Blackened Spiral Down by Pete Altieri Read Free Book Online

spread-eagle.
    “You’ve been doing this for years.  I’ve seen it all,” he said, only a foot away from me now,  “I let it happen, because I wanted to damn your soul to Hell.  You turned me in, your own flesh and blood.  You knew I did that to put your Grandma out of her misery.  You . . . “
    His hand reached out and knocked the shotgun from my grasp.  More images were running through my mind.  I could see myself sawing a woman’s foot off, with a leg tightly in my vice.  I could see me standing back to admire the collection of severed heads, as if they were trophies in a case at a local high school.  To me, I guess that’s just what they were.
    Now my grandfather was holding open the door to the middle cell and pushing me inside.  I was helpless to resist.  I felt as if I were a rag doll in his firm hold, as he put the manacles on my own wrists.  I tried to scream, but no sound came out.  I tried to fight him, but there was no strength to do so.  He slammed the door, and I could hear the lock engage.  I was now trapped in one of the cells.  His laughing echoed throughout the basement.  It sounded more distant as he made his way back up the stairs.  Faintly I could hear him walking on the floor above, and then silence.
     
    5
     
    Days pass, and I’m still in the middle cell.  No one has come to give me any food or water, and I’m fading slowly.  I’m left to my own thoughts, which, as I relive each and every encounter in this basement, are my own living hell.  I can hear their screams and cries for help as I did those horrible things to them.  I only wanted someone to love, but they wouldn’t love me back.  No matter what I did to make their stay in the basement better, they still cringed in my presence.  They still recoiled at the mere sight of me.  When I raped them, they kicked and punched at me, until all I could do was knock them out and finish my business.  I just wanted someone to love.  Instead, I continued my spiral down into madness.  Now, in the darkness of the basement cell, I curse my grandfather for putting me in this situation, and hope that death comes to call. 
    As I stare into the blackness, I fear I will be here for all eternity, waiting for someone to love me back.  All I hear is their screaming in the silence, and it’s deafening.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Elvis and the Two Dead Hookers
     
     
    Elvis had no idea where the two dead hookers came from. He had never seen the two young girls before. He couldn't deny the facts. The car was his. The hookers were dead, and they were in his trunk. It was as simple as that. Right now as the hot afternoon sun baked everything in sight, Elvis Lee Lewis was hiding in the shade under some random back porch on Clayton Street. He was panting heavily after running from the cops for the past half hour. He was out of shape, and the smoking didn't help. Speaking of smoking, he craved a Marlboro right now, but in his frantic foot race from the police, he lost the pack he kept rolled up in his shirt sleeve.
    Less than one hour ago, he had been cruising down Lincoln Street in his hometown of Bloomington, Illinois. He was on his way home from his job as a mechanic for Taylor's Tire and Auto on the west side of town. It was a blistering August day in 1982.  It was Friday, and all Elvis (and his pelvis) could think about was getting home, taking a nice cool shower, picking up his girlfriend Cindy, and going out to Dawson Lake for her birthday. This had become an annual tradition for them and their close friends. Elvis and Cindy had been an item since their junior year at Bloomington High School. He had grown up a lot in the last few years and hoped they would get married soon.
    Elvis installed a modern stereo in the blood red 1950 Ford Mercury his grandfather left him when he died three years ago. He had restored the car as his first real project after high school and spent a lot of time searching for as many