Faces of Beth, page 16
light to seep through, but at the end of the hall there was no door,
only an archway that led into the next room, and that was where all
the cries for help were emanating.
In that open room, a purple strobe light flickered, and it was only
enough light for Andrew to catch a glimpse of some of the grotesque
horrors happening there.
With his back pressed against the wall, Andrew watched a naked
young woman with her knees on the cement floor, one cheek
pressed against a cinder block pillow, cry and beg for help with blood
running from her mouth as the blonde woman he saw downstairs
beat her across her back and ass with a bamboo cane.
“Please!” the woman cried. “Mistress, I want to go home! Please!
I don’t like this game!”
“This is your home now,” the woman they called Angel replied,
“and this is not a game. There are no safe words here. We stop
when you pass out or when we feel fulfilled. You should have never
offered yourself to me, Princess.”
As Andrew stared at the scene in front of him, he saw Gore move
toward the end of the hall. He stopped only ten feet in front of
Andrew and pulled his hoodie sweater off. He dropped it on the floor
before removing his T-shirt and then pulling off his jogging pants and
underwear. Naked and looking as sexy as the Beth he’d always
known and loved, Gore walked the rest of the way down the hall.
Angel stopped hitting the woman bent over the block and held the
cane over one shoulder as she watched Andrew’s wife enter the
room.
“Ohhhh,” Angel said, “I do remember you. I fucked you so royally
the last time that you couldn’t quite get enough. Isn’t that right,
Princess?”
“That’s right, Mistress,” Gore said.
Andrew wanted to scream, “No!” But he didn’t. He remained
silent.
“And you escaped.”
“I did. I thought I wanted out, but you’re all I could think about.”
“Mistress,” a man called out from somewhere inside, deep in the
darkness of the room, “what if she’s got cops downstairs waiting?”
“Boris is nervous,” Angel said. “Does he have reason to be?”
“I signed a contract, remember?” Gore replied.
“You signed a contract,” Angel let that thought simmer for a
moment. “Yes, you did. And nothing here is illegal. But just in case,
this time we will get you on video, to share your many talents on all
the social media sites. We wouldn’t want you sneaking away again.
Not that you would. I trust you’ve come back for the right reasons. I
can see it in your eyes. You need what only I can give you.”
“Yes,” Gore said, “just fuck me again, Mistress. I’ve missed you.”
“You will have to earn that – in pain.”
Angel, Mistress as they all called her, laughed, and the sound
that came out of her didn’t sound human. Andrew heard it and
wondered if Gore had been speaking in metaphors when he’d talked
about killing only demons. Or was the older woman’s voice only
ravaged by screaming and yelling at her sexual slaves?
The blonde Mistress led Gore to a pipe that ran across the wall
and made him hold onto it. Naked and vulnerable, Gore put both fists
up against the pipe.
The lights continued to blink, and Angel tapped Gore’s thighs
lightly with her cane.
“Spread your legs,” she ordered.
Gore did as he was told.
Angel placed the cane between Gore’s legs and lightly slapped it
against his pussy. “Do you like that?”
“I do, Mistress,” Gore replied.
Andrew watched Gore’s hands and noticed one wasn’t fully
gripping the pipe. From where he stood, he couldn’t quite see the
entire room. It sounded like there were other moans and cries for
help. Other grunts and complaints.
He wasn’t sure how afraid he should be in the situation because
he still didn’t understand how dangerous these people were but
standing in the shadows without anything to hide behind left him
feeling vulnerable, and for a second, he thought this mistress might
have seen him.
She froze amidst all she was doing and stared into the dark
hallway. Her eyes seemed to fix on him.
“Mistress, please let me go,” someone called out from the room
behind her. “I won’t tell anybody. I promise. I’ll never come back to
the club. I’ll never say anything.”
It seemed as if Angel was ignoring the shouting and had her
attention on Andrew. He nearly pissed his pants when she slowly
raised her right arm, lifted the cane, and stretched it out slowly so it
was pointed right at him. In the darkness, he couldn’t be sure, but he
thought her eyes were squinted like she was trying to make out his
form.
If she’d stayed like that even a few seconds longer, he might
have stepped out with his hands up in surrender. That’s how sure he
was that he’d been spotted.
But she wheeled around with her cane and pointed it swiftly in the
direction of the shouting woman and yelled, “Boris, shut her up, or I
will shut her up. She’s giving me a headache, and if I get a
headache, I swear on everything unholy that everyone in this room
will pay!”
Moans and groans went up all over the room as people
complained and begged for the girl to stop shouting.
There came a loud thwack that Andrew assumed came from
Boris, followed by a whine and a whimper.
“Should I fuck her some more, Mistress?” came a man’s voice.
“Go ahead,” Angel said nonchalantly, like she didn’t care at all
about the woman they were speaking of.
Then came the sounds of Boris’s pumping and wheezing along
with the woman’s moaning and sighing. Andrew couldn’t tell if this
couple’s sex was consensual or not. Every few thrusts or so, the
woman would complain, “It hurts,” but would go back to hissing
through her teeth until her next sigh and grievance.
“Please,” the woman on the cinder block near the door cried. “I
want to go home.”
Angel slammed the cane against her. The girl cried out.
“Do you want the razors again?” Angel threatened.
“No!” the girl screamed. “God! No, please. No! Please, no.”
“Then shut up!” Angel yelled. “You were suicidal when you came
to me. We’re going to see how close to death we can bring you. And
if you keep on, I’ll release those pictures of you to your parents and
friends. You want that?”
The girl only cried this time.
As Andrew’s eyes adjusted, he finally started to make out more of
the horrors in the room. Far in the background, a young man
dangled from his wrists by a set of handcuffs. He was naked and had
cuts all over his body. None of them looked life threatening, but
blood ran from all of them. His head dangled down like he was no
longer conscious.
To his right, a man was being fucked by another man, and in
between thrusts, the man doing the fucking was striking the other
across his back with what looked like a cat o’ nine tails. As the
leather flogger-like instrument with knotted ends tore into the man’s
back, he shrieked in pain, but his hands and feet were shackled to
the floor, so he couldn’t escape.
“Monty,” Angel said as she looked over at the men, “I think he
has had enough for now. Pull out of him and rub some of the sauce
on his hole.”
The man doing the fucking pulled out of him and laughed,
slapping the injured man on his freshly wounded back. The guy
shackled to the floor remained in position and cried, slobber dripping
down his chin.
“Not the sauce,” he begged. “Please, not the sauce.”
Andrew didn’t know what the sauce was, but the injured man’s
reaction told him enough. In his mind, he imagined it was ghost
pepper sauce or something hellacious like that. This sadistic bitch
seemed like the type to rub hot sauce on a man’s torn and tattered
asshole.
“Not the sauce,” the man continued to beg.
“You came back knowing the pain you would receive,” Angel said
to Gore, bringing Andrew’s attention back to what was happening
closest to him.
Angel moved out of view but returned with a long dagger and
brought the blade to Gore’s back where she pressed the tip against
his right shoulder blade and softly brought it toward his spine. Gore
tensed, and Angel smiled.
While the evil bitch’s attention was stuck on the kinky shit she
was doing with Andrew’s wife, Gore seemed to have a plan of his
own. Andrew watched as the fist he’d kept loose at the pipe slowly
unfolded a straight razor, the old-fashioned kind barbers used to
shave faces. As Angel was about to cut into his back, Gore spun out
of the way and swiped at her throat with the blade.
Angel dropped to her knees with her fingertips at her throat. At
first, it looked like she was only choking. Then blood began to pour
down her body, soaking her like a crimson chandelier.
Gore leapt out of view and glass shattered.
The strobe light stopped flickering and the room went completely
black.
A woman screamed.
The sickening thwack of a blade on flesh and guts repeatedly.
A man cried out in pain.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” someone yelled, it sounded like Boris.
The same someone screamed in agony.
Then he coughed and it sounded wet.
More yelling.
Crying.
Thwacks.
Thuds.
Thumps.
Argh!
Hugh!
Humph!
Hack!
Thwack!
Please!
The sounds of death are hard to explain, and all Andrew could
think was they all sounded wet. All the cries were throaty and wet. All
the slices and cuts were deep – and wet. All the dying was heavy
thumps – all wet. And the blood splattering and flinging this way and
that – so wet.
When Gore reemerged from the room and moved barefoot into
the hallway, his feet padded against the cold tile floor, and even they
sounded wet. In his hand, he still held his unfolded razor.
The way he walked out, his hair slicked back with blood, his body
so naked, and the strobe light flickering behind him. It took Andrew a
moment to realize the woman coming at him with the razor in her
hand wasn’t coming to kill him, too. It was Gore and they were on the
same side of this. Whatever this was.
Gore bent to retrieve his clothes and used his T-shirt to clean the
blood off him the best he could before pulling his hoodie down over
his head and pulling on his underwear and pants.
Behind her, the girl with her face against the cinder block was still
in the same position, begging to be set free.
“What about the girl?” Andrew asked.
“One of the others will help her,” Gore said.
They were about to step onto the elevator when a big, naked
man ran into the hall, wielding Angel’s dagger. “You think you can
walk in and out of here like that, bitch?”
“Hold on,” Gore said as he turned toward the man and walked
back to him. Andrew thought he might be Monty, the man with the
sauce.
“Come on, you cunt,” the big man said, his huge cock dangling
between his legs.
Andrew felt like he should do something, but Gore was handling
himself well, and he was liable to get himself killed if he intervened.
As Gore approached, he leapt left, then right, where he ran up
the wall and bounced off it with a move that was so blindingly fast
Andrew barely saw the razor’s blade cross the big man’s throat but
before Gore’s feet touched the ground, he’d also cut a giant ‘X’
across his chest.
The big man stared back at Gore, clutched his throat, took a few
steps back while choking on his own blood, and then fell backward.
As he fell, the rest seemed to happen in slow motion.
Gore and Andrew both yelled, “No!”
But there was no way to stop his massive, tree trunk of a body
from falling on the young woman, and when he did, his torso
smashed her head in, snapping her neck between the cinder block
and the floor.
Her constant cries were suddenly cut short with a sickening
“ungh” sound.
Gore stood looking down at the naked man’s body, which
covered the girl. He pushed him over with his foot, but the giant
barely budged. All that could be seen of the girl was her ass and
feet, still in the fetal position where Angel had kept her crouched
over that cinder block pillow.
“What the fuck?” Andrew said.
Gore didn’t respond.
“He just came out of nowhere.”
No response.
“We need to go.” Andrew tried to grab Gore’s arm, but Gore
slapped his hand away.
Andrew tried again and got the same response. After several
more attempts, Andrew walked toward the elevator, calling out over
his shoulder, “Gore, we need to fucking go, man.”
Finally, he came to his senses and turned to leave.
When the elevator doors opened, Andrew asked, “What
happened in that room?”
It took Gore a long time to answer, and when he did, he said,
“The same thing that happened to the nun you keep asking about.”
In the elevator, Gore anxiously tapped his foot, and when they
reached the ground floor, he rushed out of the building and toward
the car. He seemed worried or afraid.
As they approached the car, Gore threw the keys to Andrew and
said, “You drive.”
In the car, Andrew finally asked him, “What’s going on with you?”
Gore remained silent. His words from earlier came back to
Andrew.
I don’t hurt people. Never. Never innocent people. Only evil,
demons in human form. Evil people who hurt others.
The young woman hadn’t hurt anyone. This had become more
than vigilante justice.
What did that make Gore? What did that make Beth?
Andrew decided the question needed to be asked. Gore had to
be confronted.
“Gore, that’s enough of the silent act,” Andrew said. “You just
killed your first innocent person, didn’t you?”
15
Gore didn’t kill everyone that night in the condo building. The
innocents were left alive. All except that one poor girl who died in the
end. That one had been a mistake and it seemed to tear him up.
He’d only meant to hurt the evil ones. He made sure Andrew
understood that.
When Andrew asked about killing his first innocent person, Gore
lost it. He told Andrew he might have seriously fucked up. Beth was
innocent and should have always remained that way. Gore might
have stained her, might have made her body a receptacle of evil, a
canister that could carry wickedness, he might have opened their
home to something truly sinister.
He went on and on about how the killing of the evil ones made
him stronger and stronger. That’s why he did it. But now he’d made
the bad one stronger. This time he’d fucked up.
Andrew had listened quietly until he couldn’t take it anymore and
finally yelled out, “What the fuck are you talking about?!”
He’d had enough of the psychobabble bullshit. He didn’t
understand all this insane rambling. Gore never said more than a
few words and suddenly he was spouting out ridiculous gibberish.
After Andrew snapped at him, Gore shut up completely.
Now, he couldn’t help wondering what the crazy son of a bitch
had been talking about. What had Beth in her serial killer form been
warning him about? One thing Gore said kept running through his
mind.
“The same thing that happened to the nun you keep asking
about.”
What did it mean exactly? Had Gore killed the nun? Was that why
Beth and all her personalities refused to speak about it? Were they
afraid of Gore and what he might do? Was Father Dennis angry
about it?
Things seemed to change last night after they left the condo.
Gore seemed nervous in a way Andrew had never seen before. He’d
always seemed so in control of himself. The only other time he’d
seen him lose control was after he’d killed the guy outside the
Wicked Waltz, when Andrew had yelled Beth’s name and he’d
changed back to her, but that was more out of shock or surprise.
After that girl’s death, it was like Gore changed. It was like he
saw or noticed something that scared the shit out of him.
