Psycho Save Us by Chad Huskins Read Free Book Online Page A

smiling man.  Pale.  Pale as bone.  Pale and
black-hooded, and with kind eyes.  He smiled across at someone else.  He was
torturing somebody, and he was delighted.  It wasn’t the torture he was
enjoying, though.  Her charm told her this much.  Her charm, or the
fancifulness of her dream.  No, he was enjoying…freedom?  Yes…yes, that was
it.  He was free and he hadn’t been for a while.  But he was free now and
loving every minute of it.
    Then, she saw it .
    Oh God , she thought.  He’s
going to kill everyone .
    She parted her
lips and groaned, “Please…please, we have…we have to go…we have to run…far
away…from him…”
    The big bald
white man glanced down at her.  He smiled again, and she felt the wash of
lust.  “Shhhh.  Just relax.  It’ll all be over soon.”
    “We have…to
go…please…you don’t understand…he’s…”  Her eyelids felt so heavy.  So very, very
heavy.  “He’s…he’s going to kill…and the imps…he’ll bring the imps…and the
chains and the…the…briars…”
    Somewhere in the
car, someone’s phone rang.
    And someone
was…singing.
    “Come on,
baby…don’t fear the Reaper…baby take my hand…don’t fear the Reaper…we’ll be
able to fly…don’t fear the Reaper…baby I’m your mannnnnnnn…”
     

 
    2
     
     
     
     
    People
found out about Spencer Adam Pelletier when he was thirteen years old.  He was
still in the fifth grade, having failed two years in a row despite having
breezed through all previous four grades with straight A’s.  During that time,
he had been the kind of kid who was prone to acts of kindness, sharing his
lunch with poorer kids and sometimes just giving his lunch money away to the
kind of kids that didn’t eat at all and had to keep pretending that they’d lost
their lunch money every day, or that they just weren’t hungry.
    Teachers had
commented on just how terribly good Spencer was in all things, and found it
refreshing to talk about a child who was so giving.  He never mocked other
kids, and stood up for those that were getting made fun of.  If he couldn’t do
anything about it himself, Spencer made sure to tell a teacher.  He actually
did this three times in a row in his third-grade year, enough to be put on a
school poster.  Beneath his face had read the words BULLYING IS NOT ACCEPTABLE: BE
LIKE SPENCER, IF YOU SEE SOMEONE TREATED UNFAIRLY, BE SURE TO REPORT IT .
    Before he was
ten years old, many kids were already calling him a narc.  But that was fine,
because Spencer enjoyed it.  You see, long before anyone else in the world or
in his family found out the truth about Spencer Adam Pelletier, he’d found out
about himself.  He hadn’t been doing the right thing because he found it
moral.  No.  Not at all.  He’d been doing the right thing because he liked the
look on the faces of those who thought they could get away with something when they
suddenly realized they were not going get away with it.
    That’s a slight
distortion.  Spencer didn’t just like seeing this look on people’s faces.  He
relished it.  He relished it the way a person well-versed in tantric sex will
relish the build up to the finish, with almost no attention at all paid to the
final squirt at the end.  And, like a person versed in tantric sex, it took
practice to become good at it.
    Spencer
understood that there were all kinds of people in the world.  That there were
those who were born with a certain powerful or beautiful body type, which
allowed them to look down on others and society gave them the okay to do so, no
matter how many anti-bullying campaigns were launched.  Other folk were prone
to kind acts because, being bullied themselves, they could empathize with those
who were pushed around.  It was a survival mechanism: We should band
together .  United we stand, divided we fall .
    But no matter
which of these personalities a person happened to be, no matter what their body
or personality type, they