The Sadist's Bible by Nicole Cushing Read Free Book Online Page A

speedometer was no longer one hundred percent accurate. It lurched forward and back erratically, even as she held the gas pedal down at a constant rate. All she could tell was that she was going somewhere in between sixty-five and seventy-five
    miles per hour. She knew just enough to feel assured she wouldn’t get snared in any
    speed traps. She sure as fuck didn’t need that right now. No cop would understand the
    necessity of putting her son in the trunk.
    A guy passed her on the left. Had to be going ninety. He had the interior lights on
    and he seemed to be fumbling for something. Looking into his car, through the
    downpour, was like looking at a melting oil painting. She could make out a rough outline of him. Even the night and the rain and the speed couldn’t obscure the fact he was well-muscled. She pulled even with him. Turned on her own interior light. Honked at him.
    He turned his interior light off. He didn’t even look over at her, let alone honk back.
    When God had claimed her as one of His wives, He cast a spell on all the men of the
    world to prevent them from pursuing her. Maybe , she told herself, he’s not looking because if he took his eyes off the road, in this heavy rain, he’d be asking for trouble .
    But that was all wishful thinking. The truth was that God had chosen her, and she’d
    foolishly agreed to be chosen, then He’d raped her, then He’d marked her as His
    property. Then, just for good measure, He’d saddled her with a little piece of Himself. A disfigured reminder of a monstrous night.
    Memories, like razor blades, started to slice trails through her brain. ( The sour,
    smoky stench of her own burning holes made her want to faint, but she couldn’t, and each hole would be blistered and scorched from the flames, but that didn’t stop Him... ) No. Not now. She couldn’t think about that stuff now. Not while she was driving.
    She’d freak out if she let all the memories loose in her head while she was driving. She had a Lortab in her glove box. She took it. Then she turned the stereo volume up to the
    highest level. Let the singer scream away the nightmarish past.
    The baby screamed louder.
    This had to end. The trunk wouldn’t be enough to end it. The baby couldn’t suffocate
    that way. It should have suffocated that way. Wouldn’t any other baby have suffocated that way? Was air getting in? Was the trunk closed all the way? She’d hoped she could
    put the baby out of its misery. Let it gradually lose consciousness from lack of oxygen.
    She’d thought the whole thing would be as painless as possible. She hadn’t expected this.
    A brown sign along the roadway announced an upcoming state park. (Which one,
    she couldn’t read through the sheets of rain.) Such places were typically nestled away in sparsely populated areas. No witnesses. She’d drive out there and bash the fuckin’ kid’s brains in. Hell, yeah – just fling it against the asphalt over and over again. Gentle murder wasn’t working. She’d have to be brutal.
    She took the exit and followed the curving road. Drove over fallen branches. Drove
    under a canopy of foliage so thick that, for a moment, there was a pause in the pounding on her car roof before the rain-drumming started anew. There was a blur of road and a
    blur of light and a turn to the left and a turn to the right and then an animal – a fucking animal , the size of a deer but looking more like a goat or a bull; no, having two heads, one of a goat and one of a bull – fuckin’ standin’ there, soaked, in the middle of the road.
    And she let out a shriek and she avoided the beast but then the road curved too sharply
    and she remembered that she’d been needing new tires for a while now and the road was
    too narrow and...
    Her whole world lurching...tumbling. Her stomach wobbling. Then an explosive
    slam against the ground. A cracking against a tree. A scraping of branches. Then more
    slamming ...then finally stopping.
    She tried to breathe, but