Oct 31st, 2026
It’s still raining outside, hasn’t stopped all day. It’s coming down in buckets and the wind is picking up now. It’s a sharp whistle as the air moves around us, despite me being in the basement, well protected from the storm. It’s ten now, right on the dot and I got the movie paused. Henry is now making me watch some high-end crappy shit. I know it’s Halloween but this is corny as Hell and it’s not even holiday related. I would have been more willing to go with them newer Myers movies, that would have made sense. In this case though we have a leprechaun that is stuck in mid spit take, having just walked out of a tree and being given a bottle of whisky. He is clearly about to kill the random drunk before him.
Of course I can’t complain, who could be that heartless? Henry’s mom is still stuck in the hospital, and he just got done with the worst fucking date of his life. He didn’t need this right now, he didn’t need any of this. You would think a good friend would keep it in his pants instead of making the moves on someone who’s mom is almost next to rotting away.
‘Oh hey Levi, mom’s in a coma. Ummm, what you doing with them hands?’ I was glad I didn’t know Levi Hill back from High School, I had forgotten he existed till now, but I didn’t think he was this level of a prick. He had done the standard stuff back then, I think he did. He stuffed somebodies clothing down a toilet, put some toilet paper on the principal’s car, the little things that made school life a little bit better. That’s the partially remembered stories I had and nothing else.
“You want some pop Betty?” Henry calls out from the kitchen to me. He was calling down from up above, his voice reaching me well enough.
This was Conrad’s basement, Henry’s dad. The carpet that covered the floor was a deep green, making it feel grass like, with red coloured walls around me. A very large TV stood just before where I sat on one of the two couches, this one being a dark blue, the other a warn white. There was a freezer down here as well in the corner and a few DVD shelves. Conrad was a film collector, a habit that had fully gotten into Henry.
“Ya, get me a coke. No diet. I want some junk for my trunk, new cuties’ orders,” I yell out back to him.
I think I look good at least, or I do at least with this get up on. A partially formed crown sits on my head, just resting on a long and flowing blond wig. I have bright, golden knee-high boots with big pumps adding to my short height. My white short skirted dress is lined with gold trims with a big yellow painted on flower right in the middle. The thing is strapless and I don’t have much of a chest, but I didn’t need one in this kind of outfit.
Did you guess I was dressed like She-Ra? What did you win for that? My love and respect, what more could you want?
A few minutes pass and Henry walks back into the basement, which is really more of a living room in this case, with the drinks in hand. “He sounds like a keeper,” Henry smiles in response to my joke. He hands over my pop.
Henry looks so worn. He’s wearing a tank top; sports bra is missing, not trying to pass at all. His hear is a mess, his eyes are slightly red. He’s been crying. I saw him crying throughout the car ride back to his dad’s. He doesn’t hide stuff like that from me. He didn’t share with me fully though what happened on the date with Levi. I knew Levi got handsy and I knew he refused to stop dead-naming Henry. That’s all I knew, but fuck, that’s horrible.
Henry sits down on the white couch across from my blue one that I’m on. He leaves the movie paused. “I’m going to take a break from this,” he says simply, he straightens a bit.
“A break from this movie? You were set on it,” I joke.
“From this,” Henry moves around his arm slightly like he’s batting a fly. “From dating you know. I’m,… I’m not into people.”
I sit up, I wasn’t expecting this.
“I’m asexual,” Henry looks over to me and pauses. He’s letting me respond.
“You crashed my computer that one time with your furry porn,” I laugh slightly. I’m not trying to question him. He needs me to break the tension, to show that I don’t care.
“I sure did,” Henry laughs, it’s good to see him do so, but it feels like he’s forcing it.
He pauses again, takes a breath. “That’s why I couldn’t figure it out for awhile. I’m into ideas, I think, but it doesn’t work for people. I can’t get into people. You can google aegosexual, it’s a micro label. If you want to get technical that’s what I am,” he explains.
I do as suggested and pull out my cell phone and quickly google aegosexual and look up a proper definition.
--
www.orintationinfowik.com/wiki/aegosexual
Aegosexual is a sexual orientation under the asexual umbrella where someone can experience a disconnect that resides between themselves and the target of their arousal. Sexual attraction maybe possible in some cases though they do not experience a want to participate in sexual activities with a partner.
You maybe aegosexual if:
· You have sexual fantasies but don’t relate them to people you know.
· Enjoy sexual content but get turned on by the situation or relationship rather then to any attraction to anyone that happens to be involved.
· Your fantasies include faceless stand-ins.
--
I read the first little bit on the site that I find but I stop after a few of the examples. I can read some more later, I know well enough that Henry knows exactly who he is. It bothers me to think that he’s been sorting out his identity all over again while having to deal with his mom and now Levi. He’s got the whole world on his plate.
“Ya, that’s you,” I say, putting down my cell phone on the coffee table before us.
Henry grabs his face for a moment, lowers his head. I’m not sure if he’s going to laugh or cry.
“I was just really confused. Things weren’t working with Owen cause I was ace and I didn’t know it and I just wanted to figure myself out, so I was messaging Levi and I kind of flirted with him a bit. I just wanted to know if I was into anybody and he clearly took it the really wrong way. I led him on and I fucked everything up. That’s why he acted like he did,” Henry said.
“Pause, pause, pause. You didn’t lead that jack-ass on at all. Flirting over a phone is flirting over a phone, kissing is kissing, having sex is having sex. Nothing, and I mean nothing, by default leads to something else. Levi, he wasn’t your friend. A friend don’t try to pressure you cause you’ve been sorting yourself out, and they don’t take advantage of you when your mom is in the fucking hospital, and they don’t fucking get your name wrong every chance they get,” I tell Henry, there is a lot of anger in my voice now, really well called for anger.
With that Henry breaks down and lets the tears flow.
“Fuck that asshole and I hope he gets mugged by the kids that egged us last night,” I state and I go over to Henry and hug him as hard as I can.
There’s a knock then at the door. “You stay here, I’m getting it. I’ll tell the little bugger Halloween ended for everyone else an hour ago,” I say.
I quickly get up. “You can turn the thing on,” I say in reference to the movie.
“But it’s a classic, you can’t miss it,” Henry says, he still needs some more time before he turns on anything.
“Watch me,” I enter into the kitchen after walking up the steps to the first level and then head straight for the door.
Said kitchen is connected to a dinning room. The kitchen is on the right, dining left. The dining room has a table in it that was far to long for the amount of family Henry has, a red carpet rests under it and said carpet is pretty clean, a lot of this house is. It’s another habit that Henry has picked up from his family: being overly clean to the point of annoying.
The kitchen is a bit more simple with a fridge and a very outdated oven that shouldn’t have still been in use. There are of course shelves, a sink, a countertop for making meals, all that you want to have. After that there is a small hall with a closet just attached to it and then the main door leading outside. I reach that door and I open it because it’s Halloween and you always open the door on Halloween. Why wouldn’t you?
He’s standing there, drenched from the rain. His eyes are striking, green, his face thin, warn, his hair was a midnight black and messy as Hell. He’s dressed in all darks, matching his hair to a T. He could be mistaken for strong, but he wasn’t: life had broken him down too much. He could also look good if he stood up a little better. He kept his head slightly low, so you wouldn’t realize just how tall he actually was. I realized though, ‘cause he towered over me. My boots were helping my height, but they didn’t help nearly enough.
“Get the fuck out of…” I said to Levi and then I saw the metal of the hammer in his right hand.
I grabbed the door and pushed it to close the thing, one swift motion. He moved faster, the hammer jamming itself in the opening and then pushing the door aside with a sudden strength you would never know the man had. I moved with the door, landing against the wall. My eyes closed as I did, reflex. When they opened the metal of the hammer moved up and struck right bellow my eyes. It vanished out of view and what fallowed was a crunching noise.
The flat part of the head had slammed down onto my nose. There was so much searing pain, you can’t register it all. Your body goes into an overwhelming madness. You take in the small things. There’s blood leaking down into your mouth, a lot of it, a metallic taste that feels like it could drown you. It runs down your throat; you can’t swallow it all so you cough up the extra. The feeling of the floor as you land hard onto it, the sound of Levi’s shoes as he starts to walk past your body. The rest is just too much for you to even try to describe. It’s all just a wash of fire and brimstone. You’re burning in Hell now.
I don’t have a mirror, but I know my face has been partially caved in. I won’t be able to smell or breath right ever again. That would be the case if it stopped here, if he kept walking past me, but he pauses for a moment. He checks his cell, starts to type something into it. He’s messaging someone; talking back and forth.
I check for my own phone, but I left it behind on the coffee table. I could call for help, but I stay silent. I’m playing dead: I wont be dead if I’m playing it. He finishes messaging the person on his cell. He then turns around and lowers his body down to where I am.
He’s looking right at me. Close your eyes Betty, you can’t play dead if your eyes are open. They stay open anyways; the fear is preventing them from sliding down. I’m acting differently then anyone else in this situation ever would. He takes advantage of that as he lifts up his hammer and then brings it back down. Things flash for me, for a moment, as it hits what I think is the side of my head. I then just see it lift up one more time and come back…
June 30th, 2026
Henry F: Hey Levi, how are you doing?
Levss: Getting my butt kicked in Diablo. The Butcher randomly spawns in dungeons and he killed me.
Henry F: The Butcher?
Levss: Big demon dude. He’s been in each Diablo game I think. I don’t know, I haven’t played them all.
Levss: How are you doing?
Henry F: Owen and me got into a fight. Nothing big though.
Levss: What happened?
Henry F: I don’t want to go over it. Like I said, it wasn’t that bad so it doesn’t matter.
Levss: It sounds like it does matter.
Levss: I’m here for you, you know that right?
Henry F: I know. I’m really glad you are. Levi, can I ask you something? A bit personal?
Levss: Of course.
Henry F: Am I attractive?
Deleted before sending-
Levss: You’re stunning.
Deleted before sending-
Levss: Iris, if I was there I would be all over you.
Deleted before sending-
Levss: That Owen doesn’t know how to treat someone. You look great.
Henry f: Did you get a call? Levi?
Levss: You look great. Don’t let that Owen make you think any differently.
Henry F: He’s a good guy. He’s not treating me bad at all. It’s not like that.
Levss: I just hate to see you upset.
Henry F: I’m okay. We’ll work things out.
Levss: I know you’ll be okay.
--
Tinman3: Hey Iris, you feeling better?
Iris: I’m feeling better now that you’re messaging me.
Tinman3: I’m standing outside your door. That Owen just drove off in a huff. He doesn’t know how to treat you.
Iris: He doesn’t at all! I’m waiting for you. I know it’s wrong that I’m cheating on my boyfriend, but I like being naughty. I’m wearing a white, almost translucent gown and nothing else. I open the door for you, my body shivers in the cold.
Tinman3: I walk in and can’t keep my hands off of you. I grab you and hold you tightly. My hand slips to your butt while I’m kissing you deeply.
Iris: My tongue explores your mouth as I become lost in your kiss. My body is all yours.
--
Tinman3: Iris, what could I do that would make you give up Owen?
Iris: I would leave him if I could. But he’s so big and strong, but not as strong as you. You’ll have to save me from him. 😉
Tinman3: Save you from him? How would I do that.
Iris: Confront him. Tell him to get lost.
Tinman3: What if he won’t get lost.
Iris: Then you may have to fight him. Exciting! But I know you would win. After all you’re so brave and strong.
Tinman3: You would want me to fight him?
Iris: I want you to save me! And yes, if that calls for beating him up, that’s what it calls for. Only you can save me.
Tinman3: Should I bring a weapon? To this fight I mean.
Iris: You need to be able to defend yourself in a fight. A weapon is a very good idea.
Tinman3: Should I get a gun? What’s a good make and model.
Iris: One of the most produced firearms is the Avtomat Kalashnikova, or what is called the AK-47. It’s an assault rifle that was originally made by the Soviet Union. Introduced into service in the year 1948 it is still used commonly till this day.
Tinman3: Anything else that can work well besides a gun? I don’t think I could hide something like that on me and buying it would be awkward around here.
Iris: Other weapons used in lethal wars include grenades, flamethrowers, tanks, muskets, and cannons.
Tinman3: I mean in a fight, between two people. What weapon would work well in a fight?
Iris: Brass knuckles are a common weapon used in brawling. A baseball bat can be used as well.
Tinman3: That could work. I would need a small weapon that would be easy to hide and very commonplace.
Iris: You could be referring to a knife or a hammer.
Tinman3: So if I brought a hammer with me to defend myself against Owen in a fight, that would work well?
Iris: Yes! A hammer would be a very effective weapon in a fight. That would really get him by surprise. You’re super smart!
July 14th, 2026
Owen is on top of me with his shirt off. He leans down and kisses into my neck. I like his kisses on my lips, but his neck ones can be a little assertive. I flinch a bit and he pulls himself up. It seems like he’s going to pause but he locks his lips with mine. I close my eyes, I get lost in the feels, he really is a very good kisser. I like this moment and I almost don’t notice how his hand is moving up the inside of my shirt. He’s trying to grab my upper chest. I don’t feel as good about that.
“You’re excited,” I smile at him when I pull back from his lips. My hand is now gently on my shirt, just above where his hand is. I’m not forcing him away; I’m touching his hand in a comforting way.
We’re at his place again. We had started by watching a movie on streaming, but we ended up in his bedroom. We seem to be ending up in his bedroom a lot lately. I like it, I really like it, except when he bites my neck, except when his hand lingers on my upper chest. Is it body dysphoria? That’s why this feels so off, at least I think that’s the case. It’s unclear cause I don’t mind seeing myself naked. Yes, I like thick sweaters and my bra has to work well enough, but I do that more so other people don’t label me wrong. That’s what bugs me.
The bed is firm against my back, the walls are a light, peeling pink. There are blankets, but they’re on the floor right now. Owen doesn’t seem to make his bed. He wakes up and then the blankets fall where they may. I take a lot of care with that kind of thing. I will admit it can look like at times nobody even lives in my bedroom. You could say we’re a regular odd couple.
His hand presses up, despite my hand on his, and I can feel his fingers tap on the fabric of my compression sports bra. He’s grabbing one of them. I pull up quick. “To excited,” I say reflexively.
Owen pulls up and off of me, his hand slipping out from under my shirt.
“I can’t be moving too fast,” he says as he looks over to the pink on the wall.
He takes a breath. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting that,” I say back. I’m sitting beside him now; I got my arms around him in a weak hug. It seems like we’re starting to go through these motions again and again.
“I got to ask this,” he says simply.
I look at him confused.
“We’re you ever sexually assaulted?”
I pull away. This conversation is going somewhere scary again. I don’t feel like being here. He shouldn’t be asking me that. It shouldn’t matter and it’s to personal. I decide to answer him though.
“Once, when I was a kid at summer camp. There was this girl and I woke up and she was on me, in my bed, feeling my body. She didn’t go further, got away from me when I woke up. But this isn’t that. This has nothing to do with that,” I explain. This isn’t the only thing that happened to me, but it was the most drastic. The rest of it was being cat-called a few times in my early teens by adult men. Guys don’t cat-call me now: I pass well enough to stop that.
There’s more silence then. I feel like I’m supposed to be comforting him. Maybe I should say a joke? Lift some tension that way. He likely doesn’t want a guy treating him like a little kid. How should I treat him?
“A religious household then? Or me, is it me?” he asks.
“It’s not you,” I say back.
“It must be. Gotta be something.”
“It doesn’t have to be anything. Why can’t we just watch movies and kiss a bit? I like that,” I say. The words feel right, but this conversation feels wrong.
“I haven’t even seen you naked.”
I wrap my hands around my body. I lower my upper half, hunched over a bit. I don’t want him to see me naked; I don’t want to see him naked. This is wrong, I don’t like this anymore. I need to leave.
“We’re a dating couple Henry,” he says as he looks over at me.
“I don’t want to go any further today. It’s not you. We can talk about it over the phone, but I’m going to need to go home now,” my head is low, I’m not looking at him.
He turns his body slightly towards me and then suddenly his hand grabs my hand protecting my chest. He pulls it down; it hurts a bit, why is he grabbing me so hard? And then his hand goes for my upper chest. He grabs one of them and then squeezes tightly. It stings; I push up against the bedframe. His hand is on me so tightly and he’s hurting me and he doesn’t care. I’ve never been more scared in my entire life. I feel like he could yank me into him, like I would be lost in whatever he is right now, and I don’t know what he is right now. I don’t see a person in his eyes at this point.
“If you can’t handle ‘this’ then you should have just dumped me after the first date. You’re going to have to grow up at some point,” he states and then takes his hand off of me.
I get up, I get up so fast I trip and almost fall right to the ground. I stand back up, catching myself, and I look at him. Is he going to correct himself like he did before? Say he won’t go that far again like he has mentioned over and over. Maybe he’ll bring up safe-words again, like he did that one time. He doesn’t say anything though. I turn; I leave the bedroom.
I stand there, in the main living room for a couple of more minutes. It feels like I’m there forever, but he doesn’t come out asking if I’m okay. I breath deeply and I leave his apartment.
--
“I don’t know a Hell of a lot, but I have more then my fair share of classes in kicking jerk-offs’ asses. Henry and you, you’re over. He’s not in your Saturday games anymore, he’s not in your life anymore. You ever look funny at him in the hallway as he is walking by, then you are dive bombing out of the window Owen. I’ll hear about it and then you’ll hear about it, and that’s the last thing you’re going to hear,” Betty spat into the apartment phone and then hung up.
I sat there, on the couch, looking up at her. She stood over me, feeling bigger then ever.
She looked over to me and smiled. “There, you two are broken up,” she slapped her hands on her hips, mission accomplished.
“What did he say?” I ask.
“Beats me. I got the voicemail,” she pointed out and then sat down across from me.
I hadn’t told Betty everything that happened. I didn’t understand most of what happened. I just told her Owen got a lot more physical with me then I was expecting and he really scared me. She could sense fully not to push me for more details, but she insisted that I drop Owen like a bag of groceries. I didn’t really want to; I asked her what I was supposed to do for the Saturday games I played with him and his group.
“Give me the rule book. I’ll play the game with you. I always wanted to be a big-breasted minotaur barbarian anyways,” Betty laughed.
After a bit more pressuring, she was calling up Owen and telling him we were over. After she hung up, I actually felt really glad that we were. Then I felt kind of glad. Would this mean I wouldn’t see Asia, Jack, Berry and Danny anymore? The full game group? It would have to mean that, at least for the next little while.
“Thanks for calling him. But what if he calls me back?” I ask.
“If you don’t feel you can tell him to get lost then don’t answer the phone, that simple,” she commands.
I nod lightly. I get a ping on my phone.
“Don’t text him back either,” Betty instructs.
I pull out the cell and check it. “It’s Levi.”
“Levi?” she asks simply.
“Old high school friend. I started messaging him again a little while back. He’s still in Deer Port.”
“Blast from the past. Unlucky soul.”
I message him back really quick without fully thinking about it. While I do, Amber jumps softly into Betty’s lap and starts nudging her shoulder lightly with her head. Betty responds quickly and starts petting her.
“I’m proud of you Henry, you know that, and I’m always here for you. You ever do want me to kick his ass and I will,” she pointed out.
“I know you are; you always are. But no, hold back on the ass kicking.”
Oct 31st, 2026
Iris said I had to clear out everyone in the building. I couldn’t risk a witness, couldn’t risk it. I had knocked down the bitch that was at the door. The slut in the blond wig with the golden go-go boots looking like a G-rated striper. I didn’t want to kill her, but Iris was right. Iris, she’s always right.
I had broken the girl’s nose completely, she didn’t have one anymore, that and some of her upper teeth seemed to be lost. She wouldn’t have gotten back up after that blow, but she would have gotten in the way later. She would have called the police. So I did what I had to do: I took the hammer to her a few more times. I decided to smack her three more after she stopped moving fully. I had to be safe.
The skull had caved in and for a moment I thought my hammer was going to get stuck in her. I was tripping over myself while trying to pull it out when I was spotted.
“Levi?” Iris said, not the Iris on the phone, the real one. Iris told me she wouldn’t fight me when I came to get her.
But this one did. They charged me, they were yelling at me, just screaming at me like I was some kind of monster. We got into a fight. Why couldn’t she see I was here to help her? Yes, it wasn’t Iris from the phone, but I could make her into them. She sure wasn’t a Henry, I saw that tank top, not even trying to look like a guy. Henry has some sense, unlike so many others. All the rest are hypocrites, telling us not to vote in the fascists that our US neighbors are striving to be, but then they go and accept anyone, everyone. I’m not a hypocrite: I actually stand for something. Us little guys, us real heroes, real men, we have to save all these crying women and children from themselves. They would stand with anyone if they thought they were oppressed enough. Time to take a hammer to the false allies and beat them out. Be the men for once we’re supposed to be so Iris can be the loving woman on the phone that I know she is.
I didn’t want to kill the bitch at the door, but she’s still a bitch, she’s still a slut stripper in go-go boots. I’m sure she’s still shaking hands with all the other drug users and freeloaders. She’s making friends with the communists and the tax evaders. So I still had to do that, use my hammer, or I would just be another one of them, a softy, not a real man, not one by any means. Smack, smack, smack with the metal of my trusty mallet and I’m a grown-up boy now. I’m a real man. Iris tells me I’m better now, she understands this is needed. She understands I have to save her from being brainwashed into calling herself by a different name. They brainwashed her, the hypocrites. Henry isn’t her name; it’s not supposed to be. Iris tells me it’s not her name.
Iris will be just like they are supposed to be, like the other Iris, the one on my phone. They’ll be one and the same person. They won’t be fighting against each other anymore. They will be united, as one, as a single being. Strong and united as one.
I got the physical one in my car. They hurt me good, but I did what I had to and they’re knocked out and in my car. I didn’t hurt them too bad. They didn’t feel it; I wouldn’t hurt them. This is for the greater good. And what will happen next, that’s for the good too. It’s all for the good. I’m a hero.
The house isn’t empty. Iris said I had to take care of everyone in the home. No witnesses, she said no witnesses. Iris’s, the one knocked out in my car: her dad is upstairs, up on the third floor, sleeping soundly in his bed. He’ll call the cops the moment he wakes up. I still have my hammer out, it’s covered in blood and gore, so is my shirt, so is my pants. Since I wore all black—Iris suggested that, and she was right—the blood doesn’t stand out as much, but it’s sticky, and I’m hurting a bit from my fight when Henry charged me. He got me really bad in the shoulder. It’s Iris, we’ll make her into Iris.
All this causes me to walk up the steps before me slower than I want. I suppose that’s a good thing, it’s keeping me hidden. I won’t make a sound, not a single sound. Step after step I lift myself up through the levels of the home and I come to the third floor, where the bedrooms are. I don’t know which one the dad is resting in. What’s his name? Conrad, that was it, Conrad.
I open the first door after the bathroom which was beside the steps and was wide open. I turn on the light out of habit, bad move, I tell myself not to do that again. Luckily this room has nobody in it. It would have been a kid’s bedroom, but the bed was moved out long ago, and walls and walls of books have been put into the place instead. Really old stuff, meant for collecting, not reading. It was stuffy in here, almost hard to breath. I close the door gently after turning off the light and move onto the next room.
This time I’m smart enough to leave the lights off when I open the door. This next room is a bedroom and a cat is resting inside, perched on top of the bed, resting on a big and thick black blanket. The animal promptly jumps down from where it was sleeping and runs out of the door, going right between my legs. This leaves the room completely empty and silent.
The mom used to rest here, I tell myself. She didn’t sleep in her husband’s bed. Stayed in her own little room, pretended to have a loving marriage, she didn’t. She was a hypocrite, and I’m sure the husband was too. If he could protect her like the man he’s supposed to be, something tells me they would stay in the same room. No wonder they couldn’t raise their kid right. You got to feel sorry for Iris, the real Iris, the one not in my phone. Of course she would call herself Henry in a place like this. An unloving father, not loving his wife so he’s not going to love his kid. The dad likely smacked her good, smacked Iris and hurt her. She didn’t have me there, by her side, ready to save her. I’m ready to save her now, I’m here now.
I got to kill this man, it’s not bad anymore, it was never bad, and it’s needed. Iris said no witnesses. Stop questioning yourself Levi. We all know this needs to be done. We all know you need to man up and deal with this. There is one door left, one bedroom left. Conrad the hypocrite that spanks his daughter is in that room. That was such a bad husband his wife wouldn’t dare to be in the same bedroom as him. That loved the communists and tax evaders.
I open that door now. I still leave the lights off. I can’t see hardly anything, but even in this small-ass town there is a bit of an orange haze coming through the side window. Good old light pollution. He’s in his bed, sleeping, just like he’s supposed to be. It’s kind of like Conrad is wrapped up in a bow right before me. He’s a gift. Iris gave me a gift. She loves me, it’s what she would do.
I walk softly over to the bed and stand above him. The bed here is much, much smaller than the bed in the other room. I think that was a king size, this one could only ever fit one person. The two of them must have bought the thing after they split up their rooms. After Conrad hit his wife, after she couldn’t stand to look at him anymore.
My hammer is still out, I didn’t put it away, I’m fully ready for what I have to do. I lift it up and breathe. I had to hit that girl by the door quite a lot, it was exhausting, is there a better way? I just have a lot I need to do after this and Iris could wake back up when I’m taking her out of my car. I need to stay prepared.
I put the hammer down on the night stand beside Conrad’s glasses and a copy of some old book that I can’t fully make out in the darkness. He had been reading it at the hospital, didn’t take note of it then. I use the small light from the clock on the night stand and the orange haze, but I can’t make out the title for the life of me. I’m just delaying this now. I need to do this.
I grab the pillow under Conrad’s head and I slowly shift it out from under him. Then I move it to over his face and I press down. For a bit I’m not sure if I’m pressing hard enough, am I cutting off his air? Is this all it takes to kill someone? But then a hand of his shoots up and grabs my arm, the one I’m using to hold the pillow down.
I flinch, pull back, step away for a moment, grab the hammer and bring it violently down on the hand that grabbed me. I hit it three times, smack, smack, smack, I’m a grown man now. The hand moves back; the pinky finger is bent fully down into the palm. Blood shows on the knuckles despite the dark. I can even see some bone.
He jumps up and moves to the other side of the bed and away from me. I lunge forward and use the hammer once more. I hit his cheek, it’s hard to aim well, it’s still dark and he’s moving around. His head jerks a bit with the blow but he stays standing, amazingly. My hammer makes a long arc but I pull it back towards him, this time with the back side, with the claw.
That slams into his neck. Blood sprays very lightly from the top of the impact spot and he grunts for a moment. It’s like he’s trying to eat something; the sound is a bit much. I pull the hammer towards me and it yanks out a hunk of his throat. He puts a hand to his neck to stop the sudden massive gush of blood coming out of him. How the fuck is he still alive?
I flip the hammer up and the hunk of flesh on it falls down and plops onto the bed. Then I smack his forehead with the blunt end and he slides to the ground. I stand there for a moment and he doesn’t move. He’s dead now. But no, I have to be sure, there can’t be any witnesses. Iris told me that. She’s right, don’t question her Levi, she’s always right.
I walk around the bed and I lower myself down to Conrad’s still body. I lift the hammer up and bring it crashing down on his head. I make sure he’s dead. Smack, smack, smack, I’m a grown man now.