The Sand in Between my Toes: Part 3

The final part, a long road to get here. Thank you for reading! I wonder what people will make of this. Look forward to my next short story! Out soon!

9^th September 2001.

I woke up with a thundering in my head. A raging beat of drums slamming against the inside of my skull, hammering themselves out until the white bone hatched like an egg. Whatever was in wanted out, to break free from its yolk-like chains and flutter far far away. But we’re in the dark, there’s nowhere to fly.

Earth. Earth and damp. And concrete. The sickly-sweet scent of alcohol furrows itself into one nostril, the dull bluntness of copper into the other. My wrists were wrapped so tightly in fabric that they burnt with each movement, my entire weight upon them, tearing open the skin, my veins bulging against the leather like maggots. I didn’t know what direction I was, I was swinging, left to right, forward and backwards, constantly. My whole body was uncomfortable, it pained me to breathe. My back and chest were on fire, my hamstrings tugging themselves away from the tendons and off the bone. Mum, where am I? Mum?

I can’t feel you down here, I realise. I can’t feel you here. I could feel you all over this town but not here. I’ve gone the wrong way, where am I?

My ankles were getting shredded. Somehow, I summoned the strength to move my head closer to my chest. The veterbrae at the top of my spine seemed to snap, crackle, pop. Heh, I’ve become a rice Krispie. Where am I?

I’m in a cavern – no – a cellar, a cellar. A corridor, a tunnel. Dim light shines far behind me but I see it shrink in between my feet. I’m strung up like a pig, my feet and ankles tied to some metal bar. And carrying it with his thick grimy fingers…oh god…it’s him, isn’t it Mum? I can’t hear you, but I know you’d say yes. It’s him. This ogre, this beast, this monster. He’s the darkness, he took you from me.

The scream rattled through my vocal cords but was muffled by the thick gag in my mouth. It’s spongy-coppery taste made me sick, but as I was looking up at the landlord I could only assume that I was upside down…and choking on my own vomit this early won’t help anything.

I wanted to freeze. To cry and let it happen. To let him destroy me. Instead I wailed and a I jostled, shaking and pulling on the straps as hard as I could. Is this how you were, Mum? Did you scream? I know you fought, you must have done, so full of life. You wouldn’t let go that easily. I’m sure of it. So, I fought, Mum, just like you did. For once, I finally think we have something in common.

But he was too strong, too big, too hairy and odious. He made me nauseous, my intestines themselves squirming away from his dirty touch. The darkness, the hate, the perversion, it comes from him – it comes from men like him. I swear I’ll kill him, Mum, I’ll make him hurt, I’ll make him gone. No more violence, none of this anymore, it ends today.

Without looking, he sees me wriggling. With one shrug of his shoulder, he jolts my body against the bar, sending my heart slamming between my back and my chest. With one little uncaring movement, he silenced me. With just a shrug of his shoulders.

Each lumbering step he let off heavier and heavier breathes, sucking whatever air was in the room up-out-into him. There was no ventilation, only this thick musk weighing everything down. How can it be humid and cold at the same time? Sweat was pouring off of me, pooling on the floor, and leaving a series of puddles behind us. Maybe if I’m lucky, someone will follow them straight to the gingerbread house. Maybe they’ll do better than I did. Maybe.

I felt like the most painful pendulum in the world, every swing cracking another joint and rising bile in my throat. I bit harder into the gag but it was sodden with something that made me lightheaded. Chloroform? It tasted like coppery. Blood, it could be blood. If it was blood, I prayed it was my own

Everything ached, everything hurt. I was just luggage to him, meant to be carried off I don’t know where. The tiredness, the ache, the dullness in my bones is sapping all the life out of me. It's so hard not to go limp, but if I go limp then I think I’ll wrench my forearms out of their socket. My stomach abdominal muscles were tearing themselves apart.

Where are we going? Just in this straight line. Down this tunnel with no light at the end. It’s fruitless, there’s nothing there. Nothing there but the dark.

He lowered me slightly, my back starting to drag along the floor. Hissing in breath, I tried to lift myself upwards to stop my skin being scraped off. My lungs were on fire. There was nothing but pain.

But as we reached the end of the corridor, I found some respite. He clunked me down onto the floor, my back collapsing on the damp stone surface.

I inhaled through my nostrils angrily, my eyes darting around the fat man’s form. He slid the bar out from under my bound wrists, allowing me to curl into a fetal position as I huffed through the pain.

He moved his large worn hand toward me, quickly, I thrashed both my legs – kicking outwards and back trying to defend myself. I screamed as loud as I could through the gag, making a muffled wail as I kicked back and forth.

With one swoop of his left arm he quickly ensnared my ankles in his own grip, tugging me forward with a snarl, my weight nowhere near his strength. He glared down at me like a huffing bull, the darkness of the room hiding his visage apart from the vague outline of his round head and the shine of his beady eyes. Pulling me towards the wall, I spotted the other occupant of this room.

The receptionist! I didn’t know her name, but I knew those scars. Littered all over her body like cave paintings. Her eyes were wide with terror, wearing nothing but her underwear. She must have been frozen. Is this how he had you, Mum? Naked and terrified. Reduced down to your barest self. This is what he did to women. Broke them down to their weakest, ruining them. Before…before doing the worst things he possibly could do. He’s evil, he’s evil and I’m going to kill him.

I felt the irritation in my eyes as they glared at him so hard they must have bulged out my head. They were bloodshot and watery. I’m not going to let him see me cry. You wouldn’t have cried would you, Mum? The thought of this freak, this aberration, watching you cry fills me with so much rage I forget how hurt I am. I feel no pain, only hate. Hate and disgust. I have to kill the fucker.

My mum, my mum, my beautiful mum. Did you die down here in the damp and the dark? Mum, please. Please tell me you fought back. That you crawled out of the dirt and let out one last exhale. Please tell me that you got to see the light one last time.

There’s no light down here, only him, only him and that sickening buzzing sound. Flies, flies, flies wherever he goes. I can feel it drilling into me. His sickness emanating down these tunnels.

He looped a thick leathery rope underneath my bonds, tying me to the opposite side of the wall where the receptionist was tied to. She whimpered and moaned under her gag, her eye sockets so red that it was clear she had cried until she no longer could. The pain he had inflicted, the murders he’s committed. I swear I’m going to kill him.

The landlord fidgeted, his wide back to us as he muttered to himself. The room was small, cramped, yet a lot of space for him to stand up tall. We were underground, I could see a ladder leading up to a panel in the ceiling. His fingers kept fiddling with themselves. Was he nervous? Distracted? I couldn’t tell.

He spoke first, a low grumbling sound. Did you know her then? Sandra? Sandy?

I muffled something through the gag, letting my body slump as I stared holes into the back of his head.

You must have been young then? Or maybe you’re older than you look. He mumbled. But then I don’t even know what you look like you fucking shemale. What are you?

He turned round, his eyes falling onto me with curiosity. He took several long, slow steps towards me. I tried not to recoil as his dirt-covered sausage fingers curled under my nose, pulling my gag out.

Taking one long, deep inhale, I paused before speaking. I’m the person who’s going to fucking kill you.

His face muddied itself momentarily, a mixture of anger and confusion, before breaking into grinning laughter. Throwing his head back, he chortled and boomed with glee.

You fucking what? You limp-wristed little cunt. He spluttered in amusement. Now why the fuck would you do that?

You killed my mother. I spat back, making sure spittle landed on his front. You killed my mother, and I’m guessing you killed other girls, too. I jerked my hand in the receptionist’s direction. I’m guessing you’ve killed a lot of fucking people.

Maybe, maybe I have. He said, his eyes glazing over and looking away. Or maybe I’ve just treated myself to a bit of fun.

His last few words trailed off, as if he were already losing interest. Whatever sick twisted mind he had, scurrying off to some far-off place.

Fun? You think killing her – no - ruining me? Denying me my childhood was fun? Just fun for you? I felt the bile rise in my throat. This is fun for you?

No, not for me. He seemed to lose his train of thought. Not for me, no…I’m not sure where I was going with that. His thick finger rubbed his head. I mean, I just…there’s no point to them is all.

No point? To what? I asked, shaking my head, the conversation disorientating me.

To them, to fuckers like that. He gestured with his hands wide, grabbing at air.

Fuckers like what! I shrieked. Fuckers like what?

Now be quiet you. He thrust out a shushing finger. There might be a council meeting on.

A what? I said slack-jawed. His thuggishness, his stupidity in the way he treated everything. Is my captor a fucking retard?

They meet above, y’know. He said with a finger to his lips. We’re under the storage bit but sound still travels, not the thickest of floors.

You fucking cunt. I hissed. You’re such a coward, you’re scared of getting caught? You cockroach.

I’m not scared of shit, he protested, embarrassment tinging his voice. That buzzing sound rattled behind his every word.

You’re fucking pathetic, I spat, you are, you are. I heard the laugh escape my lips before I felt it. You’re a fucking loser!

Shut it! He roared, grabbing me by the throat. My back cracked against the hard wall as his tiny eyes bulged into me.

And you’re the one calling me a faggot? I laughed, I couldn’t stop myself. Is that why you killed her?

Her? He growled, as if her memory tugged at whatever soul he had left. No, there was no soul, only a snivelling little boy.

I bet she laughed at you. Did she not let her fuck you? I pouted. Is that why you did what you did? I bet she couldn’t even feel you inside of her, I bet it was just your fatness crushing her that did it.

His grunting grew deeper, more aggressive. His grip tightened against my throat as I felt air being squeezed out of me. But my expression didn’t change, I was still looking at a coward. I couldn’t speak but my look said everything. He was looking at me and seeing his own shortcomings.

My vision blurred until I felt myself slide down the wall, the vice around my neck loosening until air quickly found its way in. I tried not to gasp it down, tried to seem strong. For her, for the receptionist, for all the women he’s throttled and destroyed in this cold tomb.

Why’d you do it? I choked, why’d you do it? C’mon, tell us. Tell us why you killed my mum. I gestured with my hand to the whimpering girl next to me. Tell us why you took down everyone who was better than you.

Better than me? What are you on about? He turned his back, hiding his face in the shadows. It’s not about that, I don’t think about that shite.

I bet you do, I retorted. I bet you really fucking do. Its why you talk shit to Mick, why you treat him like shit when he’s such a nice bloke. You can’t stand a black man being a better man than you. You can’t stand a woman being happier than you. Am I right? I think I’m getting warmer, aren’t I?

I don’t think about that shite, I don’t think about that. He grumbled. Mick’s just some cunt that does what I say, it’s all he’s good for.

And you lord that over him everyday. My voice grew louder, he couldn’t escape it. You love that sense of superiority, it’s the only reason you haven’t killed yourself yet, isn’t it?

He glowered down at the floor, clearly I was hitting a nerve.

I’m right, aren’t I? I asked. Do you think about it? How disgusting and pathetic you are?

I was taunting him, taunting him like they taunted me. It hurts, doesn’t it? To be on the receiving end of your own venom.

He bristled, his shoulders moving as he seemed to struggle with what I was saying. Telling him who he was.

I bet you do, I said barely above a whisper. I bet you think about it every goddamn day. I bet it scratches at you on the inside, gnawing at you. Knowing you’ll never have what other people have. You’ll always be on your own little island of loserdom.

His hand reached for something down below, before I could see, he was up against me again. This time with a jagged knife against my throat.

Do you want to know something? He said with a voice so monotone I thought he was dead. This is what I killed her with. I put this inside of her and cut her up. I’m going to put it inside of you, too.

My back straightened, I felt my bonds loosen. I wasn’t alone in this, me and Mum were becoming closer and closer everyday. I was here with you Mum, now you’re here with me.

I spent years, I spoke with a muffled sob, years wanting to kill you. To do to you what you did to me. But you’re nothing. You’re a broken little toy. Your disease, it’s an infection, you’ve spread yourself all over and polluted everything good. Everything people care about, and for what? For more of you?

I don’t know what you mean, he replied, his voice quiet now. I don’t know what the fuck you’re saying, I just hear this stupid fucking buzzing every time you talk.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry you do. I spoke. But I don’t care. You took all is good from me. I felt the burning sensation inside of me, it was scalding the inside of my throat. You did all this bad and for what?

Because I could. His voice cracked with every-other syllable, he was nothing, he was just this poor nothing. Because I didn’t like them happy. I liked them sad. I liked them hurt.

Like you? I asked. Hurt like you? You want them twisted up and broken down?

I don’t know anymore, he buzzed, his voice quaking. I don’t know. I just feel it within me and it needs to be let out.

And with that he plunged the knife in between my breast. I looked deep into his eyes as he penetrated me, and I penetrated him back.

My hand caressed his cheek as his visage grew clearer, illuminated from the light shining within me. Your light Mum, it’s your light. His face changed as he grew fearful. He was scared of you. He was scared of the glow inside you, and now I was shining it bright upon him.

I stood up, letting the knife dig into me deeper as he stumble backwards, onto bended knee. He looked so much smaller from above. And I let him burn.

The buzzing and the thrashing reached fever pitch, it rattled all over the place as the cavern shook. The landlord imprisoned, paralyzed by the darkness and the light. Ensnarled in the thorned vibes of punishment.

I could feel myself floating, I needed to save the girl. I needed the receptionist to get to safety. There she was, curled up in fear. In pain. But I reached out – my Mum reached out – an outstretched hand of comfort. Embroiled in the message; it’s all going to be okay.

The damp dark rumbled and rattled as we burst free, twin pillars of light blasting through the ceiling, through the hall, a swirling rageful firestorm all around us. And I knew, I knew, that this would be the end of it all. My sight was blinded by the light, as I rose up on into the sky, towards you Mum. Towards you.

And then the waves pulled back and forth, gentle and serene. The sea was a startling clear blue, the sky almost a reflection of the ocean as the horizon seemed to merge off into the distance. I was on the beach once more. Sat with my knees up to my chest, my toes cleansed by the soft sway of the tide.

“Did you figure it out yet?” The bald man asked, surpressing a smile as he dug his hands into his pockets, his chest puffed out. I could see his tie flap gently in the wind.

“Did I kill him?” I replied, with a question, “Is it over?”

“You didn’t kill anyone.” The man almost recoiled, baffled. “That’s not the point, that’s not anything.”

“But wasn’t the point getting rid of that sickness? Vanquishing evil?” I muttered, unsure.

“You did do all that, yes,” He nodded, as if wanting me to work out the answer. “But its how you did it, that’s what matters.”

I thought for a moment. I thought about my Mum. I thought about how she was no longer this victim, this dead awful thing. How she was this beacon of love, this symbol of joy, and how she’d always be that to me.

“I see now, in a way.” I mumbled, slowly, watching my reflection shimmer in the surf.

“I was hoping you would.” He held an arm out by his side, “Now, we must get going.”

“We? Am I coming with you?” I asked, almost excited.

“Oh no, no. You have too much living to do.” The man answered, “I was referring to Sandy, of course. It’s been an age since we’ve had the opportunity to be reunited.”

I looked over my shoulder, and saw her. Saw Mum, walk towards the man. I could finally see her face in my mind, and I knew it’d never leave me. She was silent, she said no words. But her beaming smile told me everything I needed it to. The two joined arms, aglow with shimmering radiance.

I looked at them as they turned away, feeling the temptation to follow…before realising that wasn’t for me, anymore.

My own lips curled into a grin of their own, as the man looked over his shoulder and I realised finally who he was. I always knew Mum wanted to be reunited with her father.

10^th September 2001.

I was awake, lying on the bed and wrapped in comfort. The room looked nicer, more cared for. The sink was cleaner, the air fresher.

I stood up to get dressed, catching my reflection in the mirror, I no longer saw that battle within anymore. I was the perfect sum of all that was inside of me. I was me, him, and her. All at once.

Gathering together my stuff, I knew it was time to bid goodbye. I needed to get back to the real world, to get back to living. Pulling on my orange windbreaker, I beamed a nicely shaped smile as I applied the last of my eyeshadow.

Carrying my bag of disguises over one shoulder, I hopped down the carpeted-stairs down below. The surfaces were cleaner, more modern, the bartop sleek and well-made. What had I woken up to?

Mick was there, behind the bar, grinning that grin of his. His shoulders seemed less slumped, his face less worn by the years. I got the feeling that he didn’t need to cry anymore.

Looking at me, his eyes flicked upward. Hello, love! You off?

Finally, I said back. I think it’s time for me to go home.

Understandable, understandable. He nodded, slightly disappointed. But remember, you’re always welcome here. Always welcome with ol’ Mick.

I know that, Mick. I nodded. You won’t be seeing the last of me.

But just in case I do, he slid something over the new bar top, here’s that photo you asked for the other night. Feel like you’ll do better with it than I did.

I looked over at the photo of Mum and Mick at the bar, happy and gleeful. That’s how I wanted her to be, forever, and now I could have that evermore.

Thanks Mick, I nodded as I slipped into it my pocket, I’ll take good care.

I know you will, I know you will, he laughed. Or else you’d have me up after you! Be careful, I’m nice as a friend, but not so much as a landlord.

And with that, I walked out, past the empty reception desk and out into the town.

It was different. The air was crisper. The sky brighter. The people held themselves together more. I looked behind me to look at the inn, now emblazoned with a sign that looked as if it’d always been there; Mickey’s Bed and Breakfast.

Who would have thought? The evil, the hate, had moved on now. It’d be somewhere else, causing more pain and darkness. But, like a cockroach, it’d always be afraid of the light.

And it was time for me to join in on that light, so there I was, walking off into the sun. Mum and Granddad, always with me.