The Horror You Inspire

The days changed like you wouldn't believe. When he was here, the grass was green, the flowers were pink, & the night was so bright. Life had sunshine & smiles, and all those things us pessimist's despise. Home wasn't like it used to be, because a house was never home, & he was never really planted like the flowers that lead up to their house. He was home, and anywhere they went, as long as they were together, they were home. There is, in fact, no place like it. After he died, everything suddenly lost taste, like he had taken it with him. So, she had to become friendly with the darkness and all sorts of scum, like the sewer rats & the Venus fly traps that she thought sometimes talked to her. She had become comfortably numb. All the animals spoke highly of him, and they only really fear the Seventh Son, his offspring. It wasn't quite prophecy, but his rage & evil were predicted not long ago; regardless, she ignored it for as long as she could, because ignorance is bliss, right?

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18. Chapter 17

When Maybelyn wakes, two full days later, she finds herself unsurprisingly tied to a chair. 

"Please, I'll do anything" Maybelyn hears as she regains her consciousness. 

"That's what they all say, but do they deliver? Well, no" Mitchell retorts to the man crying. 

Maybelyn opens her eyes to assess the situation, and almost screams when she sees the state of the man across from her, also tied up on a chair, but soaked in his own blood and missing a few fingers that are bleeding profusely. 

"Miss! Please help me!" He screams as soon as he sees Maybelyn awake. 

"Her? Help you? She's tied up too, you damn moron. Plus, she doesn't care about you, she probably can't even tell you your name" Mitchell says. 

Maybelyn groans, because firstly, he is covered in blood and of course she wouldn't be able to recognise him, and she has quite a few customers that only come once, and it's hard to remember their names after not seeing them again. 

"I'm sorry. You're covered in blood, and I know you've only been here once before? So I can't remember, but that doesn't mean I don't care, I want to get out of here as much as you do" Maybelyn says apologetically. 

"Charles" the man cries. 

"I remember you Charles. You're a good guy. I'm so sorry this had to happen" Maybelyn says sympathetically, because she really does feel bad for another victim of her son, which is result of her opening a shop in the first place and letting him do what he wanted whenever he wanted as a child, and that does not communicate love. 

"What did I do to deserve this?" Charles begs. 

"Well, see there pal... Your existence is enough for me" Mitchell says as a matter of fact. 

"Am I going to die?" Charles cries. 

"You're going to wish you'd had died a long time ago, but yes, you're going to die tonight because I am in the mood for a murder" Mitchell says as he paces with his knife in hand. 

As he passes by Charles chair he slices him and douses him in medical alcohol which makes Charles skin sear. 

When Charles screams too loud Mitchell gets tired of him quickly, and uses a barbed wire to gag him with, so each time he screams his mouth gets sliced till he learns not to make a sound but cringe so hard in agony. 

Maybelyn cries like never before, because hearing the details of torture is heavily brutal, but seeing it in front of you is absolutely unbearable. 

"Please, just leave him alone, Mitchell" Maybelyn begs. 

"You know him?" Charles screams. 

"You shut up!" Mitchell screams at Charles. 

"You! Don't ever call me that again, and stop standing up for them like you can actually do something, because you can't!" Mitchell yells at Maybelyn and picks her chair up and drags it to the closet and shoves her inside it. 

Maybelyn bawls in the 90 degree heat of the tiny closet and tries to block her hearing as Mitchell completely destroys another of of Maybelyn's clients, but in the end they're more than clients, they're her responsibility and she's failed them all. 

Charles screams in anguish and Maybelyn can not begin to understand his fear and pain, but feels such a deep hurt inside herself that she has a different type of pain, which hurts almost the same. 

He screams until his lungs go hoarse, and at that point Maybelyn has never hated her life so much, considering in her mind just how many death's that have been because of her. 

"Enough wailing, woman!" Mitchell screams as he opens the door to the closet, and the temperature difference between the closet and the house hits Maybelyn like a tidal wave and cause her to pass out. 

Regaining consciousness again, Maybelyn is still tied to a chair, and she is getting repeatedly slapped by Mitchell. 

Maybelyn lifts her head just enough to be able to look up at Charles, and he's not a pretty sight. 

Charles is a mess of cuts and blood and missing fingers and exposed flesh and he's too horrifying to look at, which is not his fault of course, but Mitchell's. 

"He looks great, doesn't he?" Mitchell taunts. 

"Want to know the best part?" He adds as he walks over to Charles.

"He's still alive" Mitchell says and lifts a heart monitor which still shows Charles heart beat. 

"Put him out of his misery you insufferable bastard" Maybelyn demands. 

"Feisty! ...He needs to marinade" Mitchell retorts. 

Maybelyn has uncontrollable waterworks as she sits tied to the chair, completely unable to help the poor man, and can't help but feel guilty and so utterly filthy. 

"What can I do to stop you from killing my customers? I'll do whatever you want?" Maybelyn begs, and is completely genuine. 

"There's nothing you can do for me, woman. You have brought me into this world which was your biggest mistake, and I would give anything to have had never been born... You've done quite enough" Mitchell states.

"There has to be something!?" Maybelyn exclaims. 

"Yeah. Go back in time, and never meet dad. Ignore the ghost of your grandfather, and life a happy life" Mitchell spits.

"You've killed my only angel, and time travel wouldn't be possible now because the last account was 1933!" Maybelyn yells. 

"The plague of each is by design. You have to sleep in the bed you made, and lick the knife you cooked with. My birth is your fault, so you will suffer the consequences" Mitchell ever-so poetically says and then knocks Maybelyn out cold, leaving the room. 

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