A Family of Violence Read online

  As he stared at the blank ceiling, Stanley whispered, “Why did I do that? Why did I hurt him? Why did I... Why did I kill him? That's not me. That's not who I am, right? I'm not a bad person, am I? Shit, I fucked up...”

  Stanley held his trembling hand to his face and sobbed. Saliva spurted through his gritted teeth and mucus dripped from his nostrils. He tried his best to muffle his hysterical cries, wheezing and croaking. The sheer agony was difficult to contain. With each grunt and groan, he saw a flash of Richie's eyes. His friend's fearful gaze rattled him.

  Stanley kicked the mattress and muttered, “Richie... Richie... Richie, you fucking idiot, why did you go down there? Why didn't you just listen to me for once in your pathetic life? Huh? Why did you make me do this?”

  Stanley wiped the tears from his cheeks and sniffled as he recomposed himself. The emotional pain and fear he felt were whisked away in an instant. He absently stared at the ceiling, watching as a spider skittered across the room. He sighed and shook his head as he realized he was truly apathetic – he did not care.

  The tears were nothing but a facade to make himself feel better. He did not feel guilt or pity for his slain friend and the simple fact bothered him. He wanted to feel something, anything, but the emotions would not awaken. His conscience remained dormant, despite his prodding. He felt like a vessel operating on auto-pilot.

  Stanley pondered his relationship with Richie, reminiscing about the good times. Despite coming from different families, Richie was a better brother than Daniel. Richie was always willing to offer a helping hand. The young teenager would brawl with a class full of brawny bullies to protect Stanley. Stanley couldn't say the same for himself. Frankly, he didn't care about Richie's untimely death.

  Stanley smirked and whispered, “Why didn't I do it earlier? Why didn't I make you squeal like a pig before? Huh? Why didn't I chop you up and feed you to your mom? Why didn't I kill you earlier, asshole? Why didn't–”

  Stanley erratically blinked as he snapped out of his vicious tirade. His words and thoughts were vile. He smacked his forehead with his palm, trying to break free from the reprehensible trance. He was baffled, mystified by his shifting character. He thought: who am I? What am I saying? What's happening to me?

  Teary-eyed, Stanley whispered, “No, no. I didn't mean it, Richie. I never wanted to hurt you... You were my best friend, my only friend. Please, forgive me. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...”

  Stanley turned and buried his face in his comfortable pillow. He softly whimpered as he contemplated every word he uttered. His thoughts were muddled. He was lost in a clouded maze, wandering from one dead-end to another. The conflicting emotions made his stomach turn and his brain throb. He wept into his pillow as the sunshine dwindled. Without another word to his parents or brother, he slipped into his nocturnal slumber.

  Chapter Four

  Welcome to the Family

  Stanley shambled through the woodland, searching for the abandoned house. With each cracking twig and groaning branch, he glanced over his shoulder. Only the wind followed him, but he felt a stronger presence – a pair of judgmental eyes watching him from afar. He swallowed the lump clogging his throat, then he glanced up at the sky. The early morning clouds blocked the sun.

  Stanley whispered, “It's always cloudy on my birthday...”

  The young teenager grunted as he stumbled forward. His eyes widened upon spotting the dilapidated home. To his utter surprise, Ed was already outside. He was dragging two black garbage bags towards the back of the house. Although he could not see through the stuffed bags, he could see strands of human hair protruding from the opening.

  Kat simpered as she stood on the porch and watched Stanley. She said, “Ed, it looks like we have a little visitor.”

  Ed dropped the bags and looked over his shoulder. He said, “It looks like you're right. I sure hope he's alone.” He walked towards the rickety porch steps. As he sat on the stairs, he beckoned to Stanley and said, “Come here, boy.”

  Stanley stood by a tree as he examined the murderous couple. Although the bags were ominous, the pair did not seem malicious. He couldn't identify the reason behind their actions, but they welcomed him with open arms. The sincere acceptance was strangely reassuring. It was never easy for an introverted teenager to make friends. Stanley's legs wobbled due to the anxiety as he walked towards the porch.

  Kat asked, “What are you doing here, sweetheart? You want–”

  Ed held his right hand up, calling for silence without uttering a word. He gazed into Stanley's eyes and asked, “You didn't tell anyone about yesterday, did you?” Stanley did not respond – the frog in his throat only allowed him to croak. Ed said, “It would be very stupid of you to do that, boy. Now, I want you to tell me the truth. The truth will let you live. Being honest with yourself, with who you are... That's liberating. Believe me, boy, I know it very well. So, tell me: did you tell anyone about yesterday?”

  Stanley slowly shook his head and said, “No.”

  A dead silence followed the blunt response. Ed stared into Stanley's eyes. The windows to his soul were filmy, but he found a decent view. The man was reading the teenager's mind, analyzing his character. The teenager was honest – frightened but honest. Ed smirked and nodded – I believe you, boy.

  Kat leaned on a pillar and said, “That's good, sweetie. I don't see any pigs stampeding through this forest, so I think we can trust you.” She placed her index finger on her lips and simpered. She leered at the teen and said, “Well, I don't know, you could be wearing a wire. Maybe we should strip you down and check. You might like it.”

  As he stared at Stanley, Ed shook his head and said, “Enough of that, Kat. If he's interested in a cougar like yourself, he'll let you know. You see, this is an honest boy we've got here. I can see it in his eyes. It'll take him some time to break free from his chains, but he'll break 'em. Yeah, he'll break free and let loose.” He chuckled as he swiped at his nose. He asked, “Now, what are you doing here? How can we help you, St–”

  As Ed hesitated, Stanley said, “Stanley. My name is Stanley.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I remember. How can we help you, Stanley? What are you doing back here? We thought you'd run off and forget about this. I was betting you'd kill yourself. I was wrong, though. You're obviously something different.”

  Kat smirked and said, “Very different and very attractive.”

  Stanley ran his fingers through his hair as he stepped forward. He was not afraid of the sinister couple, especially since they were not armed. He was afraid of his emotions – or lack thereof. He wanted to explain himself accurately without offending Ed or Kat. His articulation had to be meticulous. What to say, what to say, he thought.

  Stanley licked his lips, then he said, “I... I wanted to talk to you about something. I–I wanted... I don't know, I wanted to ask you something.”

  Ed asked, “What is it?”

  “Well, I've... I've been feeling strange since yesterday. I've been feeling really sick because... because...”

  “Because you killed your chubby friend?”

  “Because I don't feel anything for my friend. He was my best friend and now he's dead, but I don't feel anything. It makes me scared. I'm... I'm scared of myself, I guess. I don't know how to explain it. It's not normal, is it?”

  Ed staggered to his feet, patting the dirt from his jeans and the wrinkles from his shirt. He glanced at Kat with a deadpan expression. The young woman returned the steady face. As the couple turned back towards Stanley, Ed and Kat smiled and chuckled. Their sincere laughter was harmonious, echoing through the woodland.

  As he recomposed himself, Ed said, “It's nothing, boy. It's completely normal like morning wood. Like I said, you're breaking free. You're having an... an awakening. You're becoming yourself, you understand? The whole 'he was my best friend' bullshit was never real. It was bullshit. What you're feeling now, that's you. That's the real you. As long as you don't suppress the new you, you won't feel sick or strange. Trust me.” />
  Stanley shook his head and said, “I don't understand. I didn't want to do that to him. I didn't mean to hurt him. I'm a... I'm a good–”

  Kat interrupted, “A good boy? You're still a good boy, sweetie. And, you're still alive. You did what you had to do to survive. That's all that matters. There is no good or bad in this shitty little world of ours. It's just something they tell you to stop you from meeting your full potential. Those labels stop you from exploring yourself and becoming who you should be. You understand? They're afraid of people like us because we're not like them. We're free, they're enslaved. We're enlightened, they're stupid.”

  “They?”

  Ed explained, “Your parents, law enforcement, the government... The people that create and enforce this 'moral code' bullshit. They want you to live a 'regular' life. They want you to go to school, work a shitty job, get a check, get married, spawn a few pieces of shit, then die. A regularly-scheduled program. Liberal or conservative... that shit doesn't matter. They want to control your life. 'Don't drink too much, don't do drugs, don't have sex, don't kill to relieve your stress.' When you break away from those chains, though, you start to live. There is no good or bad. You're as good as you think you are. You understand?”

  Stanley despondently stared down at his muddy sneakers, ingesting the intriguing information. He couldn't tell if the couple were actually enlightened or deranged – or perhaps both. He was willing to accept any explanation as long as he felt better about himself. Murder sat on his shoulders and he yearned to release the heavy burden.

  Teary-eyed, Stanley said, “I still killed him, though. I killed someone. I did something very bad and I broke the law. Even if I don't feel it, I know it.”

  Ed wagged his index finger at the boy and said, “You only 'know' it because that's what they told you. Think about it, boy. If you don't feel anything for it, then it wasn't bad. Right? Laws, morals, ethics... It's all bullshit. It's all man-made. How can one man tell us something's bad? Huh? How can another man tell us how to live? They can't. You killed someone to survive and you don't feel guilty. That's that. If you liked it, then that's just who you are. That doesn't make you good or bad. It makes you human.”

  Kat said, “Listen to your gut, sweetie. Don't listen to your parents or the cops, listen to yourself for once. You make your own laws, just like us. Don't force yourself to feel guilty because your 'friend' couldn't survive. And, don't be afraid of yourself, either. If you want blood, you go out there and get blood. You understand?”

  Stanley slowly nodded and said, “Yes, ma'am.”

  “Call me 'Kat,' sweetie. I'm not that old.”

  Ed smiled and nodded as he approached their visitor. He was content with their discussion, happy to enlighten and inspire. He felt a connection with the young teenager. Although Stanley could not see it, the pair were cut from the same cloth. From their lust for blood to their sheer apathy, Ed and Stanley shared similar traits. Ed simply embraced his deviant desires more than Stanley.

  Ed placed his hand on Stanley's shoulder and said, “Boy... Stanley, you are not a bad person. I want you to remember that. You're a survivor, a free spirit. You shouldn't be scared of yourself, you should be embracing it. Fuck good and bad! Fuck the law! Kill the pricks that fuck with you, beat the shit out of anyone looking your way! You feel free to be yourself. You understand me?”

  Stanley nodded and said, “I understand. Thank you.” He glanced over his shoulder as he thought about his birthday celebration. He said, “I have to go now. It's my birthday, so I have to be with my family.”

  From the porch, Kat said, “Oh, that sounds like fun. You should have told me it was your birthday, though. I would have taken you inside and made you a man. Too bad. I guess there's always next time...”

  Stanley anxiously smiled and murmured, “Yeah, sure.”

  Ed said, “Go on. Enjoy yourself. Remember what I said: let yourself be free. Whatever you're thinking, do it.”

  Stanley gazed into Ed's vibrant eyes. He could see the ferocious murderer was genuine. The man was trying to help Stanley feel comfortable with his actions – and it worked. Stanley smiled and nodded in agreement, accepting the advice. His conscience remained dormant, struggling to awaken. He walked towards a tree, then he stopped.

  As he watched Stanley with a furrowed brow, Ed asked, “What is it?”

  Stanley glanced back at the abandoned house and asked, “Is it okay if I come back sometime?”

  Ed huffed and smiled at the innocent question. The request was oddly heartwarming. He glanced back at Kat and softly chuckled. Kat returned the laughter, simpering like a child playing a devious prank. The couple were blessed with joy.

  Ed said, “I think I know what you'll say, but I have to ask. What do you think, Kat? Should we welcome him to the family?”

  Kat smirked and said, “Of course.” She turned towards Stanley and said, “You're welcome to come back any time, sweetie. We've spilled blood together. We're family.”

  Stanley smiled and nodded. Like the sinister couple, he was overwhelmed by a wave of happiness. He waved at Ed and Kat, then he jogged through the woodland. He glowed with wondrous exuberance, like a child on Christmas. He was a murderer, but his actions were justified. He was a loner, but he was finally accepted.

  As he ran, Stanley whispered, “We're family...”

  Chapter Five

  For His Amusement Only

  Stanley shook like a dog out of a bath as he stumbled out of the exit. Water dripped from his soaked hair and drenched t-shirt. He glanced back with wide eyes, watching as the cheerful families and groups of friends meandered down the artificial river. The river rapids ride was teeming with jolly patrons.

  Stanley smiled and whispered, “That was awesome.”

  Daniel slapped the back of Stanley's head and said, “I'm surprised you didn't fall out of the ride, chump. You looked like you were going to cry on that first drop.”

  “No, I didn't. I got water in my eye.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  As Daniel chuckled and walked ahead, Stanley shook his head and indistinctly muttered. Like the roller coaster roaring above him, his emotions were on a thrill ride. One second, he was ecstatic; the next, he was furious. He thought about tripping his brother, but he didn't want to cause a scene. He wanted to avoid embarrassment on his birthday.

  As the siblings approached, Julia lifted her shades and said, “I got some pictures of you guys from the bridge. Did you see us?” Daniel and Stanley simultaneously nodded – yeah. Julia tapped Daniel's bulging bicep and said, “I'll send them to you in a minute. You can share them with your friends later. I think they'll want to see these.”

  Daniel said, “Yeah, yeah. Sure...”

  Michael wrapped his arm around Julia and joked with Daniel. Stanley ignored the chatter as he examined his father. The stern man wore a striped polo shirt, beach shorts, and black water shoes. His appearance was oddly jumbled, like if he got dressed in the dark – at least partially. He seemed more relaxed than usual, but he was still distant. He didn't notice Stanley's mood swings.

  Michael asked, “Hey, kiddo, what do you want to ride next? Hmm? You wanna try out the Shriek-and-Creak?”

  Stanley rubbed the nape of his neck and responded, “I don't know...”

  Chiming-in, Daniel said, “He's too scared to ride it. Shit, I know he won't do it by himself.”

  “Oh, settle down, Daniel. Don't tease him on his birthday. You know better than that,” Julia scolded. “He doesn't have to ride it if he doesn't want to. Leave him alone.”

  Michael smiled and said, “Come on, kiddo. I'll ride it with you. What do you say?”

  Stanley nervously chuckled as he glanced around the amusement park. He already knew his answer, he was simply caught by surprise. He did not expect the offer from his father. He expected his brother to show a shred of kindness before his own dad. The glance around the park was simply a motion to savor the moment.

  Stanley sighed, then he said, “Okay, s
ure.”

  “That's my boy. Come on, let's get there before more people show up. You know how this park gets when it's full. We'll be waiting there for hours.”

  Michael, Julia, and Daniel walked ahead. Stanley followed only a few steps behind. He glanced up at the large ride – the focal point of the park, the Shriek-and-Creak. The metal roller coaster hurtled at breakneck speeds nearing 100 miles per hour. The ride featured steep, long drops and wicked twists and turns. The ferocity of the ride was not nearly as bad as the noise. The patrons' shrill shrieking and the ride's mechanical creaking was nightmarish for a boy with irrational fears. The ride seemed capable of falling apart at a moment's notice, like wet paper.

  Michael glanced over his shoulder and said, “Too bad Richie couldn't be here, right, kiddo?”

  Julia said, “Oh, that's right. What happened? I thought his mom would let him do anything. That boy is always running around without supervision. Wasn't he going to meet us here?”

  Stanley anxiously smiled and rubbed the nape of his neck. He hopped into several rides, devoured funnel cake, and joked with his family all day. Richie didn't cross his mind. He had not thought about his slain friend since the morning he spent with Ed and Kat.

  Stanley said, “I don't know what happened. Maybe he got sick or maybe he finally got in trouble. I don't know. I haven't spoken to him in a few days.”

  Julia furrowed her brow and asked, “Weren't you just with him yesterday?”

  “Huh? No, I was going to hang out with him, but I guess he was busy. I don't know. I'll call him when we get home, I guess.”

  Julia puckered her lips and nodded. She could have pried into Stanley's lies, but she decided to give him a pass. The birthday boy always deserved at least one free pass in the King household. Stanley wondered if he could use it to pardon the murder he committed instead of a fib. It would surely help put his doubt to rest, but it did not seem likely. Oh, you killed your best friend? Don't worry, sweetie, it's your birthday.