Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-28428152-20181005210030

Chapter IV

Ben stood amidst the ruins of his grandparents’ house, black ruins sizzling to the snowy ground. He shuffled his feet through the ashes, wondering what had happened.

“Enjoying the scenery?” a familiar voice said behind him.

Ben turned, and through the soot and snow floating in the air, he recognized the face of Mohamed. The only light in the night came from the persistent embers that were struggling to stay alive, casting Mohamed’s face in a sinister glow. Ben had to remind himself that this wasn’t Mohamed, but the Nameless. He had to keep his heartstrings from being pulled.

“What?” Ben asked.

Mohamed—no, the Nameless—smirked and took a deep breath of the smoky air as though he was savoring the scent of mountain pines.

“What do you want?” Ben asked again.

The Nameless opened his eyes and picked up a sooty black book.

“You ever read this book? It’s a cute little read.”

Ben recognized the shiny red embellishments on the cover.

“Yes,” he said.

The Nameless gave a soft little chuckle.

“Did you look at it again, after our last little chat?”

“The pages were gone.”

Ben wiped the sting from his eyes, the smoke making them water up.

“Well, that’s a damn shame. Because I really want you to read it. Maybe I can find the pages if first, you do a little something for me.”

Ben took a step backwards, wringing his hands together. He didn’t like the sound of this.

“Do you remember me asking about your cousin?”

Ben nodded his head, casting his eyes to the burnt decay piled around him.

The Nameless cocked his head in mock confusion.

“What was his name again?”

“Mike.”

“No, no. I mean his full name.”

Ben winced against the air and cocked his eyebrows.

“Why?”

The Nameless casually strode over to a chair, wiping soot and ash off the seat before taking a seat.

“Let’s just say that a certain… business associate of mine is very interested in your cousin. And let’s just say that I have a certain contract with this associate that I need to fulfill.”

They stared at each other for a moment, the Nameless awaiting his response and Ben too scared to return the inquiry. An owl hooted from somewhere close, causing the Nameless to jump, though he quickly regained his posture.

“Hm. I suppose you’re wondering what this business is, and what it has to do with you.”

Ben slowly nodded his head, not taking his eyes off of the shell of his friend.

“Well, it’s none of your business, Ben. All you need to know is that… if you don’t get me the information I need, then you will be a very sorry boy. A very sorry boy, indeed.”

“What do you mean?” Ben asked.

“Ha! You don’t even want to know, my friend.” Ben winced at the Nameless calling him “friend.” He had desecrated the precious memory of Mohamed, and that was not something Ben took to kindly.

“Cat got your tongue? Very well, then I’ll repeat the question: what is Mike’s full name?”

Ben lowered his head and sighed. He was tired… tired of the emotional rollercoaster his young life had become.

“Michael. Michael Uriah Erikson. I think.”

The Nameless’ eyes opened up in delight and he jumped to his feet, the motion seeming off, somehow.

“Good. That’s good Ben. Now tell me, how well do you know him?”

The owl screeched this time, as if to stop the conversation. The Nameless looked a bit worried as he tried to find it, but he could not.

“Well, what is it?” he snapped.

Ben shook his head. “Not very well.”

“Oh, well, that’s alright. Do you happen to know where he lives? Is he in Woodgrove like you?”

Ben knew that this was going nowhere good. He didn’t want to answer, but the Nameless grabbed a particularly deadly looking piece of wood, as though to keep him motivated to talk.

“Maysburg,” he replied reluctantly.

An enormous great-horned owl flew on top of a collapsed beam of wood that leaned against the wall.

“Get out of here!” the Nameless cried, trying to disguise the fear in his voice. Ben somehow felt that the owl was there to protect him.

The Nameless picked up a brick and hurled it at the owl, ignoring ben’s cry of protest. The owl flew away.

“Goddammit,” the Nameless muttered to himself. “How the fuck did she find us? Anyways, is that the same town where we stand now, in the remnants of the humble home of your beloved grandparents?”

Ben slowly nodded his head, his hands clenched so tightly that his fingernails were cutting into the skin of his palms.

“I see. And who was the stand-up gentleman I also saw at your birthday? The policeman?”

“You were there?” Ben asked.

“Of course I was, Ben. How else would I have known about your cousin? Now answer my question. I’d hate to have to use force.”

He twirled the piece of wood in his palms.

“That… that was Larry.”

“Larry…?”

“Larry Ross.”

“Good. And what town is he from?”

“He’s from Maysburg, too.”

“Are you from there as well, by any chance?”

Ben nodded his head.

“Well, seems to me like you ought to pay a visit sometime. Perhaps I can arrange that for you. Ain’t nothin’ like family, is there? At least, that’s what I hear. Never really had a family myself. Sometimes, I like to imagine what it’s like. And then I remember why I’m glad I don’t.”

The Nameless set down the piece of wood.

“Is… is that it? Can I wake up now?”

“Just one more thing,” the Nameless said. “Make sure to read that book when you get the chance. I’ll be sure to find those pages for you. And you’ll know when I find them. Don’t worry, you’ll know.”

*  *     *     *  *

It was Sunday morning. 6:30 in the morning, according to Ben’s clock. In half an hour, his parents would be rousing him on their weekly excursion to church, where Ben would be lulled to sleep by the preacher, and Dave would keep pinching him to wake him up. But at least his grandparents would be coming as well, having stayed the night in the guest room for the occasion.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Charlie greeted twenty minutes later, pouring himself a large bowl of Count Chocula.

“Morning.”

“Sleep well?”

Ben lied and nodded his head, hoping he wouldn’t notice the bags under his eyes.

“That’s good. Damn, guess everyone else is sleeping in a little.” He glanced briefly around the empty room.

“I guess,” Ben said.

He poured himself a bowl of his own Count Chocula and began to tiredly munch on the chocolatey chunks.

“Oh yeah, meant to mention yesterday,” Charlie announced a moment later, “was talking to your cousin Mike the other day, wanted to know how you were doing.”

Ben’s stomach did a flip.

“I told him the happenings. We oughta see him sometime. When he’s not busy, though. I don’t know how the guy does it, but he’s double majoring at MTSU and working a full-time job. Think it’s at Dingle Burger, but he’s wanting to go to NASA. Got his bachelor’s already, think he’s working on his master’s right now. I forget what his majors are, though. Something to do with physics, that’s all I know. Just watch out, he might start talking your head off about String Theory and multiple universes. Interesting stuff, but I don’t understand the half of it.”

Ben nodded. “Yeah, it’d be nice to see him.”

Secretly, he wasn’t sure if he could stomach such a visit. Even though Ben didn’t know him well, Mike was still family, and Ben didn’t like what he had done. He wouldn’t have been any more eager to sell out his parents, however much tension there had been between them as of late.

The sermon that day was just as boring as ever. Out of sheer boredom, Ben decided to count the exact number of times Dave pinched him and was shocked to find that it had been a grand total of forty-six pinches. His arm was sore by the end of the sermon.

Afterwards, Helen proposed that they take another private outing to Baskin-Robbins, to which Ben eagerly agreed.

“Hey, Ben,” Helen said after a few minutes of silence. “Is everything okay at home?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, not wanting to sell out even more of his family members.

“You sure? You seem a bit gloomy today. And I know how Dave can be. God, he was a nightmare trying to raise him.”

Ben chuckled lightly, though not really seeing much humor in the statement. He felt weak… as a person. He knew he shouldn’t have given Mohamed (no, the Nameless) what he wanted. He couldn’t imagine what horrors would happen to his cousin. And he knew that it would be all his fault. Typical, just typical. The worthless scum he was.

“Ben?” Charlie asked. “You okay?”

Ben thought about lying again, but he couldn’t lie to his grandparents. The two people he loved most in the world. And he knew they wouldn’t believe him—hell, might even call him crazy—but he couldn’t lie to them. His heart was bruised and bleeding enough as it was.

“N…no, sir.”

Charlie blinked his eyes, clearly not expecting such a direct answer.

“What is it, honey?” Helen asked, placing a warm hand on Ben’s knee.

He tried to look for the words, but they didn’t seem to want to show themselves.

“I… don’t know. It’s just—I don’t think you’d believe me.”

Helen leaned towards him, an earnest gleam in her old green eyes that glowed with wisdom.

“Ben, you’ve already said enough for me to believe anything you say. We’re here for you. You’re our grandson, and we will do everything in our power to keep you happy and to keep you safe. Now, what is it?”

Ben took a deep breath and forced the knot in his abdomen out of the way of his words.

And Ben told them everything.

“So, you did make him wash out his mouth with soap for an hour?” Helen exclaimed.

“Well, he has to learn somehow,” Dave replied irritably.

“But liquid soap for an hour?”

“He didn't learn from the bar soap last time, so, this liquid soap this time,” Ben heard his mother respond.

“Plus,” Dave argued, “he kept arguing with me. I was gonna make it half an hour, but I had to make it an hour. Ben nearly pushed it to two hours.”

Charlie scoffed. “And if he’d accidentally swallowed it?” he asked incredulously.

“Then it’d teach him his lesson even better!” Penny retorted.

It wasn’t very late, but Ben had been sent to bed early after falling asleep on the couch. Once in bed, though, he found it impossible to go to sleep. Drawn by the sounds of heated words, he was now crouched at the top of the stairs as he listened to the argument in the living room below.

“Dave,” Helen sighed, “did we teach you nothing as a child?”

“No, not much. Did a pretty piss poor job, if you ask me.”

There was a pause, in which Helen muttered Charlie’s name as if to keep him from retaliating.

“Helen,” Charlie said lowly, “we need to talk to them about the book.”

“Book?” Ben’s father asked confusedly, “Dad, what book are you talking about?”

“David,” Charlie began heavily, “Benjamin has told us about a particular book that he found a little while ago. On his birthday, actually. He says he told you about it?”

There was a long pause.

“Oh!” Penny exclaimed. “Davey, he means the book Ben said was written in blood!”

“That?” he scoffed. “That stupid thing he made up? You don’t honestly believe him, do you? It’s nonsense! He’s just trying to get attention, and I really don’t approve of that kind of behavior.”

“Nonsense?” Helen muttered in a dangerously quiet voice. “What’s nonsense is staging an elaborate prank, as you call it, and seriously traumatizing the poor kid! For God’s sake, David, he’s only eleven! What were you thinking, that you could send it to America’s Funniest Home Videos or something?”

“Prank? What prank?” Penny blurted a little too hastily. “We just ignored that whole book nonsense. What is this prank-y thing?”

Ben couldn’t help but notice the mistake in her lie and smile a little to himself.

“He says you lured him into the attic and scared him!” Charlie yelled. Ben wondered if he left out his father’s reaction that night on purpose or not.

“What?” laughed Dave disbelievingly. “You don’t seriously buy that crap, right? I mean, Jesus, he’s claiming to have a book written in blood.”

“I,” Helen stressed, “am willing to take Ben’s word wholeheartedly on this.”

“You’re joking, right? I Mean, c’mon, the whole things just fucking preposterous.”

Ben heard something hard and hollow flop onto the coffee table. Briefly peeking down into the living room, he could see his parents staring open-mouthed at the page-less cover to The Book of Agony. He had given it to his grandparents earlier to prove that he was telling the truth.

“Ring any bells?” Helen prodded.

“I-I--”

“Helen,” Ben heard his mother say quietly, “where are the pages?”

“Ben said he found them torn out yesterday morning.”

“But-but—" Dave blubbered.

“Look,” Charlie said, “Ben’s experiences with this thing have disturbed him greatly--”

“Experiences? What experiences?”

“He hasn’t told you?”

“N-no,” Dave stammered.

“Nightmares every night, David. Every single night he has to watch his friend Mohamed get murdered right in front of his eyes.”

“Feels like he’s always being watched. And now he says there’s… something—I won’t say what because you’ll just blow it off—is following him. Talking to him. Tormenting him, David. And this is your son, we’re talking about.”

“Well, I um—”

“No,” Charlie stated. “Don’t just sit there and say meaningless nonsense to me when Ben’s health is at stake here. And I’ll ask you this once: are you going to do anything about this? Something that preferably doesn’t involve yelling at him and demeaning him?”

“Uh, I… I… well….”

“That answers my question, David. You know, I love you with all my heart. But I cannot sit here and idly watch as you neglect and abuse my grandson. As a man who tries to live his life decently, I simply cannot do it. And I am unabashedly disappointed that you can’t be man enough to take care of your only son.”

Ben poked his head back down for a moment and was surprised to see that there were tears in his father’s eyes and that Penny was covering her own eyes with her hand.

“Dave,” Helen said softly but sternly, “Charlie and I really think that you should let Ben come live with us. He’s not happy here, and he’s only getting worse.”

“Get out.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Get. The fuck. Out. Now.”

“How dare you talk to your mother that way?”

“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

There was a heavy silence, after which Ben heard the shuffling of coats and the soft closing of the front door. A moment, later, Ben heard the engine of the Tacoma fire up and drive away.

“Benjamin Gordon Ross!” Ben heard from the bus stop.

“Get your fucking goddamn punk-ass in here!”

He warily turned his gaze towards his house and standing on the front porch was the menacing figure of his father.

Knowing better than to make the trip as slowly as possible, he hurried over to the house, fear mounting within him.

When he approached the house, he slowed down slightly. His father stood in the doorway, his knuckles white against the wall and his eyes blazing with an insane fury the likes of which he had never seen before. He glanced down and thought that he must be wrong, but there appeared to be blood on his shoes.

“Upstairs. Bedroom. Now!” he spat, grabbing Ben by the shoulders and shoving him towards the stairs.

At the top of them, standing to the left of them and by his bedroom door was the disapproving stare of his mother. The look on her face was of utmost disgust and loathing. He didn’t want to climb the steps, but his father pushed him so that his face hit one of the steps.

“Ow!” he cried.

“Shut up!”

He picked himself up, his body hot and stinging with sweat underneath his heavy winter coat and hurried up the stairs.

“Inside,” Penny snarled.

Ben grasped the bedroom door handle.

“Open it.”

Bracing himself and trying not to hyperventilate, he pushed open the door.

And he screamed.

His bedroom was as close to Hell as he could imagine. Nailed to the walls, ceiling, and floor were the missing pages the Nameless had promised to give him. But this was not what made Ben scream. Blood was splashed like a grim piece of modern art all over the room, and in the center of it was where the most blood was. And it was where the intestines were, as well, piled up like fetid dog shit. An intestine led up from the floor and was connected to Mohamed Halabi’s naked corpse, which was suspended from the ceiling fan by the noose, jerking grossly from the fan’s rhythmic pulse. His eyes had been gouged out, and dried blood caked the outsides of his eyes, nose, and mouth. His throat had been slit, and blood dribbled all the way down to where his chest had been ripped open all the way down to his crotch, his insides spilling out onto the floor, blood still dripping with a quiet splat, splat, splat, splat, splat against Mohamed’s disembodied lungs.

And Ben screamed.

“Don’t you DARE fucking scream, you little psycho!” his father roared from behind. “Do you see what you did? DO YOU SEE WHAT YOU DID?”

Ben wanted to turn around, but he couldn’t; his eyes were locked upon the mutilated body of the closest friend he’d ever head that now hung in his bedroom.

“ANSWER ME!”

Ben turned around to face the other horror in the room.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO THAT FUCKING DOG?”

“D-dog?” he responded meekly.

“DON’T FUCKING PLAY WITH ME! DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING PLAY WITH ME!” His father paused, taking a deep breath. “Alright, fine. It’s pretty fucking clear what this is. You don’t want to live here anymore? Fine. You’d rather live with your precious grandparents than your own parents. Fine. But don’t bring this shit into my FUCKING HOUSE!”

His father grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around and grabbed him by his backpack, throwing him face first into the wall next to the hole Ben had made himself.

“David!” Penny shrieked, though it sounded distant to Ben.

“YOU LITTLE BITCH, WHAT IN THE HOLY FUCKING HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, HUH?!” his father thundered deafeningly as he advanced menacingly. “DO YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?! THIS IS JUST SOME KIND OF SICK JOKE?!”

“Dad, Dad—" Ben stammered, but he was picked up by the hair and his father came within an inch of his face.

“NO, LISTEN TO ME, YOU PSYCHOTIC PIECE OF SHIT! I’M GONNA BEAT THE LIVING HELL OUT OF YOU, AND YOU’RE GONNA TAKE IT!”

He slammed Ben’s head into the floor, ripping off his backpack simultaneously.

“M-Mommy!” he screamed through having his head slammed into the bloody ground repeatedly.

“David, STOP! DAVID!”

Penny rushed in and tried to push his father off of him, but he only let go of Ben and decked her in the face.

“You BITCH!”

Ben then found himself being thrown into the dresser, his lamp falling off and bashing into his skull. He tried to crawl away, but his father kicked him back into the dresser.

“''Whose dog is that Ben? WHOSE DOG?”''

Ben didn’t understand what he meant. All he knew was that his friend’s corpse was in the center of the room, and soon his own corpse would join it.

Penny came charging back into the room with a bat and bashed it into his father’s ribs. He screamed but said nothing as he grabbed it from her and swung it into her head, her body going limp and falling into the pile of intestines.

He then threw the bat down and grabbed the lamp and beat Ben in the face with it again and again, the lampshade eventually coming off and the lightbulb breaking over his face, blood streaming into Ben’s eyes.

“DADDY! DADDY, PLEASE!”

He said nothing as he picked Ben up and threw him into the closet, Ben’s body slumping on the floor. Through the blood, sweat, and tears, Ben saw it. He saw Mohamed’s corpse standing in the corner, smiling at him. From the ceiling hung the corpse of a brindle pitbull, mutilated in the same exact way.

“It… it was him, Dad….” Ben gasped, trying to point at the Nameless, but he was not heard. David Ross grabbed the bat and beat Ben with it, his bones breaking one by one. In the corner, the Nameless smiled.

And an owl cried outside the window. 