Twisted

About TWISTED

From the dark mind of K.A. Bettes comes this unsettling collection of 26 short stories, each more twisted than the last. The stories within will leave you feeling uneasy, shocked, and disturbed.

REVIEWS

Twisted is twisted. – Independent Review

I loved it to its sick little core! – Independent Review

TWISTED

K.A. BETTES

TABLE OF CONTENTS

About Twisted / Preface / Meat Market / Romance / Quiet / Fever / Poor Charlotte / A Whisper / Beautiful Life / A Souvenir / Bitten / A Hard Lesson Learned / Paulie Loves Peanuts / The Man and the Monster / Freckle Face / The Bend / A Shot in the Dark / Boys / Guest / Ready or Not / Under the Mimosa / Grizzled / Snow and Ash / The Lure / Judgmental / Grim Ends / Hot Date / Flicker / About the Author / Bibliography / Copyright

PREFACE

There are a couple of stories in this collection that I’ve been told are a bit too much. I was advised to change them, make them softer. But I didn’t. Here’s why.

I’m a horror writer. I write horror. What is horror? Horror is a genre of literature which is intended to, or has the capacity to frighten its readers, scare or startle readers by inducing feelings of horror and/or terror. It creates an eerie and frightening atmosphere.

To me, there is nothing more terrifying or horrifying than things that could—and do—happen. Sure, creepy knife-fingered hockey mask-wearing villains who can’t be killed are scary, but they’re fake. Nothing is scarier than what’s real. And in real life, the things that happen are not to be softened. Sadly, children are murdered. Elderly women are raped. Women are butchered. These things really happen at the hands of people we would never suspect capable of such atrocious acts. Your neighbor may have a basement full of bodies. Your cousin may be a serial killer. Your grandma’s friend may have poisoned her husband. You just never know.

And that, friends, is the scariest thing of all. That’s horror. That’s what I write about. And that’s the kind of thing you’ll find in this collection.

Now that you’ve been warned, I’ll let you get to reading. After all, that’s why you came here, isn’t it? To be terrified?

Kim

November 2012

MEAT MARKET

Hey, Paul. It’s Jeff. I have a delivery for you. I sat in the squeaky chair at the metal desk and waited for his response to come from the other end of the line.

That’s great! I’ve been waiting forever, he exclaimed too loudly into the phone, causing me to pull the earpiece away a bit.

Oh, come on. It hasn’t been that long, has it?

It’s been about a month, but it feels longer though. I’ll be there in an hour.

I agreed with him that it did feel longer, but things had slowed down a lot over the last few months.

An hour later, I heard a familiar thumping on the back door. Deliveries came in through the front, but pickups were always taken out the back door, which led to the alley.

I walked to the door, my open white coat flapping as I went. As soon as I opened it, Paul came rushing in.

Geez. Watch it, I said. You knock down a fat man, it takes a team to get him up again.

Sorry. I’m just eager to get this home and start cooking it.

Am I invited to dinner?

Always.

Good. It’s over here, I said.

We walked over to the table, and I opened the bag.

Paul smiled. That’s going to be some good eating, he said.

Sure is.

Paul picked up the meat, leaving the bag as he always did.

I opened the door and walked with him to his car. Once he had the meat in the trunk, I reached in and removed the tag, putting it in my pocket as he closed the trunk and turned to me.

I’ll call with a dinner time.

Great. I can’t wait.

He got in his car and left, and I walked back inside to the sound of a ringing phone.

As I crumpled the tag and tossed it into the trashcan, I answered the phone.

City morgue.

ROMANCE

I made love to her as the others watched, undoubtedly jealous. They’d had their turns. Not today, but I’d been with each of them many times before. And I’d be with each of them many more times. Just not today. Today was all about the new girl.

I didn’t know any of their real names, so I’d given them each a name I liked. I called the new girl Jessica.

Sure, I had my favorites. Like Mary. She was my first. I still made love to her because she was special to me, but I didn’t like the way she smelled.

Then there was Brenda. She had very large breasts. I still enjoyed being with her even though her breasts weren’t as firm as they used to be.

And Janet, with her perfect body, which had held up very well over time.

My least favorite was Annette. She was really wasting away, and wasn’t much more than skin and bones these days. I’d told her many times that if she didn’t stop letting herself go, I’d have to replace her. So far, she hadn’t listened.

I tried to give them all equal attention. I didn’t want the girls to be jealous of each other. But it still happened sometimes. I could tell.

I loved them all. They were special to me. Not just sexually. They were great companions. Great listeners, I could tell them anything. And they always made me feel better. No matter how bad my day was, as soon as I saw them, it was better.

They also made me feel good about myself. I wasn’t an ugly, stuttering, clumsy idiot when I was with them. I was handsome and graceful. They loved me for who I was and brought out the best in me.

I kissed Jessica’s mouth as I finished making love to her. She didn’t kiss me back, but that was okay. She didn’t have to. I knew she loved me.

I dressed myself before helping Jessica with her clothes.

I hated this part. It was time for me to go home. It was hard to say goodbye. Though I came every day to see them, it never got any easier to leave.

I helped all the girls get back in their beds, making sure each one was tucked in nicely.

Before I left, I checked each girl to make sure nothing was out of place. Everything was fine. They were each completely covered, totally invisible to anyone but me.

After all, I couldn’t have some hiker stumbling onto their beautiful bodies, nestled in the leaves.

QUIET

Daddy, remember when we went to the zoo?

Yes, Miranda.

Remember the monkeys?

Yes, Miranda.

I like the monkeys. And the elephants. Remember the elephants, Daddy?

Yes.

When can we go again?

I don’t know.

Soon? Can we go soon? I can’t wait to go again. Can you, Daddy?

I look at Miranda and rub my throbbing temples. To avoid an even worse headache, I need some quiet. But I can’t even remember the last time it was quiet in this house.

Can we go tomorrow, Daddy?

No, Miranda.

I watch as she makes that face, the one where she pokes out her lower lip and wrinkles her nose. It’s the face she makes right before she starts wailing, which is what she always does when she doesn’t get her way. I blame her mother, and if she was here right now, I’d slap her in the face for turning our little girl into the whiny chatterbox that she is.

But why, Daddy? she asks in a high voice, lower lip pushed out in a pout.

To shut her up, I say, I’ll think about it. But right now, you’re going to take a bath, and then you can have some ice cream before bed.

That stops the tantrum before it starts. Miranda loves ice cream.

Let’s go get ready, I say.

She goes to her bedroom to pick out her pajamas, singing and squealing with delight at the thought of ice cream and the possibility of going to the zoo again.

I go to the bathroom and start drawing a bath.

She keeps singing, and my forehead begins to throb. In my mind, I will her to be quiet, but she continues to giggle and sing. I even hear her talking, though we’re the only people in the house.

When the water is near the top of the tub, I call to her, and she comes running and squealing. I cover my ears, trying to block out the abrasive sounds.

I watch as she undresses and carefully steps into the tub, doll clutched tightly in one hand. While she talks to the doll, splashes the water, and of course giggles, I look on, praying for silence. As is often her way, she lets loose with a high-pitched squeal, causing screaming echoes to bounce around the shower walls, driving nails into my brain.

My head pounds fiercely, begging for quiet.

From where I sit on the toilet lid, I lean toward Miranda.

You ready? I ask her.

Ready, Daddy, she says, and giggles.

I put a hand on each side of her head, stroking her hair, and then slowly move my hands down her little neck.

What are you doing, Daddy? she asks, this time without giggling.

Hush, I tell her. Even saying that one word makes the pressure inside my skull swell.

With a hand on each of her shoulders, I push her backward until she is lying down, her head above the water.

Daddy—

Hush, Miranda, I whisper as I push her shoulders down until they touch the bottom of the bathtub, pulling her head underwater.

She tries to resist, but it’s no use. I’m far too big and she’s much too little.

I hold her there for two minutes, to make sure. When I let go, she floats.

And there it is.

Quiet.

FEVER

It is so damn hot. Why is it so hot in here? I’m just lying here in bed, sweating. I’ve already taken off the shorts and t-shirt I normally sleep in, and now I’m just wearing my boxers and my undershirt. I’m even sweating through that.

I just can’t take it. I sit up and pull off the undershirt, which is drenched in my sweat. I toss it to the floor, where I swear I can hear it sizzle. I consider taking off my boxers, but decide to try and tough it out with them on, as sleeping in the nude makes me feel vulnerable. As I lie back down, I feel the wet bed sheet, the wet mattress beneath me. I’ve never sweated this much.

It wasn’t hot at all when I came to bed earlier. It was very comfortable, though I had a bit of a chill. This damn cold probably turned into a sinus infection and gave me a fever. That would explain the sweating. Although, I’ve had fevers before and never sweated like this. Besides, if I have a fever, shouldn’t I be cold? Isn’t that what fevers do; make you cold and sweaty?

Trying to ignore the heat, I close my eyes, and try to find sleep. But it’s too hot to sleep. It’s too damn hot to do anything.

There’s a ruckus going on in the apartment below me. That’s unusual because the people that live there are nice people. I’ve met them many times, and they’re always so kind and helpful. I can’t make out anything that’s being said, but I definitely hear shouts. And a lot of noise.

Maybe I should get dressed and go down there. Maybe they need help. But I don’t feel good because of this damn cold, and now it’s so hot, I feel as though my skin is melting off the bones. I guess I’ll just stay here for a while and see what happens.

Are those sirens? They’re getting closer. Maybe someone already called for help for the people below me. Probably a domestic disturbance.

An urge sweeps over me, and I lurch into a coughing fit. I can’t seem to stop, and it’s becoming difficult to breathe now. Maybe I should call 911. What if this isn’t a cold at all, but something serious? That’s it. As soon as I stop coughing, I’m getting up and calling for an ambulance.

I haven’t had a cough all week with this cold, and now I’m coughing uncontrollably. This is ridiculous.

Now I hear a man shouting. I can’t answer him because of the coughing, and I’m not sure I would’ve answered him anyway. Why is he in my apartment? Who is he?

He must’ve heard the coughing and followed the sound because when he spoke this time, he was standing beside the bed, though his voice was still muffled.

Sir, can you hear me?

Still coughing, I nod.

You need to come with me. Now. Hurry.

Why? I ask through coughs.

This building is on fire. Didn’t you smell the smoke?

Nose is stuffed up from a cold, I manage.

Come on. We’ve got to get out of here now.

I sit up and reach for my cane, my bare feet burning from the heat of the floor.

Sir, are you blind?

I nod, still coughing.

He grabs my elbow and helps me stand.

I’m with the Fire Department. I’m going to carry you out of here, okay?

I nod again, still unable to speak because of the coughing. As he picks me up and carries me into the fresh air outside, I am thankful for the coughing spell to end, and for the man who saved my life.

POOR CHARLOTTE

As I drove the shovel into the dark, damp earth, I heard her yell, Stop!

I looked up and watched as she ran across the yard, skirt swishing around her legs. She ran