Sonny pulled her long hair back into a bun as she made her way past the tombstones that lined the cobble walkway. With the day’s light long since replaced by the blackness of night, she could scarcely see where she was going, though it did not matter. She knew the way, just as sure as she knew that Sammy would be waiting for her.
Ten long years she had been away from the small town of Bedford. Not much had changed. Harold Bennett still owned the town’s only liquor store that would sell to anyone old enough to hand him the cash. Ken Doyle was still sheriff and Roger Hartmann still took care of all his dirty work. Even Five-Dollar Mary, the local good-time girl, still walked the back alleys, irritating the few residents of Bedford who still took notice of her.
“Wish I could say it’s nice to be back,” Sonny whispered as she sat down on the freshly-mowed grass. As she set her eyes on the weathered tombstone before her, her steely expression fell and her eyes watered up.
“I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long. I know I should’ve visited, but… damn it Sammy… I just couldn’t…” She reached out a trembling hand and slid her fingers along the Old English style engravings.
Samuel Flynn Foster
Born Unto This World
March 16, 1982
Taken Unto Heaven
August 23, 2000
Sonny could still remember every moment of that night; the sound of the waves crashing on the beach, the scent of night blooming orchids, the feel of the chill breeze as it blew swiftly through the trees. Over head, the moon shone down bright and full, illuminating the narrow dirt path that lead from Center Avenue all the way down to Cryr’s Point Beach, where the biggest party of the summer was raging on through the night…
- - - -
“Sure you wanna do this?” Sonny asked, looking down at the entrance application in front of her.
“Why not?” Sammy said, not looking away from the suit rack he had been poring through for the better part of an hour.
"Do you have any idea what the idiots in this town will say?”
"Why should I care?”
- - - -
“Shit, Sammy.” Sonny’s voice was small and broken as she pulled herself out of the past. She stood slowly, almost painfully, and looked to the pitch black sky. “It may have taken me a long time to find my way back, but now that I’m here, I promise to make this right.”
- - - -
Sammy stood in front the mirror, fussing with the red silk tie that stubbornly refused to work with him. For the first time she could remember, Sonny heard him curse out loud, damning the tie and all its fore bearers to the fiery pits of Tartarus. She could only laugh as he tried in vain to loop and twist and finally beg the thin piece of fabric into a proper knot.
“I give,” he whined, throwing his hands up in defeat.
“Calm down,” Sonny cooed, pushing herself off the bed. “The world isn’t ending.” She came up behind him and reached around his shoulders and with a few quick finger flips, it was tied.
He spun around to face her and smiled. “Thanks. I can never get these things to work right.”
“One of the many reasons God made girls.”
“Only one I can think of.”
"Nice. I’ll remember that next time you need to blow more of Daddy’s money.” Sonny giggled as she smoothed Sammy’s Versace jacket. “I don’t know why you even wanted to do this.”
He just looked at her and grinned.
- - - -
Sonny pulled into the parking lot of the Bedford Motel and Truck Stop and booked the room farthest from the street. She did not wished to be seen yet;. [Eric Andr1] she still had hours to prepare before she come face to face with her old friends following the annual A Summer’s Goodbye Festival.
The last one she had attended had also been her first and only at Sammy’s urging. All he talked about the entire summer was entering the pointless contest and winning the crown. Should’ve known this red-necked town wouldn’t let it go that easy.
- - - -
Sonny held tight to Sammy’s arm, unsure of herself in high heels over uneven ground. She could not believe she was wearing a tank top, much less an all-too-revealing mini-skirt. She stared down at her feet, praying with every step she took she would not fall over and make a complete fool of herself.
“Why did I have to wear this?” She mock-whined. “I want my pants back.”
“Stop bitching,” Sammy huffed. “All I ask is that you look like a girl once before I die.”
“Why? You don’t even like girls.”
- - - -
He had promised to explain it one day but, to Sonny’s deep regret, he never had the chance.
She threw a suitcase onto the bed and shoved a duffle bag into the closet.
In the suitcase under her clothes was a Browning 9 mm Hi-Power pistol. A smile graced her lips when she laid eyes on it and blood drenched fantasies danced about in her twisted imagination. The feel of the cold steel against her warm flesh sent a tingling through her body.
Oh the fun we’ll see, she hummed in her own head, when I take you out to play. She looked down, licking her lips at the sight of her various other toys. I wonder if you four will enjoy these as much as I will. She pulled from her pocket a small piece of stationary. Gayle Haggard, Mitch Kerron, Abby Doyle and Henry Burgess… I can’t wait to see you again. I hope you haven’t forgotten me.
- - - -
Sonny could only watch in horror as her best friend was cruelly demeaned and violated; she wanted to close her eyes or look away but couldn’t bring herself to ignore what happened only a few feet away from her.
“Fucking fag!” Gayle screamed as she slammed her naked pelvis against Sammy’s face. “Don’t tell me the pussy’s afraid of pussy!” She slid her wet slit across his lips as Henry pulled off the boy’s dress slacks.
"Think he’s done it?” Henry asked, ripping off his briefs. “Hey fag! Taken it in the ass yet?” He forced Sammy’s legs apart and shoved a finger inside. Sammy squirmed and cried out. He tried to fight, to kick Henry away, but Abby was there now, helping keep his legs still while Gayle continued to press her moistness against his face.
"Whaddya know. A fuckin’ virgin!” Henry exclaimed.
“Ya know what’d be hot, baby?” Abby cooed.
“I wanna watch you fuck ‘im.”
“That turn you on, ya ill’ whore?”
“Oh yeah,” she squealed as she slid a hand between her legs. “Oh, yeah. I’m wet just thinking’ ‘bout it. Do it, babe.”
“Shit baby, anything for you.” Henry leaned over and kissed Abby as he pulled his pants down before dragging Sammy’s body towards himself. He pulled the boy’s legs up against his chest as he pressed his straining cock against Sammy’s hole. “Ready for this fag?”
Sammy dug his fingers into the cold earth as Henry forced his way inside, ripping him open with each hard slam.
"Shit baby! Faggot really likes it!” Abby screamed, pointing at Sammy’s involuntary erection.
"Oh yeah! I’m the mother fuckin’ man, bitch!”
- - - -
Sonny woke screaming early the next morning. No matter how hard she tried, she could not rid herself of the horrors she had seen that night. Even now, a decade later, she was still haunted every night by the heinous acts of a group of drunken fools. It’ll be over soon. Just a few more hours and we’re both free.
Once she pulled herself together she decided to take a drive downtown, where the final preparations for the festival were being wrapped up. Light poles were decorated with garland and lights, venders were lining up their goods, side streets were almost completely blocked off. People were already wandering the site, spending their hard earned money on tacky crafts and disgusting food.
I can’t believe you actually convinced me to come here, Sonny mused, now seeing the people of Bedford for what they truly were: useless bigots. It’s their fault! They allowed their children to grow up to be fucking cowards and bullie; they’re just as fucking guilty. I place blame on each and every one of them. If I had it my way, I’d hurt them all, one by one…
Collecting herself, she made her way over to Harold’s Spirit Shoppe, were the old man was still sneaking alcohol to the high school kids through the back door. He looked up at her as she strode in. The look on his face told her he knew he knew her from somewhere.
“Afternoon, Harold,” she called out as the locked the door behind her.
“Can I help you?” Harold looked up at her confused. “I’m sorry, miss, but do I know you?”
“Yes, you can… and yes, you do. Or at least, you did,” she said quietly. “Been a while though. Not surprised you don’t recognize me. I’ve changed. You haven’t though. Still sellin’ to minors, I see.”
“Ain’t nothin’ goin’ on here. Now, what’d you say your name was?”
“Oh,” she cooed, sliding her leather-gloved fingers across the bottles that lined the tight walk-space. “My name doesn’t matter.” As she inched closer, she could see the fear building and could almost feel the cold sweat that she knew dripped down the back of his neck.
“Then, uh… what name does matter?” His eyes shot to the phone not more than a foot away. “It’d help if you gave me a hint.”
“I suppose you're right. And go ahead. Grab that phone. Won’t help though.” She pulled from her pocket a small butterfly knife. “I already thought of that.”[Eric Andr3]
Harold jumped from his seat and ran towards the back door. He grabbed the handle but could not open it. He slammed his shoulder against it and dropped to the cement floor in a howl of pain.
She laughed cruelly. “Yeah. I thought of that, too. Listen, Harold. About ten years ago, a bad thing happened to a good boy. Remember?” Sonny’s voice was laced with venom as she inched towards him, her knife held tight in her hand. She stared at him, dared him to play dumb. “Answer me.”
“Ye… Yes… I remember.”
"Earlier that day, you sold some rather hard alcohol to a group of kids. Remember that?”
He gave a small, quick nod.
“Understand the connection?” She dropped to her knees before him and grabbed his chin in an iron grip. “Now that you understand why I am going to brutally murder you, what’s say we get started?” She jammed the blade into his throat, severing his vocal cords. “Sorry, but as much as I would enjoy the sounds of your death throes, I really don’t want the neighbors to come-a knockin’.”
Sonny stood, walked back into the store front and grabbed the largest bottle of pure grain alcohol she could find then filled the CLOSED sign and returned to the back room, where Harold still sat slumped against the back door as sloppy wet noises crept out of the hole bloody in his throat.
“I’m sorry, did you say something? I can’t understand you. Doesn’t matter.” She opened the bottle and poured it over the old, shivering man, until not a drop remained. Stepping back, she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket.
“You know, I never use to smoke. Honestly, I don’t even like it. But I wanted to make sure I had a match handy when I finally got around to torching you.” She placed the menthol in her mouth and slid the match roughly against his white-haired head.
The cigarette lit, she smiled down at him.
She dropped the match and stepped away as the small flame grew to envelope his lap before climbing down his legs and up his chest. The sight of him attempting to scream amused her as the fire spread, burning the cloth and flesh with equal ease. The scent of charred skin filled the room as the flames covered the old man from head to toe. She waited until he no longer twitched then she turned and walked back out the front door, careful to lock the store up so no one wondered in to see her handiwork too soon.
“I’m feeling better already.”
- - - -
Sonny could hear Sammy begging for them to stop even as a drunken Mitch Burgess, his body only inches above her own, screamed obscenities into her tear-stained face.
"Crazy ill’ cunt, I’ll show you what a big man I am!”
Sonny’s back arched as he forced his hard member deep inside her body, tearing her apart from the inside. As he slammed against her, his hand pressed tightly against her face, she tried to flee, to escape inside her own head, but Sammy’s cries dragged her back to reality as Mitch shoved his tongue inside her dry mouth.
She could feel the blood and semen collecting on the ground between her thighs as he thrust again and again, forcing her body to cum. When he was finished, he pulled away only long enough turn her over before he buried himself in her ass, drawing from her a scream that scared even her.
"The lil’ cunt likes that, don’t she.” He grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her head back. “I said, the lil’ cunt like that!”
She tried to speak, but her voice was lost under the sounds of pained moans. All she could do was scream as he tore from her virtue away.
When he was finally through with her, she watched helplessly as he pulled Henry away from Sammy and dropped to his knees. She tried to reach out but could barely find the strength to breath.
She could only watch as Mitch’s fist disappeared inside Sammy’s body. She could only listen as he screamed out in pain and begged them to stop.
“A’ight, fag-boy.” Mitch spat, grabbing Sammy by the throat and lifting him off the ground. “We’ll end it.” He slammed Sammy against an old oak tree while Abby and Gayle bound him by his thighs and arms with vines.
Henry reached for his pants and pulled out a small knife.
“We lied,” he said, laughing, as he slid the razor-sharp blade down Sammy’s arm. “But don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll pass out from the pain long before you’re dead.”
For hours they tortured him, peeling away bits of flesh and muscle until his body gave out and the only evidence of life was the shallow breathing he forced in and out.
“Bored!” Mitch yelped as he grabbed the knife from Henry and plunged it into Sammy’s groin. “G’ night bitch.”
With one swift motion, Mitch dragged the blade straight up to Sammy’s throat and laughed as his insides crept out.
- - - -
Sonny stood silently in front of the old oak tree where she had witnessed her best friend’s sadistic rape and murder. Since that night, she had found herself living in a parallel dimension and had been, for the last ten years, separated from the rest of humanity. She made no friends, took no lovers, and barely even left her apartment.
Tonight, she knew, that would all change. One way or the other, she was leaving the memories behind.
- - - -
The morning after the A Summer’s End Festival, Sonny returned to the dirt path, praying with each step that the night before had not happened. That the blood and torn clothes could be explained some other way. That what she had heard and seen and felt was all nothing more than a nightmare.
- - - -
It was just after eleven when the first car pulled up. Sonny watched from a distance as Gayle and Mitch stepped out into the sticky August night and was amused at the confusion and concern that swam across their faces. Shortly thereafter, two other vehicles approached. Time to play.
Sonny crept through the woods, watching as the four of them made their way hesitantly towards the old oak. She enjoyed the looks of fear and confusion on their faces as the fear and anxiety built up inside of them.
- - - -
When she came upon the old oak tree, she knew she would never have that delusion again. Stripped naked, beaten and bruised and sliced from groin to throat was the one person whom she had ever considered friend. The one who had brought her out of her dark place and proven to her time and again that not everyone she saw was out to hurt her. She could scarce look at his mangled body; the gashes in his chest and thighs, the bones protruding through the bruised skin of his arm, the pile of intestines dumped at his feet…
- - - -
“What the hell is going on?” Mitch asked, leaning against the old oak tree.
“No clue,” Henry said. “Got a note that said to be here at eleven.”
“Me too.” While Mitch and Henry sounded annoyed at being called out, the fear was palpable in Abby’s voice. “And I don’t like it one bit.”
“Calm down, Abbs,” Gayle said, resting a hand on Abby’s shoulder. “Probably just some stupid prank. Let’s get outta he-” Gayle staggered back, her hand now pressed against the back of her neck. “What th…” She fells to the ground.
“Shit!” Mitch yelled, running to her. “Gayle! Gayle!” He grabbed her up and held her close. “What the fuck is this?”
Abby grabbed Mitch‘s arm and tried pulling him to his feet. “Let’s jus-”
"Abby!” Henry reached out, catching her as she fell.
Mitch, with Gayle unconscious in his arms, struggled to his feet. “Who’s out there?”
“Who cares!” Henry said, his voice shaking. “Let’s just go.”
“Yea, let’s g-” Mitch turned around to see Henry slumped over Abby and a woman standing over their sleeping forms. “Shit.”
“Evening, Mitch,” Sonny said smiling.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“We’ll get to that.” She leapt forward and tackled him to the ground. “But first,” she jammed a needle into his neck,. “Rest.”
- - - -
“I promise they won’t get away with this, Sammy. If it’s the last thing I do, I‘ll make them pay.”
- - - -
“Wake up everyone.” Sonny looked down at the four of them, naked and bound, and laughed. “So, how do you all like it, huh?”
“What the fuck!” Mitch growled, struggled against the barbed leather straps that bound him to the tree, pulling from him a scream.
“Careful, those things will cut you good.”
“Fuck! Who are you?”
“Oh, now that hurts, you being my first and only and all.”
“Wha…” Gayle was still groggy, though she woke up quick when she realized she too was bound spread eagle right next to her Mitch. “Why are you doing this?”
“Don’t play stupid. I know you recognize this place.”
“Sonny?” Henry offered from his spot on the tree.
Abby, bound next to him, visibly shivered. “I don’t believe it.”
“Try to.” Sonny paced around the tree, meeting each of their petrified gazes. “When the proper authorities did nothing to punish you four sick fucks, I decided that I would have to do it myself. Old man Harold is taken care of. Wow, that wrinkled old fuck went right up. Deputy Hartmann should be good and scattered across Doyle’s office right about now.” She stopped in front of Abby and dropped to one knee. “Along with your daddy.”
“Yes…” Sonny whimpered, mimicked Abby’s pained tone. “And you four are next. Any volunteers for first?”
“You crazy bitch!” Gayle screamed, struggling harder against the straps. “When I get outta here-” She screamed as blood ran down her arms and thighs.
“Okay. I’ll do you first.” Sonny reached for a blue duffle bag and pulled out fisherman’s wire and a sewing needle. “Now, this is gonna hurt, but it’s your own fault. If you could keep your stank shit to yourself,” she said as she leaned forward and forced the needle through her nether lips, “I wouldn’t have to close it up.”
Gayle’s screams tore through the quiet night as the needle pierced her again and again. Every time Sonny tightened the stitch, a new, agonized scream ripped from Gayle’s quivering lips and with each squirm the barbed leather dug into her flesh, tearing it from her bones.
Finished, Sonny sat up and wiped the blood from her hands.
“Jesus, fuck me!” Henry exclaimed.
“Sorry, he’s not here. But I’ll do it.” She reached again into her bag and pulled out a small metal bulb, covered in small spikes and attached at one end to a screw. A devious grin on her lips; she couldn’t contain the twisted pleasure she derived from this toy. “All I have is this, sweetie. It's called a Pear of Anguish; it's also one of my favorites. Why don’t I demonstrate why.” She pressed the device against his anus.“ Now remember, don’t clench.”
She rammed it inside of him and could feel as it tore apart his insides. When it disappeared completely, she began turning the screw. “Right now, it's it's opening up inside of you.” She twisted it. He screamed. “One inch.” Another turn, another scream. “Three inches. Oh, baby, you’re loose now. Let's see how much looser we can make you.” His screams were like a sweet symphony, pulling from her her first truly happy moment in years. “Uh-oh, six is the final inch. And look,” she dropped her eyes to the ground between his legs. “You made it all bloody.” With a laugh, she tore that thing out of him, bringing with it, his sphincter.
Tears rushed down his cheeks as he tried to close his legs but the barbed leather that held him still tore the skin of his thighs shreds.
"No, please, no…”
“Stop begging. It’s unbecoming a whore of you’re… what am I sayin’? Beg all you want. It makes it more enjoyable. For me at least.” She pulled out of her bag a large metal tong with two sets of claws and pressed it against the crying woman’s mascara-stained cheek. “This one’s a breast ripper. Any guess what it’s used for?”
“Please, no…“ Abby struggled against the binds as Sonny punctured her left breast and pulled. Blood rushed from Abby’s skin as it was stretched and pulled away from her chest. With a hard thrust, Sonny ripped bits and pieces of Abby’s breast off, leaving bloody and torn skin hanging. Abby’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“Speechless?” Sonny cooed. “Funny, I didn’t think anyone could shut you up.” She laughed. “Oh look, you had a full set.” She clamped the device onto Abby’s other breast and twisted roughly, tearing it completely off of her body.
Abby could no longer hold her torso up without the aid of the barbed leather straps. Her flesh, pressed against the binding by her own weights, was torn to pieces and her breasts hung on by no more than strips of skin.
Finally, she turned her attention to Mitch, who sat quietly in shock, covered in his friends’ blood and bits.
“I have a special surprise for you, baby.” From her bag, she pulled a small leather strap with shards of metal lining one side. “A mini-cilice. Just for you.” She pulled herself towards him and smiled. “And you made it so easy for me. I should’ve known sexual torture would turn you on.”
She wrapped the leather around his hard member and tightened. As the shards dug into the flesh between his legs, he cried out and struggled to free himself. Blood and skin flew about as he tried vainly to escape. “This would end sooner,” she laughed as she tightened the cilice, “if you’d stop moving so damn much. But who am I to deny you pain.” She removed the cilice and laughed. “Hangin’ on by a thread.”
“You crazy bitch I’ll kill you!”
“Really?“ Sonny arched an eyebrow as she grabbed the mangled penis. “Not likely.” She ripped the tip away from his body and shoved it into his mouth. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be killing you first.”
She stepped away and pulled from her bag her Browning 9mm and aimed it at him. “See?” She leaned in close and pressed the barrel of the gun against his forehead.
The fear and pain in his eyes was like a drug; she had waited so long for this moment, it had become an addiction. She wanted it to last, but she also knew morning was coming and she wanted out of Bedford before anyone even knew she was there.
“Oh, and one more thing.” She leaned towards him and whispered gently in his ear. What she said widened his eyes and before he could respond, she pulled the trigger, splattering his brain all over the tree trunk.
One by one she killed them, until only she remained.
- - - -
Sonny ran from Bedford. She never said good bye; no one knew where she was going. Her family long gone, Sammy was all she had in the world and with him dead, she could not face that town after what she had seen done to the sweetest, kindest and gentlest soul she had ever been blessed to know.
- - - -
“Police are baffled and a town is in mourning today as the remains of seven people have been discovered after what is believed to be the worst crime in the history of Bedford.
“The casualties reported include Sheriff Doyle and Deputy Hartmann, who were caught in an apparent explosion earlier this evening. Also confirmed dead is eighty-three year old Harold Bennett, a local shop owner. Four other bodies were found, though police are withholding the names until proper identification can be made.”
Glad they got my package. Sonny turned off the television and leaned back in the soft leather recliner with a smile. It was done. The nightmares could finally end. She looked up at the picture of Sammy hanging on the wall and gave a small nod. Its time for me to move on, sweetie. I still have some life left in me and I can’t spend it on the past. I’ll always love you, but its time to let you go.
Mommy?” A boy of about ten walked into the room. “Can we go to the beach now?”
"Sure Sammy. Get your stuff.”
- END -