by Julien Gregg


This story is a work of fiction its characters do not exist outside the story. Any resemblance to living people or places is strictly coincidence. This story is ©2012 Julien Gregg. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This story contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

WARNING: This story contains scenes depicting rape, torture, viloence and murder. This story may not appeal to everyone. Please take extreme caution when reading this story.


Aubry James brushed his grandmother's hair back from her face and leaned over the bed to kiss her forehead as he cried. What would he do now? He'd taken care of her day and night for the last two years. Now she was gone and he was alone in the house. Sure Dary would come for Sunday dinner, but that wasn't the same. Lyla wouldn't come back anymore. He wasn't sure he was really upset about that though. His sister had been mean to him all his life. He was used to it, but now that Grandma was dead, Lyla had no reason to come to the house anymore.

"I l-l-l-love you, G-g-g-g-grandma," he said, kissing her again as his brother and sister stood back and watched.

He stepped back to let the people from hospice take care of his grandmother. He cried as he watched but he made himself stand there and stay with her to the end even after Lyla and then Dary left the room. He'd been her only companion through the end of her life and he wasn't about to abandon her now. It hurt like nothing he'd ever known before, but he had to do it.

"Your grandmother had all of her affairs in order, Aubry," she said gently. "All that's left is for you to go to the funeral home and sign some papers. I'm sure we can get that done quickly. Is there any other family to contact?"

"N-n-n-n-o m-m-m-mam," he said sadly, hating his stutter.

"I'm so sorry, Aubry," she said. "Would you like me to take you to the funeral home?"

"That won't be necessary, Mrs. Norris," Dary said, stepping up beside Aubry and shaking her hand. "I'll drive him there. Thank you for all you've done for our grandmother."

"No thanks necessary, Daryl," she said. She refused to call him Dary like everyone else. "I hope that everything goes smoothly for the three of you."

"Thank you," said Dary while Aubry only nodded sadly. He turned to face his brother. "I'll drive you, Aubry. Just come with me."

They headed toward Dary's truck as Lyla headed for her car. She told them she'd see them later and then said that she had some things to do when Dary asked if she was coming to the funeral home. Aubry paid no attention to her. As far as he was concerned she didn't exist anymore. She'd been nothing but mean to him all of his life, and he was happy to be done with all of that.

The funeral home was a huge white building with pillars in the front. Dary parked his truck in the lot beside the building and they made their way in through the small door in the side of the building. Aubry could see the hearse that had carried his grandmother's body as it pulled in behind the building. He shivered as he looked at it and then followed Dary inside.

The small entry way was carpeted with plush royal blue carpet that matched the pin stripes on the white walls. A set of stairs would take them to the main floor of the funeral home and another set would take them to the basement. A small sign on the wall told him that at the bottom of those stairs was a family waiting room. He followed Dary up to the main level where an older man with very little hair and a round belly met them. He was dressed in a black suit with a startlingly white shirt and black tie. On the lapel of his jacket was a name tag that told him his name was George Stanton and he was the director.

"You must be the James family," said the man in his deep baritone voice. "If you'll just step into my office we can get the paperwork signed, and I have the will. My instructions are to read it to you today."

They followed Mr. Stanton down the wide hallway that matched the entry way. There were open double doors that looked into three of the parlors of the funeral home. Aubry saw that they were also decorated the same as the hall and entry, but there were wooden chairs with white and blue pinstriped cushions in rows in all three rooms as well.

Stanton's office was a large room with burgundy carpet and dark wood paneled walls. His desk was a huge monstrosity with papers stacked in neat piles on the left side. He sat in the large black leather office chair behind the desk and motioned for them to take their pick of the four dark wood ladder back chairs in front of his desk.

"Don't we need Grams's lawyer for the reading of the will?" Dary asked as they sat down.

"No," replied Mr. Stanton. "Her instructions were quite clear." He took a folder from his top drawer and opened it before turning it around and placing it on the desk in front of Aubry. "You are Aubry Michael James, correct?"

"Yes, S-s-s-s-sir," he stammered, beating a fist on his knee in frustration.

"Just sign here," said Mr. Stanton, handing him a pen and pointing to the spaces that required his signature. He took the folder once Aubry had signed and put it back in his drawer. "Very well, the will is basically simple," he said, unfolding a blue packet of papers and sitting it on the desk. "The house and entire estate has been left to Mrs. James's three grandchildren, Daryl Winston James, Aubry Michael James and Lyla Rose James. The funeral itself is paid for as is the coffin, cemetery plot and burial. She didn't wish to have a grave side service, so in two days we'll have a two hour visitation from eight AM to ten AM and then the funeral will take place at one PM. Do either of you have any questions?"

"No," said Dary after looking to Aubry first. "What do we have to do to take possession of the estate?"

"Well I'll need the signatures of all three parties," said Mr. Stanton. "That can be taken care of after the funeral if you like or any time between now and then."

"If we could sign while we're here," Dary said as Aubry nodded. "I can have my sister stop in later today or tomorrow."

"I'm sure that'll be fine," said Mr. Stanton.

They were a somber pair as they left the funeral home. Dary decided that he'd give up his apartment in the city and move back into the house he'd grown up in to be there for Aubry. Aubry was a little on the slow side and with his stutter he didn't do well with strangers. He needed someone to keep him company. Over the next few weeks they got used to each other's habits. Aubry had taken to sleeping all day while Dary was at work and then being up all night on his computer or watching his television. The kid used headphones so he never disturbed Dary. In fact he hadn't heard Aubry in the night even once.

Then Lyla got evicted from her apartment in June and had to move in with them. They couldn't say no as the house was left to all three of them. Just as Dary feared, Lyla started in on Aubry as soon as she moved in. She was obnoxiously loud during the day when Aubry was sleeping, waking him up two or three times before Dary got home from work and shut her down.

"Stupid ass," Lyla was screaming at him when Dary came home from work. "You'll never be nothin', Aubry. You'll never be nothin' but a stupid ass."

"Shut the fuck up, Lyla," Dary snapped, coming into the living room fully. "You're a bitch and it's going to stop. Aubry, you go ahead and do what you were gonna do."

"You're just like Grams," she yelled at Dary. "You always baby him. He needs to grow the hell up and stop that stupid stuttering."

"You know damned well he can't help it," Dary fired back. "And you making fun of him only makes it worse. You know you don't have to live with us, Lyla. You can find another apartment. You just have to get a fucking job."

Aubry listened to them fight as he made supper. Lyla would probably turn her nose up at what he cooked but that wasn't really his problem. He made enough for the three of them and put it on the table. He didn't bother telling them to come eat though. He just got his plate and sat down to eat. Lyla yelled about not being told supper was ready but she at least ate it. She sat across from Aubry, glaring at him while she ate. When he was done he scraped his plate in the trash and then put it in the dish washer. He and Dary had developed a system in the time they'd lived in the house. Aubry cooked because Dary didn't know the first thing about cooking, and Dary did the dishes and all the clean up.

Aubry thought Lyla should do the cleaning since she didn't have a job, but he knew that would never happen. He cleaned the house from top to bottom after supper and then went back to his room to put his headphones on so he couldn't hear her anymore. He longed for the days when Lyla only came every other day and Grams was still alive.

That night he stayed in his room all night, only going to the bathroom three times and getting water and a sandwich from the kitchen once. But the next day while he was sleeping Lyla woke him up and demanded that he make her breakfast. He did it without comment, but she kept up a steady gripe the entire time.

"You shuffle your feet when you walk, stupid," she said. "I can hear you at night and it keeps me up."

"I wear s-s-socks," he said simply, meaning that there was nothing to hear on the hardwood floor at night.

"I hear you opening and closing your damned door all night, too," she said hatefully, yanking the plate of eggs and bacon out of his hand. "Where's my toast?"

"In th-th-th-the t-t-t-toaster," he said as he turned away to get the butter from the fridge.

"Du du du," she mimicked in a whiney voice. "You're so stupid."

Lyla was a pretty girl. He thought that was the problem. She was too pretty and she knew it. Her long dark hair lay in ringlets over her shoulders, and her skin had a natural rosy glow. Her green eyes were tilted slightly, giving her an exotic look and her full lips were naturally dark. Aubry wondered if they even had the same father. He could barely remember his mother so he had no idea.

"Are you fucking listening, moron?" she snapped. "I said you ran the damned dishwasher last night and woke me up. Then I smelled the food you cooked."

"D-d-d-d-dary d-d-d-d-dose the d-d-d-dishwasher," he said as calmly as he could. "And I d-d-d-d-didn't c-c-c-c-cook anything l-l-l-l-last n-n-n-n-night."

"I just fucking said you did, didn't I?" she snapped. "I smelled it. Dary said something about it this morning, so don't fucking lie to me."

"I'll ask D-d-d-d-dary," he said defiantly.

"Oh go to your fucking cave," she said.

He went to his room and tried to go back to sleep. He decided he would ask Dary if he was mad at him, but he knew he didn't cook anything the night before. He sighed as he heard Lyla making all kinds of noise and turned over to stare at the picture of the three of them on his nightstand. Dary was taller than either of them with darker hair than theirs. His eyes were the same James green as his and Lyla's, but where Aubry was short and a little heavy for his size Dary was tall and muscular. He looked at his own image in the picture and felt ashamed. His dark hair was always messy and his green eyes were always wandering. He was standing between them but a little behind them both. That's how he felt most of the time; behind them.

Dary was nice to him and patient when he talked. He loved Dary, but he could tell that Dary was uncomfortable around him. He didn't know why that was, but it made him feel sad. Lyla hated him. He was sure of that as he was that he would never be anything other than "poor stuttering Aubry". He just didn't know why she hated him. Then he heard her screaming his name again. He got up and followed the sound of her screams to the bathroom.

"You didn't close the shower curtain you dick," she screamed at him. "Look at this plaster!"

He looked but shook his head. "I take b-b-b-baths, L-l-l-l-lyla." He was getting angry, and his stuttering always got worse when he was angry.

"You're such a fucking liar," she said and shocked him by slapping his face.

"D-d-d-d-d-d-d-dont hit m-m-m-m-me or I'll c-c-c-call th-th-th-the c-c-c-c-cops!" he screamed at her.

"Why don't you just leave, Aubry?" she said hatefully. "I mean me and Dary would be so much better off without you around. Don't you get it? You're stupid and fuck everything up. Just leave."

He went back to his room and put his headphones on. He was tired and angry. She'd hurt his feelings, but that was nothing new. He thought about what she'd said and cried. This was his home. She didn't have to live there. If she and Dary would be so much better off without him they could leave. He knew he didn't want to put up with her anymore though, and he knew she wouldn't leave.

When Dary came home he didn't ask him any questions. He made supper and ate. Then he went to his room. He wasn't talking to either of them anymore, and Lyla wouldn't have to worry about sounds he made in the night anymore after that night. He'd decided while he was eating that he would do as she'd asked. He'd leave the house. He didn't know where he would go, but he was leaving that very night.

When they went to bed Aubry packed a couple of changes of clothes into his small duffle. He looked around his room and cried. This had been his room since he was seven years old. He was leaving now though. He hated his brother and sister for making him leave. He decided to tell them so in a note. He was always better at writing than talking anyway. He sat at his desk and took out a sheet of paper and wrote them the note. Then he picked up his duffle and left his room. He made as little noise as possible as he left the house. He stood in the yard and looked back at the house and cried a little more.

The next day Lyla waited for Dary to say something to her about what she'd said to Aubry the day before. This was his day off and she knew that Aubry had told on her like a little bitch, but he never said anything. He just read the paper and ate his toast in silence. She thought about waking the little shit up and making him make her eggs but she knew that Dary would have a fit about it.

"There were no dishes in the dishwasher this morning," Dary suddenly said, putting his newspaper down. "Aubry must not have eaten anything last night."

"I don't know what the hell he does at night," she said, looking away.

"Well if you said something to him that made him starve all night I'll have your ass when I talk to him," he said. "I'm tired of the way you treat him, Lyla. This is his house too. It probably should have been his alone. He's the one that took care of Grams. You gave her a bath every other day but he's the one who did all the work."

"Well she left it to all three of us," she snapped.

"Yes, she did," he sighed. "But I'm telling you right now that if you don't treat Aubry with respect you have to go, and if you don't go I'll make your life here hell."

"You always take up for him," she snapped.

"Keep your fucking voice down," he said quickly. "He's sleeping."

"I don't give a fuck if the little freak is sleeping," she hissed. "He should be awake. It's creepy having him up all night while I'm sleeping. He should sleep at night like a normal person."

"I suspect he sleeps all day to stay away from you when I'm not here," Dary said hatefully.

He didn't speak to her again after that. He sat in the living room to watch a baseball game, keeping the volume down so Aubry could sleep. He left the house to have lunch and thought about ways to make Lyla move the whole time. When he got back she wasn't home. He hoped she was out finding another place to live. He and Aubry would be just fine alone. They had been before she'd moved in. He just wished there was a way to make sure she left and left Aubry alone until she did.

She came back with shopping bags a few hours later and he sighed. She went straight to her room to put her new treasures away and he went to Aubry's room to wake him up. He decided he'd just talk to him about the two of them moving and turning off all of the utilities until she moved out. Then they could come back. When he opened Aubry's bedroom door he found the bed neatly made and Aubry gone. He saw the note and grew scared.

 

 

I'm leaving because you two hate me. But I've got something to tell you both. I hate you too. I don't know why Lyla is so mean to me all the time, and I don't know why Dary turned on me either. I just know that any place is better than living with you guys.

Aubry

"When's supper?" Lyla asked as he came back into the living room and without thinking he backhanded her across the face so hard that she fell against the sofa. "Dary! What the fuck?"

"You," he said, throwing the crumpled note at her. "I have to go find him."

He left her there, looking up at him with the welt rising on her face and the crumpled note in her hand. He got in his truck and drove to the hospital. He knew he could have called but he thought that if Aubry was hurt he needed to be there. They had no patients fitting his description or by the name of Aubry James. His heart sank, but then he thought that maybe there was hope.

He went to the police next and found that he wasn't in one of their cells. Then they told him that he had to be missing for forty-eight hours before they could even get involved unless there was clear evidence of a struggle or foul play. Dary didn't want to think about any of that. He just wanted to find his little brother. He was desperate to find him. He'd hoped that he'd been arrested for something and he could simply bail him out, but the fact that another two days had to go by before the police would even help him look for him was devastating.

He checked the park near the house, looking on each bench and in the shelter houses and the restrooms. Aubry wasn't there. Next he went to the homeless shelter and vowed that he'd kill Lyla if he found him huddled on a cot in one of those places, but he wasn't there. He didn't know any of Aubry's friends, but as far as he knew they were all on the net. He went home and logged on to his computer, thanking his lucky stars that all of his passwords were set to auto remember.

His MSN list had about fifty people on it and of that number twelve were online. He sent frantic messages to each of them but none of them even knew that Aubry was missing. He sat at the computer until he'd talked to all fifty of the people on his list. None of them knew anything. He was a mess by then. Lyla was hiding in her room which was probably a good idea because he wanted to choke the life out of her for this. How could she have been so evil? He decided he needed to know exactly what she'd said to him and went to her room.

"When I finally find him and bring him home I want you gone," he said when she'd told him everything. "Do you understand? I want you packed and gone."

"Dary," she said, standing up.

"No," he said, putting a hand up. "I hate you, Lyla. I hate you for this. I want you gone."

His sleep was filled with terrible nightmares about Aubry being killed or tortured. He woke from them covered in sweat and thankful that the sun had come up. He took a quick shower and then had a light breakfast. Lyla still hadn't come out of her room and he was thankful for that. He called his job and told them what was going on and that he wouldn't be in that day. His boss wasn't exactly understanding but Dary had vacation time built up. He'd worked for the company for the last five years and not once had he taken a vacation or called in sick.

He went from door to door around the neighborhood to ask if anyone had seen Aubry. He wrote down in a pocket notebook the addresses where no one was home when he knocked. He stopped for lunch at a take out place and then started on the other side of the block. He talked to people all over a three block radius, showing them Aubry's picture and surprised that many knew his brother and thought highly of him. None had seen him though, and as the sun started to go down Dary was more upset than he'd been when he found the note.

He had a tense supper with Lyla that night, refusing to talk to her even though she'd tried to instigate a conversation four different times. He cleaned up the mess, put the dishes in the dishwasher and went to Aubry's room to talk to his MSN contacts. None had heard from him. He checked Aubry's mail and found nothing in it that would suggest where he might be. He was dead tired by eleven and crawled into bed, saying a desperate prayer that Aubry was safe and would return soon.

The next morning he woke from a dream in which he'd gotten out of bed and found Aubry safe and sound in his own bed. He rushed down the hall in his boxers and entered Aubry's room and was crushed to find the room as it had been when he'd left it the night before. A shower and breakfast of toast and coffee later he was back on the sidewalk, going to the addresses in his pocket notebook. This time he found most of them home and none of them had seen any sign of Aubry. He'd been back at the house about to check in with the MSN list again when the police came to the door.

"Are you Daryl James?" the uniformed officer asked when he opened the door. He sensed Lyla behind him but ignored her.

"Yes," he said. "Come in."

"Thank you," said the officer, whose nametag read Simmons.

"Have you found Aubry?" Dary asked as soon as the door was closed.

"Mr. James perhaps you and your sister might want to sit down," said Officer Simmons, looking at the floor uncomfortably.

"I think I'd rather stand," Dary said. A sinking cold feeling entered his stomach as he looked at the police officer and waited for him to say the words.

"Well there's no easy way to say this," he said. "We found your younger brother. I'm afraid that he's been murdered."

"Where did you find him?" Dary asked, his throat constricting with each word until his voice sounded strangled.

"Four blocks from here," said the officer. "In the service alley."

"What happened to my brother?" asked Dary.

"We're not releasing any of the details pending our investigation," he said. "Did Aubry have any enemies that you know of?"

"You mean besides our sister, Lyla?" Dary asked hatefully, looking at his sister. "No, I've talked with many of the neighbors and those who knew him spoke fondly of him. I don't understand. You said murder."

"Yes, Mr. James," said the officer. "Think hard, please. No enemies?"

"None," he said again.

"And you Miss James?" he asked Lyla. "Why would your brother count you among the enemies of your late brother?"

"We haven't always gotten along," she said sadly, and Dary wanted to choke her there and then. "I don't know any of the people he associated with, though. So I don't know if he had enemies."

"Thank you for your time," he said suddenly. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"This is your fault," Dary hissed, turning to point his finger at his sister. "I want you gone right after the funeral."

But the funeral didn't happen for nearly a month. An autopsy had to be done, and cause of death had to be determined. The investigation began and many people were questioned. Some of them Dary didn't know, but a few he thought were nothing near murderers. He was beside him self by the time the coroner released the body. Then there were arrangements, the obituary and eulogy to write. Of course he didn't ask Lyla for any input on any of that. He was shocked by the number of people who came to the house to express their condolences. Of course many of them had known the family since he and Lyla were children, but some of them he didn't even know.

The funeral was beautiful. Dary had nearly emptied his savings account to pay for flowers. Aubry's own money from their mother's insurance paid for the funeral. What was left, Dary had donated to a charity. Lyla played the perfect grieving sister and it made him sick to his stomach to witness. He let her know that each time he had a chance. Many people spoke at the funeral and said very wonderful things about Aubry. He thanked each of them for coming and then went home with Lyla. He decided he couldn't stand to look at her so he went for a walk.

He was three blocks from the house when he noticed that the Blackburn brothers were talking to another guy about something. As he got closer he heard what they were saying. His bones turned to ice and his blood boiled as he listened. He was shaking with anger but he couldn't do anything about it on the street.

"'N-n-n-no, p-p-p-please d-d-d-don't hurt m-m-m-me,'" laughed Donny Blackburn. They hadn't noticed Dary so far. "He was fucking sobbing all over the place, man and we hadn't even touched him yet."

Donny and Brian Blackburn were twin brothers with hair the color of straw and dull blue eyes. They were covered in tattoos on both arms and legs, and neither of them worked as far as Dary knew. Their mother, Sarah Jean, was an overly obese woman who lived on Social Security with her twin sons. They were what Dary and his friends had always called white trash. He quickly turned around and went back to his house, hoping that none of them had seen him.

He sat in his room with the light off for the rest of the day, plotting what he would do. On one hand he knew he should call the police and tell them what he'd heard, but he knew he wouldn't do that. They had to pay for what they'd done to Aubry, and he would make them tell him exactly what they had done before he killed them. He opened the top drawer of his dresser and moved his underwear over to reveal his 9 millimeter Smith & Wesson handgun, picked it up and checked the clip. He pulled another clip out of his sock drawer and stuffed it in his back pocket. The gun went in his belt and was hidden when he un tucked his dress shirt.

They were all sitting in the living room when Dary reached the Blackburn house. It was a small one story bungalow that had seen better days. The white clapboard siding was chipped and bare in places, and some pieces were missing. There was plastic over one window and the other had no curtain, but newspaper was taped to the inside. There were three lawn chairs in the front yard and a car on blocks. He smirked at it all as he knocked on the door. With no plan, things just sort of happened when the door opened and one of the twins was standing before him with that patent smirk on his face. He just pulled the gun out of his belt and hit him as hard as he could with it in the head, knocking him out and thankfully backward.

"What the fuck?" the other twin asked, standing up from the recliner he'd been seated in.

"Now don't even think about trying to help him," Dary said, holding the gun so the other man could see it.

"What are you doing?" the twin asked.

"I've come to talk to you boys," Dary replied. "If I don't like the answers I get I'll kill you."

There was a coil of clothesline inside a laundry basket next to Sarah Jean. He told the conscious twin to use the knife he knew he was hiding in his belt and cut it into sections, and to first tie his mother to her chair. When she screamed he ordered the man to stuff somethin in her mouth. He apologized for what he was doing, but told her that if she was guilty he'd kill her too.

"All right," he said when Sarah Jean was secured to the chair. "Let's deal with your brother. The table will be fine. Just hoist him up there and tie his arms and legs to the table legs."

"What the hell is this about, James?" the twin asked him as he worked to do what he'd been instructed to do.

"I think you know exactly what this is fucking about, Blackburn," he replied, putting the gun in the man's eye. "Now stop acting like he's too heavy for you and do what I fucking told you to do."

"There, man," said the twin when he'd finally done what he was told. "Now what do you want?"

"I want you to tell me what you and your brother did to Aubry," Dary said coldly. "And don't even try to say you're innocent. I heard you bragging to your buddy."

"Man, this isn't necessary," said the twin. "We didn't mean to kill him."

"Well at least you admit that you killed my brother," Dary said. "Now, do you have any pliers? Maybe a hammer?"

"Yeah," the twin said, jerking his head to the side. "In the pantry."

"Then let's go get them, shall we?" he asked. Then he turned to Sarah Jean and looked into her scared blue eyes. "We'll be just a minute. Don't worry. I haven't forgotten about you."

"What do you want with the pliers and hammer?" the twin asked.

"Don't ask me stupid questions," Dary snapped, rapping him on the side of the head with the gun. "Just do as you're told. You'll live longer that way."

He waited while the twin rummaged in the tool box. Then he thought of screw drivers and other tools and warned the man that any attempt he made would end with a gunshot that would kill him. He was pleased when the man stood back up with a pair of pliers in one hand and a hammer in the other. The hammer had a red handle, which he thought was appropriate. The claw on the hammer was longer than usual. He didn't understand quite why that also made him happy. He thought about it as they went back into the living room/dining room. Once there again the smell was pungent. Sarah Jean had wet herself. He shook his head as he looked at her tear stained face.

"Now what?" the twin asked, commanding his attention again.

"Wake up your worthless brother," he said, pointing the gun at the other twin. "Hurry up. I don't have all night."

When he had his brother awake the man fought his bonds and began to holler like crazy. Dary solved that by putting the barrel of the gun in the man's mouth. That shut him up quickly. He looked into the dull blue eyes of the man on the table and almost fired. At the last second he pulled the gun out of the man's mouth and turned to the other twin.

"What the hell is going on?" the twin on the table demanded.

"You killed my brother," Dary said. "Now I'm here for revenge. I think it's fitting that your brother kill you. Don't you think that's fair? I mean one brother for another and all of that, and eye for an eye."

"I ain't killing my brother," said the other twin.

"Sure you are," Dary said, smiling evilly at him. "If you don't I'll kill you both and your mother."

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"Because you killed my brother," Dary said again. "Did I not make myself clear? You killed my little brother and I want to know why and what else you did to him."

"No man," he said, backing away. "I didn't do anything to your brother. It was Donny, man."

"Fuck you," shouted Donny. "It was you, man. You're the one that made him suck your dick. Your the one who choked him to death. It was you!"

"You did what?" Dary asked, looking at Brian with hate filled eyes.

"Come on, man," Brian said, backing away.

"You made my brother suck your dick?" Dary yelled as he rushed up to stand in front of Brian and pushed the gun into his mouth. Brian moaned something around the gun, but Dary couldn't understand him. A new plan was forming in his mind. He took the gun out of his mouth.

"Donny fucked him," Brian said, saliva running from his mouth. Daryl winced at his words, but his plan was coming clear now.

"Get your ass over there and suck your brother's dick," he said, putting the gun in Brian's face again.

He followed Brian over to the table and watched with a sick feeling as the man did what he was told. Then he grabbed him and pulled him back. It was enough. He couldn't stand to watch that anymore. There was more to do and he had to get to it. He knew it wouldn't be a good idea to spend too much time in their house. They could be interrupted.

"That's enough you filthy pervert," he said. He saw a pair of scissors in a sewing basket and grabbed them. "Cut his pants off. Underwear too."

He waited while Brian did what he was told. He had no idea what he was going to do once the pants were cut off, but he looked around the room at all of the kick-knacks Sarah Jean had collected over the years and once caught his attention. It was a statue of a soldier about six inches in height. It was perfect. He plucked it off the hutch and handed it to Brian.

"What do you want me to do with this?" Brian asked, his eyes wide.

"Fuck him with it," he spat. "He fucked Aubry, so you'll fuck him with that."

He was amazed that Brian did what he was told, but he nearly shut his eyes as he was doing it. Donny started screaming and there was blood all over the table minutes later. He finally pulled Brian back because he couldn't stand to watch anymore. Then he knew it was time to just kill them. He pointed the gun at Brian's head and told him to choke Donny to death just like he did Aubry.

"No, man," Brian yelled. "I won't do it."

"Then I'll stick this fucking gun up his ass and pull the fucking trigger," yelled Dary. "Which do you think will be better, Brian?" He put the gun against his head and pushed. "Move it."

He stood behind him as Brian put his hands around his brother's neck and started to squeeze. He kept the gun against his head as he watched. Donny began to pull violently at the clothes line that was holding him to the table. Dary watched his eyes bulge and then the life left them as his body relaxed and Brian wailed.

"Kill me," he begged, turning to face Dary. "Kill me you motherfucker!"

"Get the hammer," Dary said, ignoring him. The sight of him killing his own brother had nearly unhinged him, but he knew that it had to go on. He had to have all of them dead before he walked out of their house, and it couldn't be by gunshots. Someone would hear and call the police.

"He's dead, fucker," Brian yelled.

"Get the fucking hammer or you'll wish all I did was kill you by the time I'm done," he yelled back.

"Now what?" Brian asked as he picked up the hammer. He was crying like a baby, snot running from his nose and tears streaking his face.

"I hate you," Dary said. "I hate all of you. I want you to beat your mother's fucking brains in with that hammer for giving birth to two worthless fucks like you."

"Fuck you," Brian said.

"Fine," Dary replied, taking the hammer from him. Before he even knew that he was going to do it he'd turned it around and buried the claw in the other man's head. He pulled it free, marveling at the resistance as he pulled and then slammed it into his head again.

Then he was hitting Sarah Jean in the head with the hammer and he was crazed as he did it. Blood flew everywhere, but he didn't plan to get away with it so he didn't care. He just kept hitting her over and over again. He heard someone wailing and thought for a moment that one of the twins was still alive, but then he realized he was the one wailing and stopped hitting the woman in the head.

He went to the kitchen and found a box of matches. On the back porch was a can of gas. He dumped gas over each of the bodies and set them on fire before leaving the house. Again he wasn't trying to hide his killing, it was just another way to get rid of them. He was covered in blood but he didn't care. No one was out so he didn't have to hide it from anyone. He was sure that the neighbors had heard all of the yelling, but he didn't care. He just walked home.

Lyla was sitting on the couch when he walked through the door. She took one look at him and stood up with her mouth open. He leveled the gun at her and fired two shots into her face. Then he put the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.


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