it matters not
the lines
the screaming
the pain
it’s everywhere
why?
no one cares
somewhere
maybe they do
breezes on the beach
wind in your hair
why can’t it be?
I would die
a thousand times
just for this
once
my heart would be
so full
love
it’s all that matters
THE QUEEN OF HELL
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AND…
“Murder is murder no matter who commits it…or why.” – Casey Novak, Law & Order SVU
They told me I was crazy but I know I’m not.
When I saw him step outside that coffee shop I went cold.
I remembered every detail of his face.
It had been ingrained in my memory since the day he abducted me 5 years ago.
Nothing would make that nightmare go away.
And how could they have let him go free?
They said it was consensual, I didn’t fight back, I never protested.
But he had drugged me, restrained me, gagged me…how could I?
I still have no idea how long I was there.
They said it was just a few days but it felt like weeks.
He was always there…talking to me, touching me, kissing me…
and yes, raping me.
So many times.
The first time I felt like I was being ripped apart.
So much pain.
After a while I just went numb.
I’m pretty sure I blacked out a few times.
But he wouldn’t shut up.
The whole time, every time, he kept talking.
How he loved me.
How we’d be together forever.
I just didn’t know it yet.
How he’d always watched me.
Stalker.
I’d felt for a while I was being followed but…
I shrugged it off.
He had to show me how good he was for me.
This was his insane way of proving it?
I just had to get used to him and everything would be ok.
I never said a word even after he removed the gag though he screamed at me…
beat me harder for my silence.
I didn’t care.
I just wanted to die.
Next thing I knew I was in the hospital.
I don’t remember much for days after that, not even how I got there.
He had left the basement window open just to get some fresh air.
Someone says they heard me screaming.
They said I was almost dead when they found me.
Still he got off.
Someone forgot to sign something somewhere in the proper spot and he was released on a technicality.
I remember screaming at him in court.
He looked at me with no expression, no emotion.
Said I enjoyed it…
and that he still loved me.
That eventually I would come to understand.
I never felt safe after that.
I tried moving, even changed my name.
But he was everywhere, I saw him in everyone.
I could hardly even leave my apartment.
5 years of torture and he was still free.
Seeing him after so long brought it all back.
My knees started to buckle…
I almost passed out but managed to grab onto a corner bench next to me and sat down.
He was on his phone, didn’t see me, but I somehow came to my senses.
I followed him all the way home.
They didn’t find us for 5 days.
Seems as his boss complained that he’d missed work.
He didn’t see me sneak up behind him.
When he opened the door I shoved him inside and he fell.
There was a lamp right inside on a table and I picked it up…
knocked him out with it.
I left fingerprints everywhere.
He woke up after I’d dragged him onto the bed and tied him up.
On his back.
He tried screaming through the duct tape I found but I couldn’t understand.
Didn’t want to…
didn’t care.
I needed something…long & hard.
Sodomy with a coke bottle is apparently not a thing he enjoys.
I wanted him to suffer as much as I had all those years ago.
Over and over again.
I screamed at him, beat him with his belt until he bled.
Found a baseball bat in his closet and smashed his knees.
Started beating his head with it.
That’s when he passed out for good.
Even then I couldn’t stop myself.
I started crying.
His head was nothing by then but a mangled, pulpy mess…
so much blood
Everything I did to him made me remember even more vividly what he did to me.
Still…I didn’t care.
And I didn’t stop.
Not til the cops dragged me away.
They couldn’t help me, couldn’t protect me or anyone else from him.
What if he’d done it to someone else?
They had no proof of that but it’s always possible.
I confessed.
Never went to trial.
I laughed during the whole process.
I was just glad he was dead.
They told me I was crazy.
No…I’m not.
THE QUEEN OF HELL
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AND…
Brenda sat on the couch, silently staring at the man passed out in the recliner. The tears on her face had dried, leaving only feelings of anger mixed with her physical pain.
He had abused her in ways no father should. Even worse, he let his friends take turns…after the first two or three she had lost count of how many times her bedroom door had opened and shut during the night. She honestly didn’t even know who they were because she kept her eyes closed the whole time until she heard their cars leaving early in the morning.
Feeling somewhat safe then she half dressed & had ventured out into the living room but he was still awake, sitting on the couch drunk and cleaning his revolver. When he saw her he laughed and asked her how she enjoyed the previous nights festivities. When she began to cry he got angry, threw her on the couch, ripped off her panties, shoved his gun inside her and told her if she ever said a word about it he would kill her. Then he smiled, cuffed her, pulled off his pants and started all over again.
Watching him sleep she wondered how easily it might be to kill him, but something deep inside told her not to. He was her father after all and in some sick, perverted, twisted way she knew he loved her. But what he did to her was wrong. If her mother was still alive she would’ve never allowed it but mom died when she was 8…the abuse started soon after. She was 13 now & had started to develop early…way more than most of the other girls her age which brought her a lot of unwanted attention. She didn’t understand why the boys kept staring at her but if it had anything to do with what her father did to her constantly she wanted no part of it.
His gun was still laying on the table but she wasn’t quite sure how it worked. He had never taught her how to use it and she didn’t want to just harm him, she wanted him dead. There were all those knives in the kitchen too but she didn’t want to stab him in the wrong spot because if it didn’t kill him then what’s the point.
She really wasn’t sure what to do so she thought maybe while he was still asleep should take a walk to clear her head. Maybe she would think of something.
They lived about two blocks from the train station in a very run down part of town. Most of the houses in their area were either abandoned or close to being condemned and hers was one of the only few left on their street that was still occupied. Mainly because dad didn’t have enough money to move them and there was nothing else they could afford. She was walking behind the station house when she heard someone crying, like a small child. She walked around to the front of the building and saw a woman standing at the ticket counter talking to the agent. Close to the edge of the platform there was a small boy, maybe around 3 or 4 years old. He was dressed real fancy in nice new clothes bought from a store in town. All she ever got to wear were old items from the Salvation Army store or the donation boxes at church. She noticed a red spot on his leg and figured a mosquito or something else had bit him which is why he was crying. Snot was running down his nose, dripping on his new shirt which made her angry. He was just a kid, didn’t really know any better but it irked her that he was all clean & nice, messing up his neat clothes while she was dirty & dressed in hand-me-downs. He noticed her as she walked closer and smiled, gurgling and trying to babble at her. She shushed him and motioned for him to follow her as she walked backwards towards the woods. He slowly made his way down the steps as she looked towards the counter…neither his mother nor the ticket agent were looking in their direction. He caught up to her but tripped on a small branch and started crying again.
His mother yelled at him without even turning around “Be quiet Tommy, I’m almost done!”
Brenda smiled & reached out to him “Don’t be afraid Tommy, we’re gonna go play in the woods. Wouldn’t you like that?” He nodded at her smiling his toothy grin as he took her hand and she led him away.
The police had been looking for Tommy for 3 days before they found his body in the woods, buried in a small shallow grave covered with leaves. Something had been gnawing on his face…part of his nose was missing and there were bite marks on his lips and cheeks. Several fingers were missing and part of his left leg was gone. It made the news all over town and everyone around came for the funeral, Brenda included but her father was conspicuously absent. She watched Tommy’s mother, sobbing uncontrollably while the man behind her held her steady. It was probably Tommy’s father. He was handsome, well-dressed & you could see the pain in his face as he tried to hold himself together. Suddenly she recognized him…he was a well-known lawyer whose face was plastered on several billboards through town. If she had known that then maybe she wouldn’t have done all those things to Tommy. But then she realized it never would have mattered. She had been so angry, so hurt…she needed to inflict pain on something else. Or someone. Tommy had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He never even saw it coming…he was so clumsy falling over everything as they walked away & crying that she knew his mom would come looking soon so she picked him up and ran, carrying him deeper into the woods. She sat him down on the ground and he was momentarily distracted by a frog that came hopping by, long enough for her to find a large rock nearby that wasn’t too heavy for her to pick up. He was crawling along the ground slowly when the rock came down hard on the back of his head. She knew all about soft spots on babies heads and figured as long as she got close to it then maybe he would be dazed enough so he wouldn’t struggle too much. He never even screamed…it killed him instantly which made her even angrier. She wanted him to suffer and she couldn’t even hear the sounds of his screams when she pulled out her pocketknife and stabbed his lifeless body over and over until her hand ached. She had sat & cried a bit out of frustration before trying to find something to hide him with. The rock she had found had a sharp, flat edge on it and she used it to dig out a small depression in the ground to put his body in. The ground was covered in old leaves which she used to cover the grave. She stamped them down to put more & more on before falling back, exhausted. The whole day played over & over in her head but she felt no better than before. The anger she’d felt towards her father was just deepening so if this didn’t cull her need to inflict pain she wasn’t sure if anything would. She had slowly gotten to her feet before walking back towards the house to find her dad still asleep. All the feelings she had for him earlier were gone. He was just a sack of meat that caused her pain and he needed to pay for it. She had found the large butcher knife in the kitchen and sat on the coffee table in front of him, plotting, looking over him slowly trying to figure out where to cut him first. Somehow she needed to incapacitate him so he wouldn’t move much or make a lot of noise. Back in the kitchen she found some duct tape and a long extension cord…he was so drunk he didn’t even flinch when she placed the tape over his mouth and tied the cord around his stomach and the chair.
By the time they found his body, several days after Tommy’s funeral, she was long gone. Someone had called the cops because she had missed some school and he was found still tied to his chair. The knife was protruding from his face, lodged deep in his left eye but he’d been stabbed 47 times, 3 fingers sliced off and his left ear was missing. They never found it, or her.
THE QUEEN OF HELL
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AND…
Do you see this knife in my hand?
Yeah, I can see that you do ’cause your eyes are bulging out of their sockets.
You really need to stop squirming…well actually you don’t because the more you squirm the tighter the ropes get & the more it cuts off your circulation that causes you more pain which is really all I want.
I want you to feel as much pain as you’ve caused me because I can’t stop thinking about you.
It’s been absolute torture no matter what I do.
I’ve tried cutting you out of my life.
I’ve tried ignoring you.
I’ve tried everything I can to get you out of my head but you keep popping up all over. Every time I turn around there you are so maybe this is the only way.
Maybe if I gouge out your eyes with this knife I won’t be able to see you in my dreams. Maybe.
And maybe if I cut out your tongue I won’t be able to hear your voice in my head anymore.
Maybe…maybe not…but I guess I should give it a shot.
Who knows, it might work.
I sit and watch, mesmerized, my eyes slowly widening as I watch the pale flesh separate from the bone.
It sliced off so evenly, only a small piece falls to the floor so I stoop to pick it up and rinse it off in the sink next to the table.
Dark red stains my fingertips and palm as I turn it over in my hand, suddenly wondering what it may taste like.
I run upstairs quickly and return within a few minutes carrying a skillet, some oil, salt, pepper, a knife & fork and a plate.
I have a small hot plate down here in the basement but I don’t use it much really because there’s never been any reason to…until now.
I noticed her staring at me, her eyes slowly glazing over with fear and pain.
Not a word she says as I have taking care of that and removed her tongue. The only thing she can do is emit a low gurgle.
Smiling, I decided to cook the tongue along with the other and just make a regular dinner out of it. I think I have some salad upstairs too left over from last night to round everything out.
It’s interesting how the blood cooks, sizzling & browning a bit around the edge of the small puddle and it flips nicely when I turn the meat over. Pulling a bit of it away I let it rest on my tongue, savoring it as it melts away. I turn off the heat, not wanting to overcook it but not sure how to tell since I’ve never cooked human before. It smells a bit like hamburger. The tongue is thick and chewy but not bad, a bit hard to swallow though. The meat, however, is amazing. Crunchy around the edges but nice & tender, like cutting into a thick pork chop. A bit of muscle is still attached to it and it just adds a bit to the flavor. I just hope she doesn’t die anytime soon…the next bit may not taste as good. Everyone knows fresh is best.
The Queen of Hell
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and coming soon…my latest collection…
it’s all too much
I can’t seem to make heads or tails of it
why does everything have to be so final?
there are just too many raw emotions going through me right now
nothing makes sense
my head hurts from all the tears
and I’m hungry
I haven’t eaten anything today
I can’t sleep either
I’ve tried
I’m so exhausted
my body feels as if it’s worn to a frazzle
but the Sandman has disappeared
he’s such a bastard
never around when you need him
the wind seems to be blowing relentlessly outside
the song from my windchimes is a strange comfort
I wonder if she’s stopping by to say hello?
and now it seems as if someone is knocking at my door
it is my darling Reaper
his cold embrace offering little comfort
as my keening continues
The Queen of Hell
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I love the feel
of steel
the sharpness
as it flows
swiftly
across your flesh
the brightness
pooling
dripping
sanguine fluid
lifeblood
beautifully red
staining
your milky white
skin
chest heaving
your blue orbs
staring
your last breath
coughing
choking
music to my ears
The Queen of Hell
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I’m so hungry
I can’t remember
how long it’s been since I’ve eaten
I almost feel ill
my stomach is aching
cramping
and here comes the dizziness
I can barely even stand up
I’m really not sure
how much longer I’ll last
but…
wait…
what is that smell?
that delicious aroma…
where is it coming from?
my head isn’t very clear
foggy in fact
I can hardly focus
and my vision is so blurry
but that scent…
so mouthwatering
so close
ahhhh there it is
I found it
no
it’s ok
don’t struggle
please
it will all be over soon
The Queen of Hell
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I’m surrounded by nutbars
They permeate the very air I breathe
I cannot escape
hurting them makes no difference
the screaming and wailing
constant crying
only increases the annoyance
maybe if I killed them all
I could finally be free
and a celebratory bloodbath
would make me feel much better
The Queen of Hell
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I sit here quietly contemplating
barely breathing
my fevered brain
trying to decide
which road to travel
the age-old battle rages on
deep inside me
like a demon waiting
screaming to break free
whispering
her secret machinations
there is no silence there
I long to break the chains
loose her on the world
but such catastrophic consequences
horrifying atrocities
would surely mean my end
and not every person here
is as evil as she says…
or are they?
could she possibly
be telling the truth?
do they all secretly wish
that I would die?
are they all plotting
to kill me?
I have seen Him
the one you call Death
that lovely sweet fragrance
of nightshade
permeating the air
a regular visitor
to this place of nightmares
He has no want of me
not yet
the world is still waiting
for my bloody masterpiece
The Queen of Hell
pick up a copy of my new book on Amazon available in paperback and for Kindle
Words From The Underground 