his mind, something that shouldn’t be there, though he wasn’t sure what that was. Picking his head back up, he took in his surroundings more carefully, but his lungs suddenly took in a sharp breath and his blood turned to lead.
Daniel Mortley sat in the third row from the front, on the left-hand side of the bus, just where they used to sit before he’d been killed. He stared hard at Ben with features perfectly intact.
No, no it couldn’t be him. Surely it was just another nightmare, and the bus would crash in an instant, and Daniel would die before his eyes for the thousandth time. His eyes became hot and wet, and when he blinked tears rolled down.
But maybe—just maybe—if he could go up to Daniel and save him from whatever was about to happen, then he wouldn’t have to watch him die again.
Standing up with every ounce of courage, Ben ambled his way up the aisle and over to Daniel. But when he blinked, Daniel was gone, like a dull flame extinguished in the night.
A violent jerk of the bus yanked Ben from his slumber.
 
*  *    *     *  *
“You gonna eat that pork chop, Ben, or just let it rot?” Dave demanded over dinner that night.
Ben shrugged his shoulders and prodded at the porkchop absently.
“Well, you’re not getting up until you eat everything on your plate,” Dave added. “So, I’d go ahead and finish it now, so it doesn’t get cold.”
Ben didn’t say anything. He wasn’t listening. His mind was elsewhere, in the realm of dreams. He’d been in emotional distress all day, the shock of believing for a moment that Daniel had been there gnawed at his brain.
“Ben!” Penny shot, jerking Ben out of his trance. “Listen to your father!”
“What?”
“You better watch your tone,” Dave warned. “You’ve had a piss-poor attitude all damn day, and I don’t appreciate it. Do you have any idea how much we do for you? Do you even think about how we provide you with clothes, food, and a roof over your head? Heating? Electricity? A bed?”
Not knowing how he was expected to respond, Ben opened his mouth slightly and made an unsure kind of grunting noise.
“Guess it’s a ‘no’ then,” Penny muttered. With excessive force she stabbed her fork into her porkchop and ripped out a bite without even cutting it.
“What’s your damage, Ben?” Dave asked, his voice starting to get louder. “Are you still butthurt about that prank from last night? Christ, it’s called a fucking joke, Ben.”
“No, sir,” he mumbled.
“What, it wasn’t a joke? Well, I’m just flat out insulted now. Penny and I weren’t the best actors in our high school theatre class just to be told we didn’t give a good performance by some ten-year-old.”
“Twelve.”
“Do you know how much planning we had to do? How much we had to plan out because we thought it’d lighten you up a little?”
“I meant that what happened last night isn’t what’s wrong.”
“Oh, don’t give me that shit! I don’t believe it for one second after that little temper tantrum you threw about it. No appreciation! You know, I asked off early for that! Then we had to turn off all the lights and our cell phones—”
“Then just sit and wait around for you to come home—” Penny added.
“In separate rooms! I had to hide in that bathroom for like an hour while your mother sat in the closet, and then when you came home, I had to switch rooms without you noticing once you came upstairs.”
“And I had to keep the attic door cracked without you noticing and wait for you to open that closet thing in the playroom and knock over a box—”
“And then I had to immediately close the door and switch off the lights with the fuse box—I had to change the lock on that door, by the way, just so that it would lock from the outside—”
“And then I had to push open the attic door and get to the back of it without making any noise!”
“And then I had to wait for your mother’s cue and unlock the door and close it again in total darkness and silence and sneak up behind you. Do you see how much effort we had to put in? And you have the balls to say that it wasn’t a good joke? You know what, give me your plate. Go to bed right now, no dinner for you until you learn to appreciate the things we do for you.”
“That’s not what’s wrong, Dad!”
“Then what is it? Huh? Your little friend who got himself killed? Are you seriously fucking trying to tell me that you’re still upset about that? Because I don’t believe it at all, I think you’re just trying to get attention. Because I’ve lost some people in my day, and guess what? I get a little bummed out, I pay my respects at the funeral, and then I forget about them because they’re not in my life anymore. I move on and forget they ever fucking existed. I don’t piss and moan for three months afterwards, nor would I even if it was my own mother.”
Ben clenched his fists and said as evenly as he possibly could, “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
Dave threw his hands up and Penny threw her fork onto her plate.
“Fine. You wanna be a little brat? Then you’re grounded for two weeks. No TV, no phone calls with your friends, no reading, no nothing. You’re to come straight home after school, do your homework right here at the dinner table, and go straight to bed after dinner. Maybe then you’ll learn some goddamn respect. I dunno! Get the fuck out of my sight. And to think, we tried to be nice to you this morning with pancakes and shit. Why’re you still here? G’wone, git! Git! For fucks sake, Penny, I swear to God this kid never listens.”
          
*  *    *     *  * 
Ben piddled around in his silent room for the rest of the afternoon, not going to bed until he heard Penny come up the stairs to check if he was asleep or not. When he awoke the next morning, he was told he could have oatmeal, though he was reprimanded when he tried to add sugar to it.
With apprehension, he climbed the stairs of the bus forty-five minutes later, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t again be lulled to sleep. And even though he was certain that he hadn’t fallen asleep, Daniel appeared in the same seat, now glaring at him with a look of utter hatred. This frightened Ben, who, try as he might, could not convince himself that it was a dream.
But unlike the day before, he couldn’t muster the courage to go up to him, even if it had previously been a dream. But he couldn’t turn his eyes away, either, until when they at long last pulled into the school. He blinked, and Daniel was gone.
*  *    *     *  *
“Man, oh man, I hate the lunches here,” Jay scowled a few hours later as he cut up a piece of pork chop. “Hey, you think the pork chops taste like cheese, or is it just me?”
“I dunno, let me try some,” Ben said. He’d gone with a barbeque sandwich. “Yup.”
Jay shrugged and said, “I’m too hungry to care.”
“Eh, true,” Thomas agreed from across Ben and next to Jay. He’d been poking at a clump of wet mashed potatoes.
They sat in silence for a minute, staring down at their red plastic trays.
“Barbecue’s good,” Ben mumbled as Jay aimed his spoon to hit a girl with a pea the next table over.
“Nice shot,” Thomas complimented after it smacked her in the eye. “Hey, you okay, Ben? You look like something’s wrong.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You sure? You seemed upset yesterday, too.”
“Ben, what is it?” Jay asked earnestly.
“It’s just…. I’ve been having these nightmares every night about Daniel.”
Their faces grew stony.
“And… every time, he ends up dying right in front of me. Like, you guys remember when we tried to climb the school last summer, and how Daniel fell, and I caught him?”
“Yeah,” Thomas said, his cheeks turning red.
“Well, in this dream I didn’t catch him. His head hit the dumpster, and…. Yeah.”
Jay sighed heavily. “Jesus, man. No wonder, that’d mess me up too, having to see… that. Like, every night. God.”
Ben nodded his head and continued. “But yesterday, on the bus, I fell asleep and saw him sitting where we used to sit, staring at me. I tried to talk to him, but he disappeared. But… I’m not sure if I’m maybe starting to go crazy or if… if….”
“What is it?” urged Thomas.
Ben gulped and glanced around him. “Today… this morning… I didn’t fall asleep. Like, I know I didn’t. But… I saw him. Clear as day, I fucking saw him, but this time he was glaring at me. Like he wanted to slit my throat.”
Neither Jay nor Thomas said anything as they nervously scanned the cafeteria, scared that they would see the same thing. Ben joined them, and his heart froze when he saw Daniel sitting at an empty table behind them, scowling at him with utmost hatred. Ben quickly turned back to them and nodded his head to indicate to them where to look.
“What?” Thomas asked.
Ben nodded his head again, but they only stared at him in confusion.
“Behind me,” he hissed.
They both glanced at the empty table but gave him a puzzled look.
Ben turned back around himself, and sure enough, the specter of his friend was still there, still as a corpse.
“Do you not see him?” he asked, his hackles raising as chills raced down his body.
“No,” Jay said with a shake of his head. “Nobody’s at that table, Ben.”
“Are you sure you’re alright, man?”
Ben nodded his head, but when he looked back behind him, the table was empty.
He was glad that it was Friday, for at least now he would be safe from more morning encounters, even if it did mean being stuck at home. But at least he’d managed to sneak the new book he got for his birthday into his room without his parents noticing, though he was near the end of it, something he was sad to reach.
However, he was distraught to see that his torment was not done when, on the way back home, he spied Daniel in the same spot once more. He was emotionally exhausted… running on fumes. Ben couldn’t deal with this any longer and was angry at… whatever the hell it was shooting him death glares. He prepared to get up and talk to Daniel but was taken aback when Daniel stood up first and made his way down the aisle, his movement somehow unnatural, though Ben couldn’t quite place why.
“Why?” Daniel demanded. “Why didn’t you come with me that day?”
“I…. I….” Ben was taken aback. How could he have known he was hit by a car?
“If you had just gone with me to the store instead of sitting in your room, then I’d still be here. That man wouldn’t have made me get in the truck with him.”
Ben was paralyzed, and his mind was empty like an unearthed grave.
“Do you know how much he hurt me, Ben? How much pain I had to endure before I died?”
Ben slowly shook his head. He was confused.
“I wanted to die, Ben. And all because of you.” His voice sounded strangely hollow, not quite like Daniel’s had been. It was as if he’d become a shell inhabited by some other entity.
“I’m… sorry?” Ben whimpered. What was he talking about?
“’Sorry’ is not enough Ben. ‘Sorry’ can’t change the past. ‘Sorry’ can’t bring back the dead. And you’re dead to me, Ben. Deader than I am to you. And you’re gonna pay. You’re gonna pay dearly.”
Ben couldn’t see him clearly anymore. His vision had become hot and blurry, and the muscles in his mouth were cramped.
Daniel smirked.
“Tell me, Ben. You haven’t happened to see a certain book of mine, have you? A black book. A book with a picture of me in the back?”
“I… I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie to me, Ben. You can’t. I know you’ve seen it. Maybe you should look at it again, sometime.”
“What do y-you mean?”
He smirked again—an awful smirk that looked inhuman—and pointed two fingers at him like a gun.
“Only I,” he said, pretending to shoot him before going back to the seat up front.
Daniel once again resumed his glaring, but Ben could not meet his eyes. His heart had been ripped out, carved up with a knife, and shoved back into place upside down. The tears flowed freely, and he couldn’t make himself stay quiet. He didn’t care that the two girls next to him were staring at him in dismay.
“Hey, dillweed,” an older boy in the seat ahead of him snarled. “Would you mind shutting up? It really annoys me when I hear babies cry for their mommies.”
Ben glared at him but didn’t say anything. He only tried to dry off his face.
“Who were you talking to, anyways?”
Without thinking about it, he pointed at Daniel, who was wearing his dreadful smirk again.
“Nobody’s there, dumbass. What, is it your imaginary friend? Huh? Does bitch-boy McGee still play with his imaginary friends?”
“Shut up,” Ben growled.
“Aww, baby’s getting angwy. Does baby need a bottle?”
“I said, shut up.”
“Baby want mommy? Do you need mommy, baby bitch-boy?”
Ben stood up and took a step forward.
“What’s baby doing now? Is he gonna tell the bus dwiver?”
“No,” Ben corrected, ignoring the rock in his stomach. “I’m gonna do this, shit-head.”
He cocked his fist back and slammed it into the boy’s nose with a loud crack followed by a spray of blood over the kid’s mouth. Without thinking he found that he’d imitated the way Dave sometimes hit the wall.
“Ah, shit! God fuckin’ damnit!”
Ben didn’t give him a chance to recover, but instead punched him again in the face, and again and again.
“Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” a chorus cried out around him, though Ben didn’t take any notice. His vision was red, and his ears ringing.
“Hey, what’s goin’ on back there?” the bus driver demanded from the front, though this, too, was lost in Ben’s rage as he grabbed the kid’s head and smashed it into the window.
He was aware of a loud thud-thud-thud to his left, but he didn’t care. He took in one last swing before he felt someone much bigger than him pulling him away. Ben whirled around and decked the bus driver in the gut.
It felt too good to stop.
=Chapter IV=
“You broke his nose in three places!” Penny screeched.
“It only looked like one place to me,” Ben mumbled.
“A lobotomized bag of piss could tell you where it broke! His nose looked like somebody put a jackhammer to it.”
“What does ’lobotomized’ even mean?” he demanded.
“Oh, never mind!” she grumped.
After the bus driver had pulled Ben away, he patched the kid up and made them sit separately in the front two seats after bandaging the other kid’s nose with a first aid kit until they reached the school. The whole bus was furious with Ben for making them late to go home. When they got there, Ben and the older child were taken to the front office, where the other kid was taken to the nurse and Ben was taken to the principal’s office, both of Ben’s parents already there and the other’s mother also present. Somehow, Ben had been let off with a two-week bus suspension and a complimentary two weeks of in-school suspension. They were on the way back home now, with the winter night looming above. Trees blitzed past on either side; they were taking an ill-lit back road.
“Look,” Dave shot forcefully from the passenger seat, “you better damn well hope his parents don’t press charges, or your little ass is fuckin’ grass, you hear me? You fucked him up pretty bad, kid!”
“But he was being an asshole.”
At this, Dave reached around the seat and smacked him in the face.
“Watch your goddamn mouth!”
“But he was!” Ben protested.
“I don’t care!” he roared. “You don’t swear!”
“But you just—"
“He is an adult, Ben!” Penny yelled. “You’re only a kid.”
“Ben, when we get home, you march right upstairs and wash your mouth out with hand soap.”
“But Dad—"
“No buts!”
“But—"
“Not a word! Y’hear me?”
“Yes, sir,” Ben mumbled dejectedly.
“And come back downstairs after you’ve got the soap,” he added. “I’m not about to sit up there for half an hour.”
“Half an hour?” Ben whined.
“Make it an hour!” he said sternly.
“But Dad—"
“Does it need to be two hours?”
“No, sir.”
“Good.” He sighed and relaxed in his seat.
“Dave,” his mother whispered, “do you really think an hour’s necessary? I mean, it seems a little—"
“Abso-lutely,” Ben’s father said with relish, patting her knee and giving her a reassuring smile. “Boy’s gotta learn somehow, right?” He gave a wink and scoffed at Ben. “Hey, honey, how ‘bout some pizza?”
“What about Ben?” she asked curtly.
“There should be some bologna in the freezer. Might have some freezer burn, but it’ll be alright.”
“Fine,” she sighed. “But no meat lover’s, okay?”
“Well, what kind do you want?”
“Extra meat.”
“Deal! Oh, and uh, sport?” he addressed to Ben, looking at him through the rear-view mirror.
“Yes, Dad?”
“Don’t swallow the soap, it’ll give you mud-butt.”
“What’s that?”
“Diarrhea.”
“Oh.”
They eventually made it home, and Ben did as he’d been told. He went straight to the upstairs bathroom, filled his mouth with gingerbread-scented hand soap, kept himself from throwing up, and went downstairs. It wasn’t easy for Ben to endure them gloating over the pizza they were waiting on, but he figured that’s what he got for losing his temper, even if his parents did piss him off. After an excruciating hour, he was finally allowed to spit out the soap into the sink.
 “Rinse your mouth out with water a few times,” Dave called from the living room. “Should do the trick.”
“Where’d you say the bologna was, again?” he asked, leaning over the sink, spitting out the last remnants of the soap.
“I’sh in da freesher nesh do da fish,” Dave answered through a mouthful of pizza.
“Can I put it in the microwave?”
“No.”
“But it’s frozen.”
“Thaw it out under your armpit.”
Apparently, Penny found this hilarious, because Ben heard a series of short, girlish giggles.
“Umm… I’m okay….”
“Damn, honey, this pizza is so warm and rich,” his father gloated as Ben fumbled with the frozen, fishy bologna.
“The crust is so thick and soft,” his mother added with exaggeration, “and the cheese is so moist and gooey.”
Ben glared at them and cursed them internally for their precious pizza.
“I sure wish Ben could have some,” Dave taunted as he reached for a particularly tasty looking piece.
“Do you have to rub it in?” Ben snapped.
“Go to bed, sport.”
Penny giggled.
 
*  *    *     *  *
He was in a wooded clearing, completely alone. Looking down, Ben saw that he held a gas can in his left hand and a revolver in his right. Somehow, the gun looked familiar. He looked back up to see his parents standing a few yards away from him, the orange moon casting an eerie light on their faces. They slowly shook their heads in unison. After a moment, they smoldered away and were replaced by Ben’s grandparents, who were nodding at him in sync with each other.
Charlie’s head exploded in a great gush of blood, immediately followed by Helen’s chest and head. They fell to the ground, thrashing violently. Ben heard a noise behind him and turned to see a large, black brindle Pitbull trotting up to him. He nipped Ben’s left hand, making the gas can drop. The dog picked up the can by the handle with his mouth and strode over to the flailing bodies. The dog drizzled gasoline over them, and they started to hiss and cough vehemently.
The Pitbull cast down the gas can and trotted over to a sapling that Ben was sure hadn’t been there before. The dog barked at the bodies and curled up as if to go to sleep. The instant the dog barked, flames erupted from the bodies, and Ben’s grandparents became silent. Ben heard an insane cackle come from somewhere and became furious, ready to shoot whoever was finding pleasure at this. He lowered the gun when he realized that the cackling came from himself.
Blood oozed out of the sapling’s bark.
“Kill it! Kill it!” Daniel urged, who was now poised on the other side of the sapling with a stiff finger pointed at it. Ben tried to ask why, but his throat felt clogged and swollen.
“Kill it! Kill it! Kill it now!” he screeched. Ben raised the gun to the bleeding sapling. The Pitbull whimpered.
“Kill it! Kill it! KILL IT!”
Ben shook his head and let the gun drop. All was quiet, save the soft crackling of the flames. The sapling gushed blood like an open artery. Daniel made a slicing motion across his neck with his finger and gave Ben a look of loathing. He reached down and picked up a revolver. Ben looked down at his feet, but the gun was no longer there.
“How?” Ben asked.
Daniel only put his finger to his lips and put on a murderous smile. The dog was growling. Daniel aimed at the tree.
Then he fired.
Ben collapsed to the ground instantly, screaming and clutching the new hole in his chest.
Warm… wet… hollow… he thought.
Looking up, everything was total emptiness, save Daniel, who was now standing over him. He glowed a deep blood red. He smiled saintly.
“The tree!” Ben gasped through the blood in his lungs.
Daniel shook his head, still smiling.
“You,” he whispered, raising the gun to Ben’s face.
“Who are you?!” he wailed in agony.
“Names,” Daniel said softly, “have power. And while I know yours, Benjamin Ross, I don’t think I shall tell you mine. I’ve had many aliases in the past, and right now that alias would be Daniel Mortley. But… it is only that: an alias. But don’t worry… Daniel is safe with me. Serving his purpose. But I suppose you could call me the Nameless since I have no need for a proper name. Why would I when I have people like your lovely friend Daniel?”
“Wh-AAAGH!” Ben blurted through puddles of blood gushing out from his mouth.
“I’m sorry?” the Nameless asked sarcastically, cupping a hand around his ear
“Where… where is he?”
“Home. My home.”
Ben’s eyes began to throb, and he closed them tight against the imposter.
“What do you want?” Ben sobbed to the ground.
The Nameless hurled The Book of Agony in front of him, that crimson severed head leering up at him.
“You.”
The Nameless smirked and rolled up his sleeves.
“Why are you doing this?” Ben choked.
“Only I,” the Nameless responded. He raised the gun, and his eyes grew dark as he pointed it at Ben.
He cocked the gun.
 
*  *    *     *  *
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Ben, get up! Your grandparents are here!” Penny cried through Ben’s bedroom door.
Ben screamed and clutched at his chest, his heart pounding.
He checked to see if the hole in his chest was still there, though he did not know it. Ben slumped back down into his sheets in an effort to calm down from the dream, desperately wishing to understand what it meant.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
“Ben, come on before I make you wash your grandmother’s dentures with your own toothbrush,” Dave called jokingly through the door.
“Grody,” Ben mumbled to himself as he rolled out onto the floor with a soft thud.
Yawning with an awkward stretch that made him dizzy, he shuffled over to his closet and yanked it open.
Fwump!
“Ah, shit!” Ben cried as something came crashing onto his head.
“What was that?” Dave called in a dangerous tone.
“Tits!” he answered stupidly.
“What?”
“Mitts!” Ben lied frantically. “I found my mittens!”
“That’s what I thought.”
Cursing and massaging the top of his head, Ben reached down to pick up what had fallen from the top shelf. But what he saw made his muscles freeze into place.
It was The Book of Agony.
Only, Ben had been trying to find it ever since he sat down and read it. He’d even scoured his closet to the point of taking everything out systematically just to put it all back. And yet, it felt oddly lighter than he remembered. It was then that he noticed that all the pages had been haphazardly ripped out.
He suddenly felt as though eyes were upon him, and though he thought he saw something in his peripheral, nothing was there. Ben didn’t want to think about the book anymore, so he threw it under his bed in the same spot he put it the first time.
“Hi, Benny,” his grandma greeted when he came downstairs, “how are ya?”
“Good,” he lied thickly while receiving a rib-crushing hug.
“That’s always good to hear.”
“Hey, son,” Charlie said to Dave, “You still got that rake I let you borrow?”
“Yeah, it’s out back,” he replied, pointing his thumb over his shoulder.
“Good, good. I never got around to raking over the fall and figured I might as well get it back while I was here. Would’ve just let you keep it, but money’s a little tight at the moment.”
“Is everything alright?” Penny asked.
“Yeah, yeah, just had to get a new car. Engine was totally shot on the old one, repairs would’ve cost more than the damn thing was worth.”
Dave glanced out the window.
“Oh, yeah. Didn’t even notice. What is that a Toyota?”
“Yup. 1998 Toyota Tacoma. In practically brand-new condition, got it for a steal.”
“Wow,” Dave said as Ben peeped out the living room window as well, intrigued by the red pick-up truck.
“What’d you do with the Fiesta?” Dave inquired as he stepped away from the window.
Charlie laughed and said, “Damn thing was old enough to have a mortgage and three kids. Just finally reached its limit. Kicked the ol’ pooper.”
Dave nodded and gave an empty “Yeah.”
“Benji!” Charlie boomed, pretending to just then notice Ben as he violently attempted to break every rib he had, which his ribs were already sore from Helen. “Say, how ya been? School goin’ okay?”
“Yeah,” he lied.
“That’s not what I heard. Heard you got in a scuffle. Did you hit him good?”
“You’re not encouraging him, are you, Charlie?” Penny scolded.
“Ahem, hmm-hmm,” Charlie excessively coughed, straightening his posture.
“Ben,” he stated with a sudden seriousness that made him jump a little, “what you did was highly unacceptable. I hope you learned your lesson.”
However, when his parents’ backs were turned a few minutes later, Charlie turned to Ben and gave him two thumbs up, a boyish grin spread across his face. Ben grinned back, a warm feeling spreading across his chest.
“Alright, well, you ready, Ben?” Charlie asked an hour later after they’d all had breakfast.
“Ready for what?” he asked.
“Did you guys not tell him?” Helen asked his parents.
Dave scratched his head awkwardly, and Penny coughed and stared down at her plate.
“Well, I thought we’d go out to Nashville today,” Charlie explained. “You ever been to the Frist?”
Ben shook his head.
“It’s an art museum,” Helen explained, catching Ben’s attention as he thought of his favorite television painter, Bob Ross. “They put on a lot of really interesting art shows. Think you’d like it a lot. Penny mentioned you like to watch Bob Ross reruns sometimes.”
“Who’s Bob Ross?” Dave asked, embarrassment gone as he chewed on a giant heap of scrambled eggs.
Helen smiled. “He’s a painter on TV.”
“They’re doing a show on Aaron Douglas today,” Charlie said to Ben. “He was a Harlem Renaissance painter, really good stuff.”
“What’s the Harlem Renaissance?” Ben asked, setting down his orange juice and putting his napkin on the empty plate.
“Well, guess you’ll find out. You ready?”
“Yes, sir,” Ben affirmed.
“Well, alrighty, then. You ready Helen?”
“Yup.”
“Well, guess we’ll see you later tonight,” Charlie said to Dave and Penny.
They put on their coats and left, and for once, Ben felt like a kid again. It had been so long since he felt safe to be himself that it felt strange and made him feel a little guilty. The ride there was filled with the kind of lighthearted fun that made him wish he, Jay, and Thomas were less distant. He wished for a bridge to close the gap between the islands they had all three moved themselves to. But he didn’t know how to build bridges.
Ben enjoyed the art. He didn’t know much about painting besides to use odorless paint thinner and to prime the canvas with liquid white, but the colorful paintings he saw displayed there made him forget momentarily about his recent troubles.
Afterwards, they stopped by an Italian restaurant for lunch, and as they were headed back, Ben began to nod off in the hypnotic silence of the interstate and dreamt of dementors coming to eat his soul in Azkaban.
= Chapter V =
Ben stood amidst the ruins of his grandparents’ house, now black bones that sizzled to the snow-strewn ground. He shuffled his feet through the ashes and wondered what happened.
“Like the scenery?” a familiar voice crooned from behind.
Ben turned, and through the soot and snow flittering in the air, he recognized the face of Daniel. The only light in the night came from the persistent embers that struggled to stay alive, which cast Daniel’s face in a sinister glow. Ben had to remind himself that this wasn’t Daniel, but the Nameless.
“What?” Ben asked.
Daniel—no, the Nameless—smirked and took a deep breath of the smoky air as though savoring the scent of mountain pines.
“What do you want?” Ben asked again.
The Nameless opened his eyes and picked up a black book covered in soot.
“You ever read this thing? It’s a fun little read.”
Ben recognized the shiny red embellishments on the cover.
“Yes,” he murmured.
The Nameless gave a soft little chuckle.
“Did you look at it again, after our last little chit-chat?”
“The pages were gone.”
A gust of smoke blew in Ben’s face and made his eyes water.
“Well, that’s a damn shame. I really want you to read it. Maybe I can help you if first, you do a little something for me.”
Ben took a step back and wrung his hands.
“All you need to know is that… if you don’t do as your told, then you will be a very sorry boy. A very sorry boy, indeed.”
“What do you mean?” Ben asked.
“Ha! You don’t even want to know, my friend.” Ben winced at the Nameless calling him “friend.” He had desecrated the precious memory of Daniel, and that was not something Ben took to kindly. “Or do you?”
Ben remained silent.
“Cat got your tongue?”
An owl screeched, as if to stop the conversation. The Nameless looked a bit worried as he tried to find it, but he could not.
“Anyways,” the Nameless continued after a moment, “I need you to do as your told, Ben. And I told you to read those pages, didn’t I? You didn’t listen, and now they’re gone because of you. You don’t suppose I need to… teach you a lesson, do I?”
Ben knew that this was going no place good. He didn’t want to answer, but the Nameless grabbed a particularly deadly looking piece of wood, as though to keep him motivated to talk.
An enormous great-horned owl flew on top of a collapsed beam of wood that leaned against the wall.
“Get out of here!” the Nameless warned, trying to hide the fear in his voice. Ben somehow felt that the owl was there to protect him.
The Nameless picked up a brick and hurled it at the owl, ignoring Ben’s cry of protest. The owl flew away.
“Goddammit,” the Nameless muttered to himself. “How the fuck did she find us? Whatever, just one more thing, Ben,” the Nameless said. “Make sure to read that book when you get the chance. I’ll even be nice and help find those pages for you. And you’ll know when I find them. Don’t worry, you’ll know.”
*  *    *     *  *
It was Sunday morning. 6:30, according to Ben’s clock. In half an hour, his parents would rouse him on their weekly excursion to church, where Ben would be lulled to sleep by the preacher, and Dave would pinch him to wake him up. And then Dave would tell Ben on the way home about being godly, but Ben didn’t listen. He was only. But at least his grandparents would come today, having stayed the night in the guest room.
“Morning, sunshine,” Charlie greeted twenty minutes later as he poured himself a large bowl of Count Chocula.
“Morning.”
“Sleep well?”
Ben lied and nodded his head. He hoped his grandpa wouldn’t notice the bags under his eyes.
“That’s good. Damn, guess everyone else is sleeping in a little.” He glanced briefly around the empty room.
“I guess,” Ben said.
He poured himself a cereal bowl of his own and began to munch tiredly on the chocolatey chunks.
“Oh yeah, meant to mention yesterday,” Charlie announced a moment later, “was talking to your cousin Mike the other day, wanted to know how you were doing.”
Ben’s stomach did a flip.
“I told him the happenings. We oughta see him sometime. When he’s not busy, though. I don’t know how the guy does it, but he’s double majoring and working a full-time job. Think it’s at Dingle Burger, but he’s wanting to go to NASA someday. Got his bachelor’s already, think he’s working on his master’s right now. I forget what his majors are, though. Something to do with physics, that’s all I know. Just watch out, he might start talking your head off about String Theory and multiple universes. Interesting stuff, but I don’t understand the half of it.”
Ben nodded. “Yeah, it’d be nice to see him, I guess.” He’d never felt particularly close to his cousin, but for some reason the man seemed to take a liking to Ben.
The sermon that day was just as monotone as ever. The preacher never varied his delivery, and rarely looked up from his podium, save when a toddler cried or somebody stood at the wrong cue, which he would simply meet with a stern look of disapproval. His voice was dry and papery, and his skin even more so. It didn’t help that his parents refused to let him go with the youth groups, because that wasn’t “real church.”
Out of sheer boredom, Ben decided to count the number of times Dave pinched him. Ben achieved a high score of sixteen pinches. His arm was sore by the end of the sermon.
Afterwards, Helen proposed that they take another trip to get ice cream, just the three of them. Ben eagerly agreed.
“Hey, Ben,” Helen said after a few minutes of silence. The ice cream shop smelled sweat and milky. Much better than the hot smell of dust and mothballs at the church. “Is everything okay at home?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he lied.
“You sure? You seem a bit gloomy. And I know how Dave can be. Got a stick up his ass about something all the time.”
Ben forced a light chuckle. He felt weak as a person. He knew he shouldn’t give Daniel (no, the Nameless) what he wanted. He couldn’t imagine what horrors would happen lie within those pages. And he knew that it would be all his fault when things got worse. Typical, just typical. The worthless scum he was. Why couldn’t he just move on like Dave said he should? Why was he still like this? Why was he so fucking goddamn pathetic? He imagined his face in front of him. He wanted to strangle that throat, to gouge out those eyes, to really teach that little bitch a--
“Ben?” Charlie asked. “You okay?”
He was shaking. Ben thought about lying again, but he couldn’t lie to his grandparents. The two people he loved most in the world. And he knew they wouldn’t believe him—hell, might even call him crazy—but he couldn’t lie to them. His heart was bruised enough as it was.
“N-no… sir.”
Charlie blinked his eyes, clearly not expecting such a direct answer.
“What is it, honey?” Helen asked. She placed a warm hand on Ben’s knee.
He tried to look for the words, but they didn’t seem to want to show themselves.
“I… don’t know. It’s just—I don’t think you’d believe me.”
Helen leaned towards him, an earnest gleam in her kind blue eyes.
“Ben, you’ve already said enough for me to believe anything you say. We’re here for you. You’re our grandson, and we will do everything in our power to keep you happy and safe. Now, what is it?”
Ben took a deep breath and forced the knot in his abdomen out of the way of his words.
He told them everything.
*  *    *     *  *
“So, you did make him wash out his mouth with soap for an hour?” Helen exclaimed.
“Well, he’s gotta learn somehow,” Dave replied irritably.
“But liquid soap for an hour?”
“He didn't learn from the bar soap last time; so, liquid this time,” Ben heard his mother respond as though this were obvious.
“Plus, he kept arguing with me,” Dave argued. “I was gonna make it half an hour, but I had to make it an hour. Ben nearly pushed it to two hours, he should be thanking me, I tell you what.”
Charlie scoffed. “And if he’d accidentally swallowed it?” he asked incredulously.
“Then it’d teach him his lesson even better!” Penny retorted.
It wasn’t long past 8:30, but Ben was sent to bed early after he fell asleep on the couch. Once in bed, though, he found it impossible to turn off his brain. Drawn by heated words, he now crouched at the top of the stairs as he listened to the argument in the living room below.
“Dave,” Helen sighed, “did we teach you nothing as a child?”
“No, not much. Did a pretty piss poor job if you ask me.”
There was a pause, during which Helen hissed Charlie’s name as if to keep him from retaliating.
“Helen,” Charlie muttered moodily, “we need to talk about the book.”
“Book?” Ben’s father asked confusedly, “Charlie, what book are you talking about?”
“David,” he began with a sigh, “Ben told us about a particular book that he found a little while ago. On his birthday, as a matter of fact. He says he told you about it?”
There was a long pause.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” Helen scoffed. “You don’t remember your son mentioning a book filled with ghastly horrors?”
“Oh!” Penny exclaimed. Ben knew that tone. She was acting. “Davey, he means the book Ben said was written in blood!”
“That?” he scoffed. “That stupid thing he made up? You don’t honestly believe him, do you? And expect me to remember every little thing he says? He’s a fuckin’ kid for Christ’s sake, he just turned eleven—”
“Twelve,” Helen interrupted.
“Twelve, whatever. It’s nonsense! He’s just trying to get attention, and I really don’t approve of that kind of behavior, nor do I think I should reinforce it by giving it attention.”
“Nonsense?” Helen muttered in a dangerously quiet voice. “What’s nonsense is staging an elaborate ‘prank,’ as you call it—"
“Prank? What prank?” Penny blurted a little too hastily. “We just ignored that whole book nonsense. What’s this prank business?”
Ben couldn’t help but notice the mistake in her lie and smile a little to himself.
“He says you lured him into the attic and scared him!” Charlie yelled. Ben wondered if he left out his father’s reaction that night on purpose or not.
“What?” laughed Dave disbelievingly. “You don’t seriously buy that crap, right? I mean, Jesus, he’s claiming to have a book written in blood with people cut up and shit, it sounds like a Clive Barker novel.”
“I,” Helen stressed, “am willing to take Ben’s word wholeheartedly on this.”
“You’re joking, right? I Mean, c’mon, the whole thing’s just fucking preposterous. There is no book, Helen. And I’ll be damned if I look for it either, and if Ben mentions that shit to me one more time, I swear I’ll—"
Ben heard something hard and hollow flop onto the coffee table. Briefly peeking down into the living room, he could see his parents gawking open-mouthed at the page-less cover to The Book of Agony. He had given it to his grandparents earlier to prove that he was telling the truth.
“Ring any bells?” Helen prodded.
“I-I--”
“Helen,” Ben heard his mother say quietly, “where are the pages?”
“Ben said he found them torn out yesterday morning.”
“But-but—" Dave blubbered.
“Look,” Charlie said, “Ben’s experiences with this thing have disturbed him greatly--”
“Experiences? What experiences?”
“He hasn’t told you?”
“No,” Dave said curtly.
“Nightmares every night, David. Every single night he has to watch his friend get killed right in front of him.”
“Feels like he’s always being watched, too, “Charlie added. “And now he says there’s… something—I won’t say what because you’ll just blow it off—is following him. Talking to him. Tormenting him, David. And this is your son, we’re talking about.”
“Well, I um—”
“No,” Charlie stated. “Don’t just sit there and dribble that horseshit out of that asshole mouth of yours when Ben’s mental health is at stake here. And I’ll ask you this once: are you going to do anything about this? Something that preferably doesn’t involve yelling at him?”
“Uh, I… I… well….”
“That answers my question, David. I cannot sit here and idly watch as you neglect and abuse my grandson. As a man who tries to live his life decently, I simply cannot do it. And I am unabashedly disappointed that you can’t be fucking man enough to take care of your only son.”
Ben poked his head back down for a moment and was surprised to see that there were tears in his father’s eyes and that Penny was covering her own eyes with her hand.
“Dave,” Helen said softly but sternly, “We think he has depression, maybe even PTSD. We want to get him into therapy and on medication. Think about it, Dave. One of his best friends gets hit by a car, and suddenly Ben doesn’t talk to his friends, he doesn’t play, he doesn’t laugh, and when he does it’s forced. He was crying to us when we went out to eat, because you two weren’t there when Ben needed you most. He tries to reach out to you, and you see it as an opportunity to play some sick joke on him, thinking it will somehow snap him out of this. Utterly disgusting behavior from the both of you. Penny, I raised you better than that.”
Dave was silent, but Ben could hear his heavy, measured breaths. Penny gulped.
“He… may have some minor depression, sure. Maybe he can talk to his school counselor about it. But PTSD? No way. Ben didn’t see it. He’s a kid, too, they just bounce back after things like this. Not like he went into war.”
“Penny, quit downplaying this for your own comfort,” Helen scorned. “He’s got nightmares. He’s hallucinating. We think he may have made this book during some kind of state, which is why Ben needs psychiatric help immediately.
“Well, I’m not paying for that shit,” Dave grumbled.
Well,” Dave sighed, “in that case we think it best Ben come live with us. You are showing complete and utter disregard for his emotional well-being to the point of emotional abuse and neglect. He’s coming with us tonight. For good.”
“Get out,” Dave growled. He sounded dog-like. Ben had never heard this tone of voice before.
“Excuse me?” Helen gasped.
“Get. The fuck. Out.”
“How dare you talk to us that way?”
“I said, get the FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE, CUNT!” Dave screamed at the top of his lungs. The coffee table banged on his leg as he shot from the couch.
There was a heavy silence, after which Ben heard the shuffle of coats and the soft click of the front door. A moment, later, Ben heard the engine of the Tacoma fire up and drive away.
*  *    *     *  *
“Benjamin Gordon Ross!”
Ben winced with anticipation as he stepped off the bus a little way down the street.
“Get your punk-ass in here, NOW!”
He warily turned his gaze towards the house where the menacing figure of his father stood on the porch.
Knowing better than to make the trip as slowly as possible, he hurried over to the yard as fear mounted within.
When he approached the house, he slowed down slightly. His father stood in the doorway, his knuckles white against the wall and his eyes blazing with an insane fury the likes of which he had never seen before. He glanced down and thought that he must be wrong, but there appeared to be blood on his shoes.
“Upstairs. Bedroom. Now!” he spat as he yanked Ben by the arm and shoved him towards the stairs.
At the top of them, standing to the left of them and by his bedroom door was the iresome stare of his mother. He paused, but Dave kicked his backpack hard, almost sending him face-first into the corner of the stair.
“Ow!” he cried.
“SHUT UP!”  Dave screamed. His voice was so distorted by rage that it was almost unrecognizable.
Ben picked himself up, his body hot and stinging with sweat underneath his heavy winter coat.
“Inside,” Penny snarled.
Ben grasped the bedroom door handle.
“Open it.” Dave barked.
With a grimace, Ben pushed open the door.
And he froze.
His bedroom was as close to Hell as he could imagine. Nailed to the walls, ceiling, and floor were the missing pages the Nameless had promised to bring him. But this was not what made Ben’s breath catch in his throat. Blood was splashed like grim-work all over the room, and in the center of it was where the most blood was. And it was where the intestines were, as well, piled up like fetid dog shit. An intestine led up from the floor and was connected to Daniel Mortley’s naked corpse, which was suspended from the ceiling fan by the noose, jerking grossly from the fan’s rhythmic pulse. His eyes were gouged, and dried blood caked the rims of his eyes, nose, and mouth. His throat had been slit, and blood dribbled all the way down to where his chest had been ripped open, and down to his crotch. Insides spilled out onto the floor, blood still dripping with a quiet splat, splat, splat against Daniel’s disembodied lungs.
And Ben screamed.
“Don’t you DARE fucking scream, you little psycho!” his father roared from behind. “Do you see what you did? DO YOU SEE WHAT YOU DID?”
Ben wanted to turn around, but he couldn’t; his eyes were locked upon the mutilated body of the closest friend he’d ever head that now hung in his bedroom.
“ANSWER ME!”
Ben turned around to face the other horror in the room.
“What the FUCK did you do to that dog?”
“D-dog?” he responded meekly.
“Don’t you fucking play with me. Don’t you DARE FUCKING PLAY WITH ME!”
His father paused, taking a deep breath. “Alright, fine. It’s pretty fucking clear what this is. You don’t want to live here anymore? Fine. You’d rather live with your precious grandparents than your own parents? Fine. You wanna play little fucking serial-killer-in-the-making? Fucking fine. But don’t bring this shit into my FUCKING HOUSE!”
His father grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around and grabbed him by his backpack, throwing him face first into the wall next to the hole Ben had made himself.
“David!” Penny shrieked, though it sounded distant to Ben.
“YOU LITTLE BITCH, WHAT IN THE HOLY FUCKING HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, HUH?!” his father thundered deafeningly as he advanced menacingly. “DO YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?! THIS SOME KIND OF SICK FUCKING JOKE?!”
“Dad, Dad—" Ben stammered, but he was picked up by the hair and his father came within an inch of his face and screamed.
“YOU’RE GONNA TAKE YOUR FUCKING MEDICINE!”
He slammed Ben’s head into the floor, ripping off his backpack simultaneously.
“M-Mommy!” he screamed.
“David, STOP! DAVID!”
Penny rushed in and tried to push his father off him, but he only let go of Ben and decked her in the face.
“You BITCH!”
Dave turned around and threw Ben into the dresser. The lamp fell and bashed into his skull. He tried to crawl away, but his father kicked him back into the dresser.
“Whose dog is that, Ben? WHOSE DOG IS THAT?”
Ben didn’t understand what he meant. All he knew was that his friend’s corpse was in the center of the room, and soon his own corpse would be with it.
Penny charged back into the room with a bat and swung it into his father’s ribs. He screamed but said nothing as he grabbed it from her and swung it into her head, her body going limp and falling into the pile of intestines.
He then threw the bat down and grabbed the lamp and beat Ben in the face with it again and again, the lampshade eventually coming off and the lightbulb breaking over his face, blood streaming into Ben’s eyes.
“DADDY! DADDY, PLEASE!”
He said nothing as he picked Ben up and threw him into the closet, where Ben’s body slumped the ground. Through the blood, sweat, and tears, Ben saw it. He saw Daniel’s corpse standing in the corner, smiling at him. From the ceiling hung the corpse of a brindle Pitbull, mutilated in the same exact way.
“It… it was him, Dad….” Ben gasped, trying to point at the Nameless, but he was not heard. In the corner, the Nameless smiled.
An owl cried outside the window.
= Chapter VI =
A little over two months had passed since Ben had been sent to the Emergency Room. He still had scars on his face and body, but his recovery had been remarkably quick, astonishing his doctors. Miraculously, Dave hadn’t managed to seriously break any bones.
It had been only a few moments that Penny had been knocked out by the bat, and while he was occupied by his merciless beating, she stumbled her way down the stairs to the phone and called the police, who arrived within minutes and arrested Dave, an image Ben wouldn’t be soon to forget.
Immediately after getting his father out of the way, the paramedics rushed both Penny and her son to the hospital. Luckily, Ben only had a concussion and some minor fractures and dislocations. Penny was terrified of possible brain damage, but there were no signs of any. While there, legal custody of him was handed over to his grandparents, who were more than willing to take him in.
Their house was a cozy one, nestled on the outskirts of Maysburg amidst a rather large swath of forest in the country. It was here that he finally felt genuinely loved by somebody. And though he remained largely friendless when he started going to Maysburg Middle, he felt content. Somehow, despite the popular kids being ruthless bully machines, he managed to fly under their radar. He was in therapy, now, too, and on medication. He’d been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and PTSD just like his grandparents had suspected.
He was the happiest he had ever been.
*  *    *     *  *
“Ben, your mother called today,” Charlie told him one Wednesday afternoon in early February. “She said she wants to talk to you about something.”
“About what?” he asked.
Charlie shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno. She wouldn’t tell me. Just that she wants to see you tomorrow. I told her I’d ask you about it.”
Ben frowned. There was a lot he was still resentful about towards his mother. The idea of her, of a piece of that hell, coming here to this sanctuary disturbed him.
Charlie sighed.
“I get it, Ben. I really do, but she’s your mother. She might not be the best mother in the world, but she does care about you. And it sounded to me today like she’s been doing a lot of thinking. And it would be here, where you’d be safe. And D… David won’t be here to… to keep everyone down.”
Ben nodded his head heavily. “Okay. I guess I’m okay with it. Do you know if Dad’s going to prison yet?”
“Can’t say I do, son,” he said. “He won’t talk to me, your mother’s the only one who knows right now. And I’m sorry, Ben.”
“Why are you sorry?” he asked.
“Because… because I feel like it’s partly my fault.”
“How is it your fault?”
“Well, I did raise her. And… sure, I wasn’t the perfect parent. I could’ve been more involved in her life, but I don’t know what I did for her to turn out this way. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. You didn’t make her marry Dad and let him beat me and mom up.”
Charlie smiled. “Yeah. You know what, Ben? You’re a good kid. Best kid there is. It’s just unfortunate that you haven’t had the life you deserve. I hope Helen and I can turn things around for you, give you a good home.”
“Yeah,” Ben said, not sure what to say.
“Ah, hell,” he cried, throwing his arms up playfully.
“What is it?”
Charlie gave him a look of frustration, but Ben knew immediately that he was just messing with him.
“I’ve gotta start saving up to put you in college!”
“Already?”
“Shit, college is expensive, Ben. And it’s only getting more expensive every year.”
Ben laughed, and for that afternoon, Charlie took him out back to shoot targets with his revolver, something they hadn’t done in years.
The next day dragged on. Ben both looked forward to and dreaded Penny’s visit that afternoon. He wanted things to be okay with her, but he didn’t want things to go back to how they were.
When he came home from school, his grandparents acted as though nothing was out of the ordinary, but Ben could see a certain hesitation in their eyes. At last, the sound of tires rubbed over gravel outside, and soon to follow was a timid knock upon the front door.
“Well, guess that’s her,” Charlie said as he stood up and went over.
“Hey,” Penny muttered, obscured by Ben’s grandfather.
“Hey.”
There was a moment’s silence as the frigid air from outside crept in.
“May I come in?”
“Yeah. Ben’s right over there,” he gestured as he stepped away from the door.
She smiled at Ben and took off her black gloves.
“Hi, sweetie. How’re you?”
“I’m okay,” he returned. He forced a polite smile.
“That’s good. How are you, Helen?”
“Alright,” she answered curtly. She didn’t look up from her book.
“You want a drink or anything?” Charlie asked after closing the door. “We got water, coffee, Pepsi, milk. Might still have some almond milk, too.”
“A coffee would be nice,” Penny smiled.
“One coffee comin’ up. You want a Pepsi, Ben?”
“Yes, sir.” He set down the book they’d been reading in class.
“Still reading just as much as ever, huh?” she asked as she slowly took a seat on one of the extra chairs.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What book is that?”
“Lord of the Flies.”
“Oh, that’s a good one! Do you like it?”
“Pretty good. Gotta write a paper, though.”
“Oh, you reading it for school?”
“Mhm.”
Charlie came back into the living room and said, “Hey, if you want some privacy, you can use Ben’s room, if you want. Oh, and uh, how do you like your coffee?”
“That’d be great, Charlie. And black is fine.”
“Alright, Ben’s in your old room. Oh, and here’s your Pepsi. Coffee will be ready in a few minutes.”
Ben got up and led her to his room, which was a little smaller than his old room, but the brown walls and view of the trees behind the house made it feel more homely. There was an old clock on the wall that ticked softly. It helped him sleep at night.
“I like the room,” she said as she closed the door behind them. “Do you like it?”
Ben nodded his head and sat down on his bed. Penny pulled up an old antique dining chair from the corner that Ben liked to read in so that she could face him. They stared at each other awkwardly for a minute or so. Penny’s grey eyes scanned the room sporadically. She coughed and pulled back her auburn hair.
“So…um… how’s school going?”
“It’s good.”
“Grades okay?”
“Yeah. A’s for the most part.”
She smiled. “Yeah, you’re a smart kid.”
There was a knock on the door, and Charlie eased in with a steaming mug of coffee.
“Thanks.”
“Everything okay? Need anything?”
“No, but thank you,” Penny answered.
Charlie gave a dry thumbs up and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Penny took a brief sip and recoiled from the heat.
“Wooh, that’s hot. So… I’m sure you’re wondering why I wanted to talk to you, and I know you probably have a lot of questions about your dad.”
“Is he going to prison?” Ben asked quickly.
She blinked her eyes and set down the mug.
“It’ll be another six months before his hearing, but… probably. I’d be very surprised if he doesn’t.”
Ben nodded and looked down at his shoes and tried to hide his smirk. She leaned over and tried to put her hand on his leg, but he recoiled involuntarily, and she retracted her hand. Ben wished he hadn’t done so. It felt nice the brief moment it’d been there.
“I know it’s hard, Ben. Believe me, it’s hard on me, too. I mean, I’ve known him for years… since high school. I didn’t like having him arrested. But… he was out of control. He could’ve killed you. Could’ve killed both of us.”
Ben nodded his head, his eyes still fixated on his shoes, observing every fiber and splash of mud.
“And now, I’ve lost my son, too. But… I guess it’s best for you here. I can’t afford to pay for both of us. Besides… there’s a lot of… heaviness there. No place to be happy. But I do want you to know, Ben, that I love you.”
He looked up and saw his mother wipe tears from her eyes. Penny gripped her purse tightly in her lap and shivered in her black coat. Ben looked back down uncomfortably.
“I’ve been thinking a lot since everything happened. And I… I just want to say that I’m sorry, sweetie. I’ve always loved you more than anything in the world, but… I guess I never knew I never showed it. I should’ve been there for you.”
“It’s okay,” Ben whispered, looking back up, this time keeping his eyes on hers.
“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “No, it’s not okay. I should have been there. And I was never there, not even when your friend died. It was just…. I didn’t want to admit that anything was wrong. I wanted to have the perfect family. To have the perfect husband. To be the perfect wife and the perfect mother. I just didn’t know… what it meant. What the perfect husband was, or what the perfect mother was, either. To me, the only thing that mattered was that it looked like we had the perfect lives. I never wanted to think about reality.
“I should’ve made him leave a long time ago. He wasn’t fit to be a father or a husband. He never was. If he were, he never would have… done the things he did. He never would have hit you or treated you the way he did. But… I let it happen. I went along, afraid of what would happen if I didn’t. And sometimes I believed he was right. Like when he made you eat that bologna, or when we… you know… tricked you in the attic.”
“Did Dad hit you when I wasn’t around?” Ben asked. The question had been in his mind ever since she’d sported the bruise on her cheek the morning after they lured him in the attic, but he never had the courage to ask.
She took a sharp breath. She reached for her mug delicately and raised it to her lips.
“Yes. Yes, he did Ben.”
A fury rose within Ben that he had never felt before, s sort of protective rage.
“I tried to keep it from you. I didn’t want to worry you. That’s why I would only argue with him in the bedroom. And usually, he did a good job of not leaving marks. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
She stared him in the eyes, with a look that all at once conveyed pride, joy, and… was it fear?
“You’ve always been so mature,” she murmured.
She took a seat beside him, and Ben hugged her tightly. He felt her tears on his neck, but he had none to offer. He wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to feel. A few minutes later, he felt her head lift away, and he looked up to see Charlie standing in the doorway.
“Uh, hey, just wanted to say we’re about to have dinner if you want.”
Ben’s mother wiped her eyes and checked her flip-phone.
“I wish I could, but I have to get going,” she said. “I had to pick up another job to keep up with the bills, and I have to be there at nine.”
“Alright, well, if you ever wanna stop by, feel free. You used to live here, after all.”
“Thank you, I’ll try to come back soon. Maybe next week?”
“Any day. Ben gets home around four, and Helen and I are both home by three.”
“Alright. Well, Ben, I guess I’ll come back as soon as I can. That okay with you?”
He nodded his head, his eyes heavy.
They all got up, and Ben walked with her to the car.
“Call me, okay?”
“Yeah.”
She smiled and kissed him on the head. Ben watched from the driveway as she drove away.
As he was putting The Lord of the Flies back into his bag for the next day before bed, he noticed that there seemed to be an extra book in there. Confused, he picked it up and froze. His limbs prickled with dread.
It was The Book of Agony.
He remembered what the Nameless had told him that dark night in December. How the Nameless had told him to read it a second time, standing amidst the burnt ashes of what was now his bedroom.
Hands trembling, he slowly sifted through the sewn-together pages. His fingers turned the pages faster as he went along, desperate to put it away again. And to his twisted relief, nothing seemed to have changed other than the pages were reattached. That is, until he reached the last page. The ink bright red and reeked of pennies.
The painting was of Ben, chained to a wall, trapped behind bars. He was staring at two corpses on the other side.
= Chapter VII =
Ben’s alarm clock read 1:58 am. With a sigh, he slid out of his bed sheets and changed back into his day clothes. He grabbed The Book of Agony, the leather hot against his skin, and eased his way without a sound to the closed door of his grandparents’ bedroom. He put his ear against the crack and listened to their snores.
The coast was clear.
He crept through the back door, cringing at the loud creak of the wood. Zipping up his coat, he trudged through the light snow and went to the shed. There he grabbed a red canister of gasoline. Checking his pockets, he realized he forgot the lighter.
“Shit,” he whispered to himself. His breath hung in the air like a pale ghost.
There was a dirty flashlight on a counter that ran along the far wall of the shed. The amber light flickered to life as he flipped the switch. To his fortune, he found a dusty box of matches in the back.
After he turned the light off and silently closed the door, Ben continued deeper into the woods. The frigid silence bit at his nerves.
The trees thickened as he went along in the lonely February night, their bony branches tangling themselves around him. He couldn’t decide if they looked like they were trying to keep him away or trying to strangle him.
After probably ten minutes or so, Ben came across a sudden clearing. It was the one. He’d come across it before during the day while exploring. The sky above was bright and clear, but the shadows were dark and preyed on Ben’s imagination.
Failing to suppress a shudder that had little to do with the cold, Ben gritted his teeth, shoved past the trees, and stomped his way into the center of the clearing, determined to put this all to an end. He threw the book onto the frozen earth as hard as he could and ignored the cry of an owl nearby. He set down the matches and raised the gas can. He was about to drown the book in the pungent liquid, but he heard movement behind him and froze. After he heard nothing else, he told himself that it must’ve been a deer and tilted the nozzle.
Snap!
He whirled wildly on the spot. His eyes searched frantically for the source. From behind, he heard the owl cry again. For some reason, it sounded as though it was saying his name.
It was hard to discern anything in the darkness, but he thought he saw a dark shadow move in the bushes. His breath scraped against the air like rusty nails. He turned back to the book as the owl screeched violently overhead. More than panicked, he fumbled around with the matches, trying to bring the dead sticks back to life. It was difficult, but he eventually managed to get one to stay ablaze.
The moment the match struck the book, Ben was sent flying into the air, his body spinning violently until it slammed into the hard trunk of a tree. Dazed, Ben tried to focus his attention past the explosion of pain that ricocheted through his body and onto the fire in the clearing. He did a double take.
Ben had been successful in setting the book on fire, but that was all that could be said for his endeavors, for while a great fire blazed in the center of the clearing, everything about it was completely wrong. The flames rose high into the air, a black blazing tower of the night. The smoke it emitted was thick and noxious. It raced outward past him and into the trees. The smoke burned his eyes and nose. His mouth, too.
All around the flames, the light seemed to glare with a pale hue, sucking the color out of the forest around him. He noticed to his horror that the flames were quickly spreading outwards on a rampage through the clearing and towards the trees. Towards him.
He tried to stand, but a blast of hot smoke shot at his face. He closed his eyes, but when he opened them again, he found that the tree he’d been pinned against was now, too, on fire.
A lean, shadowy figure emerged from the midst of the flames, hunched over and shimmering like a mirage. It made a noise, a noise that made Ben’s hairs stand on end, and began to charge at him, long sharp fingers extended towards him.
It wrapped its claws around Ben’s head and forced him to stare into its white glowing eyes.
*  *    *     *  *
Ben woke with a gasp for breath and struggled in his sheets. It took him a moment to realize he was no longer trapped in the burning clearing and that he was safe in his room. The yellow morning sunlight peeked through the frosted windows. He sighed deeply to ease his nerves and wrangled himself from his cocoon. The chilly air bit at his sweat-soaked skin, and Ben hurried to his closet to change from his pajamas.
Wait… pajamas? But hadn’t he changed back into his clothes the night before? The memories of the dream washed back over him, and he checked over his body. He saw no burns, cuts nor scrapes. Surely, it hadn’t been a dream? It seemed so real, more real than any nightmare he’d had with the Nameless. It was branded into his skull.
He laughed at the situation and realized it must have been a dream. But his relief was short-lived because it was then that he realized that if it had been a dream, horrible as it was, then the book still survived, lurking in the shadows in wait of the right time for him to stumble across it. But had the fire truly destroyed it?
No, of course it didn’t, he thought to himself. Because it was just a dream. But… where is it now?
He nervously glanced around the cozy bedroom, scared he might see it lying on his bed. Or… was it possible that he’d somehow dreamt finding the book too? No, he’d been haunted by that wretched thing and the Nameless for months, now, there was no way he’d dreamt all that. But… perhaps he hadn’t dreamed it, maybe he’d simply imagined the whole thing… a delusion brought on by grief.
The thought that he was crazy made Ben’s heart skip a beat, though soon a calm seemed to wash over his body. Because if it hadn’t been real, then there was nothing to be afraid of. He almost laughed with this newfound relief.
Yet… there was an odd, empty feeling in his chest, as though it had been carved out by the knife of a butcher. He felt a peculiar sense of loss that had nothing to do with anything he had yet experienced. It was as though… as though—
A piece of me died.
He shook his head. Stop it, he commanded himself. Just stop it. You’re being… CRAZY!
He giggled at this thought. He embraced this newfound identity: Ben the Crazy Kid! Who knew what kind of stories he might come up with next!
Giggling uncontrollably, he changed clothes and went into the bathroom. As he grabbed his toothbrush, he froze in the mirror.
There were leaves in his hair.
Golly gee, he mused lightly, waving his initial fright away. Those twigs must have been in there all day, yesterday. Why didn’t anyone tell me?
Ben ripped the twigs from his gnarled hair, wincing.
That Friday was wonderful. He was talkative to just about everyone he sat next to in class, joking and goofing around as though he didn’t have a care in the world. And why shouldn’t he? He lived in a home that actually felt like a home, and he’d come to realize that the nightmare he’d suffered the past few months was merely a grim fantasy. But deep down, he knew that the grim fantasy was a reality. He knew that he was just too terrified of the reality to face it head-on. And it was because of this that he finally let slip a glaring hole in his denial that afternoon when he came home: if the whole thing had been an invention of his mind, then how had he been able to show his grandparents the book? Or, for that matter, how could he explain the dog that’d been strung up in his bedroom, causing his father to inflict the injuries that still made his movement stiff?
No… what was he talking about? He’d clearly imagined giving The Book of Agony to his grandparents, and obviously, no dog had been hanging in his bedroom. Ben must have done something else to upset his father. He just had to figure out what it was. His dad probably didn’t even beat him, Ben probably imagined that, too.
Reaffirmed in his insanity, Ben drifted off to sleep that night with ease.
*  *    *     *  *
“No! No! No! Take me back! I don’t want to be here anymore!” Ben wailed.
“Be quiet, you,” the Nameless snarled, “and get a move on.”
The Nameless kicked Ben smartly in the back of the head and sent him face-first into the rough snow. The rocks and twigs scraped against his raw face.
Though Ben’s memory of what had transpired after the shadowy figure charged at him was foggy, he’d suddenly found himself lying in the snow of the clearing, both legs broken with the Nameless scowling from above.
“You fucked up, kid,” he’d said. “You fucked up.”
The Nameless had then picked Ben up and threw him into the snow, ordering him to crawl. Ben didn’t dare cry. Not once that whole day he was forced to crawl on broken legs. And especially not now, even though the night air bit harder than ever.
“Why?” ben whimpered.
“Because you’re slow as shit, you worthless scum.”
“No,” Ben corrected. “Why are you doing all of this to me?”
The Nameless leaned down and grabbed Ben by the hair and growled in his face, breath drenched in iron, “Because I fucking can. Now MOVE!”
Ben didn’t argue but instead resigned himself to keep crawling at his snail’s pace. The night grew darker.
“Ben,” the Nameless said quietly after what must’ve been hours, “if you want this to end, then you must come to us. Start by going to the clearing.”
“But… but we just came from there!” Ben gasped. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.
“I’m not talking to you,” the Nameless spat.
“Wh… what?”
The Nameless stared into Ben’s eyes with a cold glare, and said, “Open your eyes, Ben. And wake up.”
*  *    *     *  *
Ben awoke and turned to his alarm clock. It read that it was eight.
“Helen, honey, I think we’re out of Count Chocula,” he heard his granddad rumble from the kitchen.
“Hey, Ben,” Charlie said from the breakfast table when Ben came into the kitchen a few minutes later. “How’d ja sleep?” His voice was groggy, and his eyes were puffy.
“Alright, I guess,” he lied. He didn’t like lying to him, but he didn’t know how he could possibly tell his grandparents what had happened. He was afraid it would be too bizarre for even them to believe.
“Good, good,” Charlie mumbled as he munched noisily on a piece of toast.
Ben peered into the cereal cabinet for a moment without really looking.
“You okay?” Helen asked. Ben jerked from his trance.
“Oh, uh, yeah,” he said.
“You sure?”
Ben didn’t respond immediately but instead thought carefully about his words.
“Do you remember that book I showed you a couple of months ago?” he asked tentatively.
“The Book of Agony?”
“Yeah.”
His stomach plummeted, distraught by this blazing hole burned in his delusion. How could she remember if it weren’t real?
“Why, yes, I do, Ben. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering,” he muttered.
They tried to press him for more information, but his tongue was tied. Eventually, he retired to his room and closed the door quickly behind him.
It was just a dream, he thought as he paced abound his room.
Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream. It was just—
*  *    *     *  *
A clump of snow fell from above and smacked him in the head.
What the hell am I doing? He asked himself. I’m not going to find anything. I should just stop and turn around. Right this instant, young man.
But his feet wouldn’t listen; they plowed stubbornly through the slushy snow. He should’ve been there by now, but he tried not to think about it. It was stupid. Pointless. Just a stupid dream. Yet here he was, blundering around in the woods getting his feet wet. And even though it was February, he was sweat profusely underneath his coat. The sun had decided to blaze on like it was May, but Ben didn’t feel like carrying his coat, so he endured the notoriously inconsistent Tennessee weather, nonetheless.
This is stupid, this is stupid this is stupid, this is so fucking—
He stopped in his tracks. He hadn’t quite reached the clearing, but he knew he was close because every tree was burnt to a crisp. The trees towered over him and stretched out their long black fingers towards the clearing ahead. He crept forward until at last he was behind the bony bushes that surrounded the clearing. He spied a dark stain in the center.
Warily, he stalked forward with the apprehension of a cat. Alas, there: atop the stain was the black gooey remains of the plastic gas can, with the ashes of the matchbook next to it. But completely untouched, in the center of the stain on the ground, was that wretched fiend, the stalker of his nightmares: The Book of Agony. His head felt light, and his blood pumped heavily through his veins like a war drum.
“What do you WANT?!” Ben shrieked to the trees around him. He picked up the book and hurled it at the nearest one.
“I NEVER DID ANYTHING TO YOU!”
Ben stomped his foot into the melted gas can, smooshing the solidified remains into an indistinguishable pulp. He went over to where he’d thrown the book and punched the tree as hard as he could. He recoiled from the pain and cradled his bloody fist.
He’d never felt rage like this. The closest he’d come was when he beat up that kid on the bus, but that didn’t even closely compare to this. He wanted to break. He wanted to tear. He wanted to kill.
“You—stupid—piece of—fucking—SHIT!” he screamed, ripping out a page with each word.
“How’s your stupid book now, asshole?” ben yelled to the air around him.
He kicked the book again and pages flew around him in a blizzard of torment. He put his fists to the trees again and again, at first ignoring the pain, but then letting it fuel his rage. It was all he knew to do.
But eventually, he grew tired and gave the book one last kick before storming back to his grandparents’ house. How could he have been so fucking stupid? God, to think he was so pathetic as to actually think that none of it had been real. He punched himself in the jaw a few times, hot tears prickling his eyes. The blood from his knuckles stained his face. What was wrong with him? Jesus fucking Christ, what a goddamn scum-sucking piece of shit. There was nothing he could do. Absolutely nothing. Because he was too weak, too pathetic, too stupid to figure it out. The only thing he could possibly do would be to roll over and expose his belly to the grizzly claws of the Nameless like an obedient dog. Because that’s all he was: a fucking dog.
He fell to his knees and sobbed, though he had no tears. This was it. This was what his life had become. Ben was scared.
He’d been reduced to nothing.
* *     *     *  *
All Ben knew was that he was somewhere dark, chained to a wall. The skin of his wrists prickled beneath the tight choke of rusted shackles. He could see nothing. The broken bones in his legs felt as though they might break even more, but the damp, stony floor helped to numb the pain. He had no idea how he got there. All he knew was that somewhere along the way, in that expanse of black wintery woods, he’d passed out from a culmination of pain, exhaustion, hunger, and thirst. And now, here he was. Alone.
“Well now, this isn’t right, now, is it?” a voice chimed from the darkness. “Let’s get some light in here.”
A faint orange light appeared as a figure slid open a slat in a window beyond Ben’s reach. Bars blocked them from the outside world, letting in just enough light to illuminate the cold dungeon he seemed to be in. Every inch of the cell was covered in dirt, mud, mold, and grime. And in front of Ben, there were bars dividing the room, rusted green and orange. Ben noticed that blood also seemed to be splash haphazardly across the room. Directly across from him was a dark wooden door.
“Come, now, old buddy. Don’t just lie there, all crumpled up in a heap.”
The Nameless stepped from the shadows, Daniel’s features distorted into a terrifying shape.
Ben asked the first question that came to his mind: “What are you?”
The Nameless laughed, a sound that his ears were not prepared for, and he recoiled from the monster before him.
“You know,” he said, “I’ve been following you around for a while, now.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling as if lost in thought. “Oh, how well I’ve come to know you, Ben. We’re like old friends, you and me. Why, I’d say that I know you better than you do.”
Ben gritted his teeth.
“Perhaps you still think I’m the ghost of your old pal Daniel Mortley, eh?”
“Daniel was never cruel like you are.”
The Nameless laughed. “Ha! Well, I would know. You see, I got to know him a bit myself before I came to you. He was a good kid. I can see why you two were so close. It’s a shame I had to kill him.”
“You what?”
“Oh, yes. I most certainly did. It was no accident, like everyone in that stupid town thinks. No, my fun with him was over. I needed to move on. And wouldn’t it just be my luck that you, my good sir, were such a bright candidate.”
The Nameless sighed and grabbed the bars. He slumped his face against them.
“I like you, Ben. You’ve got a lot of sand. Well, maybe ‘like’ wouldn’t be the right word. I fucking hate your guts. But… I respect you. It’s taken me a long time to wear you down.”
“Is Daniel here, too?” Ben asked, afraid of what he might hear.
“Oh, my, yes. There’s a lot of people here. A lot of sad little souls like you. But… you’ll never get to see them. No, not ever. Never ever ever… ever. Alone forever.”
He eased himself up, hands in his pockets.
“I suppose you’d also like to know why I’m doing this?”
Ben nodded.
“Hmph. Well, I suppose I can grant you that. I’m feeling a bit generous at the moment. Though, I don’t like what you did to my friend, the book. I always found it amusing that if people think something’s cursed, that an easy fix is to just burn the damn thing. Hah! No, the book can’t be destroyed like that. Takes a lot more. No, all you’ll do is piss it off. Which you did. And then it cuts right to the chase and ends my fun. Because that’s why I do it, Ben. Because watching people suffer is the greatest joy I can ever experience. I could easily just find somebody and immediately get what I need from them. But that kind of life just sounds miserable. I like to grind people down to their cores. It’s amazing what people can do if you push them hard enough. And that’s all you are to me, Ben. A toy. I’m like a cat. Hiss!”
Ben jumped, which caused the Nameless to grin maliciously. “Now, to what I need from you.”
The Nameless straightened his back, and resumed in a sudden business-like tone, “Anyways, chit-chat aside, Ben, let’s cut to the chase. I need you to do something for me. Just one small little favor. Hell, if you do it, I might even let you go. Let you free and leave you to do whatever you please with the rest of your life.”
“What is it?” Ben asked, his heart racing. He had come to expect nothing but the worst.
“Well, you see, because you decided to try and burn my book, I can’t really have much fun with you anymore. But… I’m still hungry. Hungry for more. Hungry for blood.”
“Wha…?”
“Benjamin Ross, if you want to walk out a free man, and not stay here for all of conceivable eternity, then you must do me this one last favor. You have to kill your grandparents.”
= Chapter VIII =
“NO! NO! NO!”
“Ben! Ben! What is it?”
For a moment, Ben still thought he was in the dungeon, trapped with the Nameless. But then he felt the warm comforting embrace of his grandmother rock him gently.
“You okay?” Charlie asked from the doorway, still in his boxers.
“C-can’t breathe!” he cried, gasping for air. His lungs seemed to constrict within him.
Helen pulled away and put her hand on his head, calmly stroking his hair.
“Shh, shh…. It’s alright, it’s alright. We’re right here. Nothing can hurt you.”
Charlie sat at the foot of the bed and put a reassuring hand on Ben’s thigh.
“You’re fine. It was just a dream, right? Deep breaths, Ben. Deep breaths.”
Ben began to calm down and followed his grandfather’s instructions and focused his attention on the tick of the clock.
“Yeah,” he choked. “Just a dream.”
“It’s alright,” Helen soothed. “It’s alright. See? You’re home. You’re home, where you’re safe. Nothing but us. We’ll protect you.”
Ben’s breath slowed, as did his heart. He took in his surroundings, the dim glow of the moon through the blinds, the red glow of his alarm clock… the two comforting figures beside him.
I’m home, he told himself.
“You better?” Helen asked after a moment.
“Yeah.”
She looked him in the eyes, concern written all over her face.
“Do you need to sleep in our room, tonight? It’s okay if you do.”
“No,” he said. “No, I’ll be fine.”
“You sure, Ben?” Charlie urged. “Nobody’ll think the less of you.”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, sweetie. We’ll be right in our room down the hall if you need us, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Alright. Well, good night.”
“Good night.”
“We love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Good night, Ben.”
“Good night, grandpa.”
Charlie smiled at him as he exited the room, leaving the door cracked.
No, Ben thought. I won’t do it. I can’t do it. I’d rather die.
* *     *     *  *
“So, that’s the final verdict, huh?” the Nameless demanded. He stood inside the bars, towering over him.
Ben hawked a loogey on his shoes and said nothing. The Nameless raised a foot and observed the wad of spit.
He leaned down and put his face level with Ben.
“Now. I really think you should think about your decision before things get ugly.”
Ben hawked another loogey, right in the bastard’s eye.
“I take that as a ‘no.’ Very well. You’ve stated your position quite clearly, now I’ll state mine.”
He pulled out a long, needle-like knife with sharp prongs and held it in front of Ben’s eye.
“You know what they say. An eye for an eye.”
He jabbed the object through Ben’s eye, immeasurable pain blasting through his skull.
“Hold still, or else I’ll slip.”
Ben could hear muscle rip behind his screams of pain as his right eye was pulled away from his skull, blood, muscles, and nerves dangling out the empty socket.
“Oh, you think that was bad, huh? Well, I’ve got news for you, buddy. There’s a lot more where that came from. Like I said, you’ve got sand. But I’m starting to think you might have too much sand.”
Ben could feel the device being stabbed into him again, flesh tearing down his arm.
“PLEASE!” he screamed. “MAKE IT STOP!”
“Then rethink your position, Ben,” the Nameless snarled as he ripped open Ben’s right forearm.
“No! Please, anything else!”
“Then maybe I oughta make you… listen!”
The knife swiftly sliced off Ben’s left ear, and the Nameless held it before him.
“You can’t pass out from the pain, here. I can go for eternity like this. Now, what do you say? You gonna listen from here on out?”
“Okay,” Ben gasped as he hung his head in resignation.
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll do what you say…. I just want the pain to stop….”
“Very well. You can wake up, now. You’ll know what to do.”
* *     *     *  *
Ben awoke for the second time that night with tears stained down his face and his sheets wrapped like a mummy. He’d never felt so much physical relief before. No broken bones could compare. The thought of what might happen if he didn’t pull through was more than Ben could comprehend. It was enough to drive him mad.
It had to be now.
He unraveled himself from the sheets and put on his jeans, boots, coat, hat, and gloves. Outside, he could hear the wind howl furiously, and snow swirled past the windows. He picked up his bag and emptied its contents onto the floor, stuffing a few extra clothes into it, as well as a book or two. He snuck to the bathroom and, in the dark, grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste as well. He thought for a moment more before going to the kitchen, where he grabbed some food, as well. He saw his grandmother’s purse lying on the counter and grabbed the cash that was in her wallet. Ben hated himself more with everything he put into his bag. With a sigh, he put his backpack in his closet just in case he failed, and someone found it. He soundlessly snuck over to his grandparents’ bedroom down the hall and heard the quiet sounds of peaceful sleep.
He couldn’t let himself feel. Not now.
He wiped the sweat from his eyes and put his hand on the door of the hallway closet.
Creeaak!
He stopped and listened to the deafening silence.
Nothing.
With another sigh, he swung the door open as fast as he could, which gave only a brief and quiet squeal of protest.
Shit, he thought. I can’t reach the top shelf.
He noticed that on the floor was a plastic tub, and so he pulled it out just enough for him to grab a foothold and eased himself up. His feet rocked on the lid, and he hoped that he wouldn’t—
CRASH!
He heard a snort, followed by a “Honey, wake up.”
In panic, he climbed inside the tub and closed the closet just as the bedroom door opened, followed by the sounds of his grandfather’s feet as he slunk past.
Ben’s head throbbed from where he’d hit the floor, but the empty tub was too cramped to move. It was hot in there, and his breath rang in his ears like the memory of a ghost, deformed by death.
“I thought I heard Ben scream,” he heard Helen whisper from the doorway.
“Hold on,” Charlie answered, “I’ll grab the gun.”
Ben’s heart jumped and thundered as he heard the closet door open. It didn’t help that he thought he felt something crawl on his arm and tickle the hairs that stood on end.
After a moment, the door was closed again, and he heard Charlie make his way into Ben’s room.
“Ben? Ben?”
“Where is he, Charlie?”
“I don’t know. Ben?”
“Do you see him?” Helen asked a few minutes later. Sweat trickled freely down Ben’s temple.
“No. Call the police.”
Helen raced to the kitchen, where Ben heard her dial the phone.
“Jesus Christ,” Charlie whispered to himself. “God… Ben….”
“Yes,” Helen said from the kitchen, loud and clear, “somebody just broke in our house and kidnapped our grandson. No, we don’t know where they went. We heard our grandson scream and what sounded like something break, and when we investigated our grandson was gone. Yes. Yes. No. Yes. Okay, thank you.”
“They coming?” Charlie croaked.
“Yes. They’ll be here in ten minutes.”
Ben didn’t hear them say another word, but only their footsteps. His body was limp, and his eyes focused on nothing except the dark void in that plastic bin. He didn’t think, he didn’t feel. His mind was numb.
Eventually, he heard the approach of tires, followed by voices. He knew that he only had moments to act, so he quickly scrambled out of the tub and escaped the closet. He leaped up and grabbed the string to the attic door in the ceiling and pulled down the ladder. Quickly, he climbed up and pulled the ladder back, gasping reflexively at the cacophony of noise it made. Mere seconds later, he heard the front door open as heavy boots stormed the house. Luckily, they never thought to check the attic.
He stayed up there the whole night, trying not to fall asleep and venture in that torture chamber with the Nameless. It was the longest night he’d experienced.
The next morning, he heard his grandparents get ready to leave, and, with his head pressed against the floor, he gathered that his grandparents were headed to the police station for a few hours. This gave him some mild relief, as his stomach was on fire from hunger, and his mouth was parched.
They finally left, at long last. Ben’s impatience made his legs itch. He waited a few more minutes just to be sure, and then made his way down the ladder. He made himself a large bowl of cereal that he couldn’t finish and watched TV. He wasn’t even really aware of what it played; his mind was far away. He could barely comprehend what he had become anymore, or what he planned to do. But eventually, he heard tires approach the house early in the afternoon, so he quickly turned off the TV and raced up the ladder. He brought his empty bowl in case they noticed. Eventually, Ben dozed off to sleep, tired beyond belief. But for once, he had no dreams.
* *     *     *  *
The air was frigid when he awoke, despite the heavy coat wrapped around his body. Outside, the wind howled furiously, and Ben couldn’t help but shudder. His eyes were bleary, and his face felt bloated. He didn’t have to remember where he was, nor what had transpired previously. It was as if somebody had paused a videotape and had pressed Play again.
Silently, he eased over to the ladder and pressed his ear against the floor.
Nothing.
Suppressing a cough, he eased the ladder down. It creaked slightly, but not so much that he thought it would wake them.
Their bedroom door was closed, but not unlocked. He eased his timid body through. The warmth from the portable heater they’d placed in the corner brought flexibility in his muscles as he observed the two peaceful bodies. There was no sound save the blizzard outside and the warm click of the heater.
Ben heard his grandfather mention to Helen earlier, before he fell asleep, that he would keep the gun in his nightstand, just in case the intruders came back. With apprehension, Ben carefully made his way over. The sounds of his boots were slow and coldly methodical. He felt like a disgusting creature of the night; but he had no time for such thoughts.
He reached the nightstand and eased it open. The dry wood scraped against itself, but not so much to wake the bodies. He looked inside, his eyes adjusted enough to the dark to make out the shape of his grandfather’s revolver with its polished cherry handle that glinted in the night. He wrapped his fingers around it and felt the familiar weight. He thought back to what his grandfather had taught him. No… no, he didn’t need to think about that. He couldn’t. He needed to be single-minded, devoid of emotion… devoid of humanity….
Ben checked the chamber and raised the gun. The iron sight was pointed it at his grandfather’s oblivious face, peacefully unaware. This was it. This is what it all led up to. The moment Ben would become a pawn, a shell stripped of the very essence that made him who he was. He flicked off the safety. His finger on the hammer, the soft click resounded around the quiet room.
Charlie opened his eyes.
= Chapter IX =
“Ben…?” his grandfather whispered. Charlie rubbed his eyes and made a motion to lean up but saw the gun and froze.
“Ben… why do you have the gun?” he asked.
The windowpanes clattered against the windows.
Helen groaned next to him.
“Ungh, Charlie?”
“Nothing, Helen. Go back to sleep.”
“Did you say something about Ben?”
“No, just go back to sleep.”
Ben’s hands shook and his breath came in jagged gasps.
“What did you say about a gun?”
“Nothing, Helen. You were just dreaming.”
Ben swallowed, his feet heavy as lead, his eyes hot as a furnace. How could he possibly have agreed to do this? These were the two people who single-handedly pulled him out of that dark abyss. They had done nothing but open their arms out to him and show him the kind of unconditional love he’d never experienced before. And it had been wonderful.
Helen rolled over and saw the scene. She didn’t say a word, but only stared, eyes glazed in shock.
“Ben, why do you have my gun?” Charlie asked again, more forcibly this time.
Ben wanted to answer. He wanted to put down the gun, but his body wouldn’t allow it. He could feel snot run down his face and silent tears try to pry free.
“Ben….”
“He made me!” Ben blurted, his mouth acting without permission.
“What do you mean, he made you?”
The heater clicked loudly and hissed.
“I-I’m s…sorry….”
“Ben, you don’t have to do this,” Charlie said. His hands slowly crept to his chest.
“I don’t want to. I d-don’t want to!” Ben gasped.
“You don’t have to, Ben. You can put the gun down, and we can forget all about this.”
That was all Ben wanted to do. But he couldn’t. His arms were completely unresponsive.
“H…he made me!” he choked. His chin quivered and snot trickled into his mouth.
“Ben, just put the gun down.”
“I can’t! I can’t!”
“Why not, Ben?”
“My arms won’t let me.”
Ben blinked, and two tears rolled down his cheeks and fell to the floor. He looked in the window and saw the pale face of the Nameless leer through the frosted glass. He whimpered and started to hyperventilate.
“Ben, just put the gun down!”
"I CAN’T! I CAN’T! I-I C-CAN’T!”
“Ben, just put the goddamn gun down and we can talk about thi—”
BANG!
Blood and bits of brain and skull exploded back and splattered across the wall and all over the bed. Ben was vaguely aware of the sound of his grandmother’s screams, the brains of her husband on her face. But Ben couldn’t think. He was locked. He could only react. But he couldn’t. Could he do it again? He looked back to the window and saw that the Nameless was laughing. Ben began to lower the gun, but the Nameless pulled out the torture device from before and ran it up his arm. No blood came out, and Ben didn’t care to keep looking. He had no choice.
BANG!
The bullet pierced his grandmother’s chest, and she rolled onto the floor in a fit of gurgled screams as blood filled her lungs.
Ben slowly walked around the bed with the gun pointed at her.
“B…Ben….” she blubbered. Her chest twitched. “Why?”
“I love you, grandma.”
She looked deep into his eyes.
BANG!
Her lifeless corpse slumped to the floor and leaned against the nightstand. The wind screaming outside.
The gun dropped to the floor. Ben didn’t know how long he kneeled there, staring at the hole in Helen’s head. Her glazed eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling. Her flesh turned cold.
The panels of the windows clashed against the side of the house and snapped Ben out of his trance. He picked up the gun, turned the safety back on, and stuffed it in his jacket. He walked out the back door as if he were a corpse.
There were two gas cans left in the shed. Without thinking, he grabbed them both and went inside. He didn’t notice that he’d left the door open, and snow had begun to pile in the house.
Ben made his way into their room and doused the bodies in gasoline. He then poured the gas around the bedroom, followed by the rest of the house. He used every last drop.
He grabbed his bag on his way out and stepped out the back door. He lit a match from the shed and threw it onto a small puddle he’d made in the doorway. The flames grew quickly, but he didn’t care to watch. He wanted to leave as soon as he could.
Ben didn’ know how long he’d trudged through the raging snow, stumbling, and slipping along the road, before he saw a pair of headlights approach from behind. But he had no idea what he was doing, his plan only went this far. And desperate to get out of the cold, he turned around and flailed his arms on the right side of the road.
After a moment, the headlights turned into a truck, and the passenger window rolled down to reveal a man in a cowboy hat.
“C’mon, boy! You gon’ freeze them ears off out here!”
For a moment, Ben thought he saw a second figure in the truck. Just a trick of the light.
Eager to escape the cold, Ben clambered into the truck and put his bag by his feet. He made sure the gun was secure in his coat pocket.
“Mighty cold out to be walkin’ along,” the man said with a southern drawl. “You lost or somethin’?”
“Yes, sir,” Ben gasped as he stuck his hands out to the vents.
“Well, what’s your name, kid?”
“Charlie,” Ben said. It was the first name he thought of. Probably not a good one to go with. His stomach sank, but it was too late now. He had no choice but to stick with it.
“Where’re your parents, Charlie?”
Ben scrambled around in his head trying to think of an answer.
“I… I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t seen them in a long time.”
The man shuffled in his seat and glanced in the rearview mirror as he grabbed a wad of dip.
“You homeless?” he asked with fingers in his mouth. The truck bounced up and down violently.
“I guess so,” Ben replied. At this point, he was just trying to follow along with whatever the cowboy said.
“I see. Well, m’name’s Teddy.”
He stuck out his right hand, and Ben shook it tentatively.
“Where ya headed?” Teddy asked.
Ben shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno.”
“Well, I’m visitin’ up from Texas for a few days, stayin’ at a buddy’s house. I reckon you can stay with us for the night until this blizzard passes through. Shoot, ain’t this somethin’ though? I ain’t never seen anything like it. Hell, did you see that house back there? Thing was up in flames. Good thing somebody called 911, ‘cause the firefighters was already down there tryin’ to put it out.”
“Yeah, I saw,” Ben answered. He stared at the sea of white in front of them. He’d hadn’t heard the sirens.
“You from here?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
Teddy nodded. “Yeah, I lived up here a few years a while back. But I got homesick, so I went back home.” He pointed at a wooden crucifix that hung from the rearview. “See that there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That was my old man’s. He was a pastor down at our church. And so was his dad, and his dad before him. But I never really cared much for preachin’.”
“What do you do instead?” Ben inquired, trying to keep his mind away from darker prospects.
“Oh, I work with cattle,” he sighed. “I work for my cousin over at a slaughterhouse. But don’t let that make you turn your head; we’re kind as can be to those cows. I mostly run ‘em through the dip. Oh hey, I think this is the turn, right here.”
They turned right onto a gravelly path that went deeper into the woods. About five minutes passed by according to the clock before they arrived at a run-down looking shack. Ben was observing the dilapidated building when he heard a faint click and felt something cold pressed against his head.
“You say a goddamn word, or try to run, and I blow your goddamn brains out, kid. You got it?” Teddy snarled in his ear.
Ben didn’t answer.
“I said, you got it?”
“Yes, sir,” he gulped.
“Alright,” he hissed. “Now, unbuckle that seat belt and climb out the truck on my side. Slowly.”
Ben nodded his head a fraction of an inch and did as he was told. Teddy climbed out of the truck and kept the pistol pointed at Ben’s as he grabbed a lantern from under the seat and lit it. Ben thought about using his own gun, but Ben knew there was no way he could outdraw him.
“See?” Teddy said after Ben’s feet hit the ground. “Wasn’t too bad, was it? Now get the hell inside, boy.”
Ben shuffled his feet towards the door, every warning about strangers who wanted to hurt him he’d heard as a kid firing off like alarms in his head. How could he have been so stupid? If he’d just kept moving, if he’d never tried to get the driver’s attention—
“Move it!”
Ben hurried inside, painfully aware of the gun pointed at him. His feet tripped over some debris. Looking down, he saw that trash and rubble covered the floor like moss.
“Alright,” Teddy leered as he closed the door behind them. For a second, Ben had an opportunity to shoot the man, but he missed it.
“Now take off your clothes, boy.”
“W-what?”
“I said take ‘em off.”
As Ben began to take off his coat, there was the sound of an owl overhead. Teddy jerked his head up for a moment, and Ben seized the opportunity. He grabbed the gun from his pocket and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Teddy heard the click, and Ben realized that the safety was still on. He unclicked it, but right as he fired, Teddy did too. The side of Teddy’s face exploded onto the wall, and Ben was knocked violently to the floor. He wasn’t even aware of the pain at first, but then his chest erupted into flames of agony. He became aware of something warm trickling down his chest. He stuck his hands under his shirt.
The bullet had pierced Ben’s lung.
He pulled out his fingers to look at the blood and thought of his grandparents. And then Ben thought of Penny and wished that he could see her now. He wished that she could be there to hold him, to tell him that everything was alright. But he knew that the last time he would ever see her was when she told him to call her before driving away. But he never did. He never would.
His vision faded to black.
* *     *     *  *
Ben awoke in darkness. There was just enough light to see the silhouette of a figure behind the bars.
“You’re all mine, now, Ben,” the familiar voice said.
He felt the cold metal around his wrists and ankles. He blinked, his single eye adjusting to the darkness. On the floor, beyond the bars, lied the dead bodies of Charlie and Helen Ross, their glassy eyes staring right at him, just out of reach. Teddy’s face came into view.
“All mine.”
Originally Written 2013
Current Draft Written 2018
Published 2022
Category:Banned In CP
Category:Beings
Category:Books
Category:Longpasta