Sleep Tight

A series of short horror stories written by me.


8. Loosing Face

Ever since I was born my best friend has been my twin brother Tommy. We didn’t have an easy life you know. Are sister committed suicide and are brother has severe Xeroderma pigmentosum so he has to avoid sunlight.

When we were 10 Tommy got Alopecia and lost all his hair. Other kids made fun of him but he didn’t care. That was the thing about Tommy. He always found a reason to smile. Then one day when we were about 14 something awful happened.

We were in our woodwork class making kids toys. Tommy went to wait for the sander (which was in use). He was almost there when someone pushed him. He fell forward onto the sander, which was still turned on. There was a grinding sound and a scream. Everyone looked round. A lot of them looked away quickly again. Who could blame them? My brother’s face had been practically torn off.  There was a lot of blood. (No duh you say). He was rushed to hospital.

He survived but his face was never the same. He had no nose, no lips and his eye lids were in tatters. Mum wouldn’t look at him.

The bullying got worse after that. Kids called him Voldemort and asked him how he ‘smelled’? My brother kept on smiling but I knew he was crying inside.

A year had passed when it happened. It was front page news. A boy had been mutilated in his bed. The attack had so severe he had to go into intensive care. I stared at the photos. The after one made me feel sick. His nose had been cut off; one of his eyes had been gouged out. His lips had been slashed and a grin was carved into his face. I only recognised him from the before photo. It was the boy who had pushed my brother.

“Have you seen this?” I asked him pointing to it. Tommy just nodded. “Yeh a tragedy.” There was an edge to his voice I didn’t like.

The next day it was in the news again. Someone else had been found mutilated in their beds. This time a girl from are school. The word Bitch had been carved onto her face.

It kept happening, kids we knew getting mutilated. Some had their eyes gouged out, some had smile carved onto them. Some had their noses cut of and others had cruel words carved into their foreheads.

The news said the only connection was they went to the same school. But there was one other connection. They all bullied my brother.

Frightened by the news mum told us to be careful. Tommy just looked at her a mischievous look in his eye and said ‘They won’t come for us.” His voice was way to matter of fact.

The same night I heard the door creak open. I climbed out of bed and crept to the stairs. At the bottom stood Tommy in his pyjamas clutching a blood stained knife. He was grinning at me. “It’s ok Carrie. I’ve just been out for a walk.”  I knew exactly what he’d been out doing. I ran to my parents room yelling at them to get up. “Tommy’s been out! He’s got a knife. It’s covered in blood!” I screamed.

My dad ran past me and down the stairs. He snatched the knife out of Tommy’s hand and threw it across the room. He wrestled Tommy to the ground. Tommy was shrieking like something from beyond the grave. Mum quickly phoned the police.

It turns out Tommy went insane from all the emotional and mental torment those kids put him through. He broke into their houses and destroyed their faces. “So their lives would be ruined.”  He said. “But how did you stop them screaming?” I asked when I visited him at the hospital. “Knock out drugs. Few drops and the family won’t wake for anything.”

The moral of this story (yes there is a moral) is: Never push someone. One of you will have to fall.

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