Burn, Baby, Burn by Michael Seale (Chapter 36)

 Chapter 36

The fire raged. He had fed her disembodied head into the furnace. Bill had cried. He took the other skulls out of the bag and displayed them proudly. His plan set. Bill would be the last for now. 

The old house was a tinderbox; it had taken little to convince it to burn. Bill’s will broken; he stared at Trish’s lifeless body. Mike hummed quietly as he worked to get everything into place. He removed Bill’s gag.

“So, are you ready?” he asked.

Bill stared numbly forwarded, his tears dried. 

“Come on, Bill. I thought you would see it by now. How I helped you.”

No response. 

“Suit yourself. I only wanted to help you. This is the only way to the light for you.” 

He tied Bill’s upper arm off and removed the bent and burnt silver spoon from the bag. It was Bill’s own spoon he kept hidden in the restaurant's bathroom where he would shoot up before service. The smell of the drugs filled the cellar room. Bill closed his eyes the moment they entered his system for him. It was a beautiful respite to the ordeal in front of him. 

As he lulled in his chair, the drugs charmed him, Mike finished his work. The skulls smiled down from the shelf above. He hated to leave them here, but he knew he had to. The stench of the kerosene he had poured over the floors and walls was choking. Mike bent to Bill’s drugged out body and kissed his forehead. He untied the bloody rope that held his wrists and legs to the metal chair. Bill didn’t fight; the drugs had done their job. He slid the knife over Bill’s wrists, just as he had done to his father all those years ago. The blood rushed from his body and flooded the floor. He held Bill one last time.

“The truth is the light, and the light is the truth,” he said to him once more. Bill’s body collapsed to the floor over Trish’s legs. They were finally back together, Mike thought. 

He fueled the fire in the old Lennox furnace, stuffing it until it couldn’t hold anything else. Black smoke filled the cellar room, it wouldn’t take long, he had piled enough broken pieces of old wood, paper and ripped up cloth in front of it. The heap would ignite and set the room on fire. 

Dusk had just settled in when he exited the house. He made sure that he had taken with him everything that he had brought except his prize possessions. They sat once more in the light. 

Mike drove his car a good distance away and ambled back. He wanted to watch the show and what a show it would be. Giddy with anticipation. He could see the flames behind the dirty cellar windows. They licked the walls and the ceiling above. He knew it wouldn’t take long for the entire house to burn. He hoped that no one would drive by for a while. The house was nearly alone, the two other houses that were close by lay several hundred yards away and the view was blocked by two very large old maple trees. If no one came by now, the house would burn to the ground. 

I had waited what seemed like days; in boredom, mere minutes seem to creep along. But I finally had the sense that he was asleep. I made my way to the tunnel where the pinprick of light was visible; I had tried running to it before, but I never gained a step closer. Now I put to action the plan the old man and the boy had conceived. I would have to be strong, to be loving. I sang.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey, you’ll never know dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away.” 

I opened my eyes. The light was closer. I started again. “You are my sunshine…” repeatedly. The more I sang, the closer the light came. It was unbelievable, freeing feeling. Like a long known truth, finally accepted. I wanted to burst into tears as the light took. 

I bathed in the light; it held me. It felt as if I was a child being comforted by its mother. I wanted to stay there, my thought of staying right where I was held me. The light was the truth. It felt so good. All the pain that I had gone, all the problems I had held onto in that moment were nothing. This was pure happiness, how a baby feels at the sight of his mother, the contented happiness I had never known before. 

I knew that I had to push on. The light was the truth, but the truth is not the reality. I had to get back to the actual world. A world of hurt and problems. A world of fun and work. A world that I knew would never be the same for me, no matter what happened now.

The light left as I pushed forward. I found myself in the dark again. But now it was different, I was in my bed. I could feel the soft pillow beneath my head, the weight of the blanket on top of me. I was back. 

If the old man was right, the fight would start now. I had to prepare. He would try to come back, to push me back to the dark corner. He could not kill me, but he could hurt me. He could force me back into my mind, where I may never have the strength to get back out again.  I closed my eyes and prepared myself.

Kimber pounded on the door. She would not let him have the last word. She would tell him, what she thought about him and moving forward. She had finally gathered some courage and drove back to Mike’s place, and now she stood at his front door in the middle of the night, knocking as loud as she could.

“I know you’re there, Mike.” She yelled. “Open the door.”

She stopped banging for a second, hoping that a light would come on or the door would open or something would happen. Nothing did. 

“Come on, asshole, open the door.” 

***

Shit, fuck, what is she doing here, I thought. Not now. 

I didn’t dare move, let alone breathe. Maybe she would give up and go home. The pounding on my front door continued. Maybe not.

I didn’t know what to do. I only knew that I didn’t want her to be here when he came back to fight. I had no idea how that was going to be. 

***

“Come on, douche bag. Open up,” Kimber yelled again.

She had resolved that she would not leave until she gave him a piece of her mind. The palm on her right hand hurt from banging on the door. She thought she heard something behind the door and stopped banging. A shuffling sound. A light came on behind the door. The eye hole lit up and then went black. What the hell, she thought, he knows it’s me. Why is he checking?

She threw her hands up in the air, gesturing to him to open the door. 

***

“Hey, look,” I said through the small crack in the door. “Can we do this another time? It’s not so good, right now.” I held my hands behind my back, they were black with soot. I reeked like a bonfire. My clothes stained; apparently my other half decides that cleanliness is unnecessary. 

*** 

I could feel him coming. It was a force, like a blinding headache. It felt as if my face was being turned inside out. I pushed back. The darkness came, the light fading. He was strong, stronger than I could imagine. How could it be that I have so much hate and anger in me? 

***

Before me stood a copy of myself, in most ways, but in others it was a different person. His eyes were black, his hair a mess, he wore the same as I did. Words from the outside echoed in the world that we moved. We were no longer in the actual world; we were trapped together in our mind. I say our, because I realized at that moment, that this person in front of me, was me. He was a part of me, a part that I had hidden, something that I didn’t want to admit too, but a part of me, nonetheless. 

His smile crooked, it looked as if part of his face was paralyzed, and one side was up, causing a small dimple in his left the cheek and partially closing his eye on that side. The other barely moved, causing a lopsided grin. He didn’t fight with me. He just stared at me as if he could see through me.

“You’ve sinned, haven’t you?” my father’s voice boomed. I looked at him. He didn’t move, just his stupid lopsided smile and one half-closed eye stared back. The image of my bastard dad appeared.

“You looked at her.” The voice yelled. “Tell me the truth, goddamit.” My father stood before me. He was unbuckling his brown leather belt. “Tell me the goddamn truth, you little shit.” 

My body trembled at the sight of him.

“I didn’t… I promise.” I heard myself saying.

“You stupid sack of shit, you think I’m blind. I know that you were lusting after her. The Good Book says thou shall not lust.” He swung the belt in an arch with his right hand over his head. It cracked down over my right shoulder and whipped my back. The pain was intense. My ten-year-old body shook with fear. 

“Please… daddy… don’t,” I whimpered.

“Tell me, did your little prick get hard the second you saw her? Did you cum in your pants looking at your own mother?” The belt flew again, hitting my chin and neck. I fell over. 

“Daddy, please…” I cried, I didn’t want to, but I did.

“Fucking tell me.” He hit me over and over with the belt. My lip busted and bled. 

There she was. She lay on their bed. Her face swollen, her nose crooked and covered in blood. He had ripped her shirt off of her; her bare chest covered in welts. “Go on, have a good look at her.” He said.

She was crying; I stared at her face; I didn’t dare look anywhere else. 

“I’m sorry, momma.” I said.

He pushed me forward. “Do it. Just like you wanted to before. Do it now.” He yelled. 

I looked at him;shaking my head no. My mother trembled and cried on the bed.  

“Leave him alone, he is your son.” She yelled at him.

The brass buckle cracked into the side of her head. She screamed in pain. Tears rolled down my cheeks. 

“I said keep your mouth shut.”

She whimpered on the bed, her hand held her bleeding head. His enormous hands shoved me toward the bed again; I tripped and grabbed at the flower covered comforter that she laid on. 

“Do it, you little shit. Your little tiny dick, wants to fuck her. So do it.”

“I… I… no… no… please.” He hit me with his fist on the side of my head. “I said fuck her, you shit.” 

“Come here, baby,” my mother called, “it will be alright.”

She pulled me up to her on the bed. She was crying, her face and head bloodied. 

“Momma, I don’t want too.” 

“Shhh… I know…” 

She placed my hand on her breast and moved it back and forth. I cried. My father watched as my mother placed her hands in places they were never meant to be. She kissed me, like I had seen old people kiss in the movies. Her tongue tasted like blood. She pushed her breasts towards my face. 

***

“Mike, what’s going on?” Kimber asked. Mike had collapsed shortly after he opened the door. He was talking and shaking, his lip was bleeding and he acted as if he was being hit by some unseen person. 

“Mike, please.” She searched for the phone, hoping to call for an ambulance. It lay in ruins against the wall. The case cracked and wires falling to the floor. She held Mike in her arms, cradling his head, as tears rolled down his cheeks. “No momma” was all he would say. 

Mike lay quietly in her arms for some time. She stroked his hair. Her anger gone. She realized that he was dealing with something bigger than her. His eyes would twitch; like he was dreaming and his mumblings were incoherent. She sat on the floor of his apartment, hoping that he would wake up.

***

He knew that he couldn’t hold the other in this state for much longer; it was draining his strength. This memory was perhaps the most painful one that he could recall. It was here that he was born. As if ripped from Mike’s own soul, the pieces shattered on the floor, each one another part of him. Able to think and live and be. They all created their own lives within him. He had been the strongest; he had the most of Mike; he sucked his power from Mike himself, feeding off the hate and anger of an abused adolescent. The old man was the understanding and wisdom, he would be the only one that could stand against him. But as always, the hate controlled him as well. The others were content with being the parts they were at that moment. 

***

Kimber cried for the man she held. She had fallen for him. Perhaps it was love, perhaps not. She had known that she wanted to find out. His ramblings had grown quiet, but his eyes twitched and his breathing was heavy. She spoke to him and begged him to wake up.

“Mike, I know you are there… please come back.”

There was no response, just the heaving of his chest. She closed her eyes as the wet tears traversed down her cheeks. They puddled at her chin and dripped on his forehead. A tiny voice sang a lullaby she knew.

“Mike? Mike?” But it wasn’t his voice. It was that of a child’s. It sang: You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…

Just those words over and over. Mike’s mouth moved, but the voice wasn’t his. 

She sang with him, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, both day and night, you never know dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away.”

Mike stirred. She continued to sing. It was as if he was being brought back.

***

The voice, I could hear a beautiful voice, one that didn’t belong to the scene in front of me. It pulled me back, back out of the small boy’s body that intertwined with his own mother’s. My father watched, touching himself as his own son pleasure his mother. As my mind separated from the boy’s my father looked at me and in that instance his face pained, his eyes changed. He was no longer the father that had beaten and humiliated me. He was the other me. The other I had to fight.

“You have no right, to these memories.” I yelled. “They are mine, not yours.” No matter how painful reliving that was, I knew that I had to own to it. I felt that was the only way to break the control that he had. 

The scene disappeared before me. Darkness engulfed the light. The black cold void filled my vision. I could still hear the beautiful voice. It guided me to the pinprick of light. I sang with it. The light grew and grew. Finally, I opened my eyes, and she was there, singing.

 ***

Kimber stroked his sweat soaked hair; it was as if he had had a fitful dream. 

“Mike? Are you here?” she said.

She cradled him, knowing that with all the problems and with all the craziness that is going on between them, she loved him. She wanted nothing more than to hold him and take care of him. To help figure out why he is passing out and having these crazy hallucinations. Her anger had melted away in its place was undeniable love.

“Mike, I love you.” She whispered. She wasn’t sure that he could hear her. It didn’t matter, she said, and she meant it. She kissed his fevered forehead and stroked his hair.

***

I can feel it for the first time in years. My heart opening to someone. It wasn’t lust or an infatuation, its love. I stared up at her, my sunshine, my fever like state covered the world in a soft haze, but I know she is there. I’ll just close in my eyes again, I’m so exhausted. 

“Are you here?” she asked.

“Where did you think I’d go?” I asked her.

“Oh, Mike, are you there? Are you okay?” she kissed my face.

“I’m here, but go. You can’t stay here.” I slowly sat up, my head spun.

“What? Why? You are not okay, you need a doctor.”

“No, Kimber, you are in danger. Leave, now.” 

“I don’t understand, please tell me.”

My eyes teared up. I didn’t want to cry. The hot tears streamed down my face. “Please, Kimber, leave.”

I could feel his presence, he was coming. He was rage; he was hate. I could feel devouring the love that had just filled my heart. It was an inkiness blackness that spilled over, poisoning my inner self. 

“I’m scared.” I said. I truly was. I didn’t know if I could stop him or how.

“Tell me, why, why are you scared? What’s going on?”

I couldn’t, it was too much. Too much for me to bear. How could she? What was he capable of? I had no idea. What had he done? I could feel him still. I could see the images he played before me. My mother naked on her bed, my father watching, his heavy breathing on my back. I had forgotten all of this, or perhaps I never lived it. Perhaps he had taken control at that moment. It scared me to know that I was not in control of my own life, that half of my own being had hidden itself from me, stolen my memories good or bad. They were mine to deal with, not his. The thought made me furious, knowing that it had stolen away my life.

She refused to leave my side. She held me for a long time as I cried. I cried because I was afraid, because I was angry, because I was lost. 

“We have to get off the floor, my legs hurt.”

I smiled at her “Okay, thank you.”

Kimber stood and stretched; she was a bit wobbly. She gripped my arm. I love the feel of her touching me. I kissed her. A long, hard kiss on her mouth. My hands wrapped around her, held her. She pulled away slowly and smiled. “We are feeling better. Aren’t we?” she smiled playfully.

 “It’s just… I’m in love with you.” I kissed her again, pulling her body close to mine.

“Mike, I don’t understand. You say you love me, just before you slammed the door in my face. I don’t get it.”

“I know, I’m a mess.” I was distraught. I wanted her so badly, the tightening in my pants showed that, but I want to protect her. 

***

He watched the scene from behind the other’s eyes; the fool thought that he could control him. He was directing the play now, just as he had done before at the restaurant the night that Mike burnt himself. He would have her now, he would send her to the light, he would make sure the other will defile her and then he will finish her. I will cleanse her of her sins and sent to the light. He cherished the thought, chuckling to himself. 

He could wait, it wouldn’t take long, he could smell her wetness. He knew she wanted him. 

***

I pulled her close to me again. Kissing her mouth, tasting her, our tongues danced together. Her body felt good pressed to mine. Why can’t I let her go? I thought. She needs to leave but as soon as these thoughts rushed into my mind they were gone again. My only focus was on her, on bedding her. Her arms wrapped around my neck. Her smile was radiant; she was here now with me. She wanted me just as bad as I wanted her. But she should leave? 

I kissed her neck. She moaned quietly. Her nails dug into my back. 

“You should leave,” I said as I kissed her.

“I can’t…” 

My hands slid under her shirt, searching for her breasts. They were small and perk. Her nipples hard and erect. My fingers found them, pinching slightly, teasing her. Our mouths searched for each other. 

“You have to… go…” I breathed. Her shirt slid over her head, her bra had been pushed up, pushing her breasts down. My mouth slid over them, her nipples between my teeth. The black lace bra fell to the floor. We pushed against the wall. She moaned as I nibbled at her chest. Her hands searching my body, she slid my shirt up over my head, getting stuck at my ears. 

“Ouch!” We both laughed. I took her by the hand and lead her to my bedroom. We kissed as we entered. She turned me around and pushed me onto the bed. She smiled. 

She kissed my chest, moving her hands down to my pants, rubbing my dick. I closed my eyes, an image of my mother flittered past. It confused me. 

She was on me before I knew it. Her flawless naked body wrapped around mine. We made love. It was love; it wasn’t lust or sex or fucking. It was genuine love. Our hearts had connected. Her body was soft and smooth, skin creamy white. It felt so good to touch her, taste her. It was like we were the only ones alive.

The images crashed in front of my eyes. The lights flicker and before me lay two scorched bodies, black and twisted, reaching towards me. Their clothes have melted, they are hairless and gruesome, and the only recognizable feature is the gleaming white of their teeth silently screaming for help. 

“Oh, god…” I gasp.

Naomi, Callie, Sam, Trish, Ollie, Bill and my father. My victims. No, not my victims, his. Ours. It’s clear now. He killed them. I killed them.

“No, god, no…” I begged. I could hear him. Kimber’s naked body lay undermine. 

***

Kimber’s breasts perked under his touch, he tasted of sweat and man. She loved the feel of his hairy chest; she followed the curves of his body. It was a perfect moment. Forget what happened before, she told herself, there is only now. She kissed him again.

“Oh, god…” he called out.

She smiled, knowing it was her pleasing him. She had waited so long for him. Her body ached for him, as did his for her. 

He thrust deeper inside of her, something changed. She thought. His blue eyes were nearly black. His hands reached for her, grabbing her roughly. 

“Mike…” she said.

He didn’t respond, he only pushed himself deeper into her. His left hand went to her mouth, first slowly around her lips; she thought he was just being playful before. He stared at her with blank eyes; he shoved his fingers into her mouth, nearly ripping the corners of her lips. She screamed in pain. He laughed, only his eyes were blank. His right hand wrapped around her neck and squeezed. He fucked her harder than before. She tried to fight. To push him away, but his weight was too much. She bit at his hand as hard as she could, drawing blood, but he didn’t flinch. The pain was nothing for him. He let go of her neck and balled his fist. He punched her in the face, repeatedly. Her nose broke; blood sprayed the bedsheets with a gush of red. Her cheek collapsed under the barrage of hits. 

He came into her. Yelled at her, beat her and raped her again. His eyes were black. 

***

Their bodies burnt beyond recognition. The skulls of the overs lay on blackened on the floor. Trish’s head was still in the oven, her charred bones lay on the floor in front of it. Bill’s form lay on the floor next to hers. The police, the firemen, had never seen such a gruesome sight. 

The autopsies had confirmed the identities of all of them. They never recovered the bodies of the others. The police believed that Bill had murdered them all and after taking Trish’s life; he ended his own. Of course they will never know for sure. Bill’s bones held little clues only that they were the only ones that were intact. The skulls that littered the floor and the fact that Trish’s headless body lay beneath him, lead them to the conclusion.

The press followed the story from start to finish. Award-winning chef preyed on women and murdered them, killing his cook and girlfriend in the may lay. They found drugs in his apartment, along with cash and a gun. They found no other clues; they found only fragments of the Ollie in the restaurant. Leading to damn Bill’s name even further. For it was his restaurant. The press speculated that he killed and cooked the women at his restaurant, serving them to his guests. They shuttered the windows and doors to the building. It outraged the public. Even the thought they might have eaten a person was too much for them to bear. 

For the police, the work was done. There was only one more missing woman that hadn’t been found but was presumed dead because of her association with Bill. Kimber Bethany Lawson. Her parents reported her missing shortly after the newspapers reported the fire and the murders. 

The police interviewed all of Bill’s employees, each came back more or less clean, perhaps a DUI or a small drug charge or shoplifting as a minor, but nothing else. No one had any information. No one knew a thing. They were shocked to find out that their beloved boss was not only a drug addict but a killer and rapist and cannibal. The search for Kimber Lawson was fruitless.

***

Weeks had passed. Mike had lost weight. He wasn’t sleeping, but maybe an hour at a time. His skin was sallow and pale. His normally bright blue eyes were black and lifeless. His clothes stank of sweat and rot. His teeth yellowed, he was no longer living. The other had taken over and was preparing for death, for his turn, for the light. He pained himself by cutting his arms, smiling as the warm blood was exposed again and again. 

In pain we bring ourselves to the light, in the light is truth. Kimber watched him. She was barely alive, chained to the bed, stinking of old cum and sweat. He had raped her more times than she could remember. Her body was no longer her own, it belonged to him now. He was her master; he was the bringer of life and of death. For that, she prayed for everyday. She prayed that he would kill her; begged him too. Wishing for death a way out of the miserable life, being tortured and raped, beaten and berated. She had nothing left. 

Mike sat next to her, toying with the knife in his hand.

“I could kill you, now, if I wanted too.”

She stared blankly at him, unable to reply. 

“Would you like if I killed you?”

Tears’ welling in her eyes, her body was weak. What little food he had given her had provided little nourishment. 

“We will go to the light together, we will be one with the light and then we will know the truth together.” 

Wet tears rolled down her cheeks as they had so often the last few weeks. She didn’t want to die, only escape this living hell, but if that meant dying then she was ready. 

Mike closed his eyes. The knife gleamed on his lap. Her own eyes clouded from her tears; she didn’t realize that he was sleeping. She silently wept, the gag choking her gasps for air. 

***

I hadn’t seen the light in, I don’t know how long now. I know what the other did. I have seen it all now. The murders, the rapes, the torture, things I never knew another person could do. Let alone myself. But I had done those things. Whoever was controlling me it didn’t matter it was me. It was my hate and rage, which destroyed so many. 

The pinprick of light grew brighter. I had seen nothing as beautiful; it was as if I was seeing the sunrise for the very first time. The colors of the world bloomed before me. I had sung the lullaby I don’t know how many times it never worked before. But now the light is swallowing me. Perhaps I’m dying, I thought. That would be the best if I was dead. I wished I would die because he would die with me. I could stop whatever it was he wanted to do. Perhaps I could save her, I thought, if she is not already dead. 

It is brightest before you reenter the body. The light cascades down from the heavens and blinds you for an instant as the moment arrives. It arrives with all the pain and emotions that were hidden just seconds before. It is a shock. 

“Kimber,” I whisper at the woman chained next to me. 

Her face swollen and hair had been ripped from her head. Her right eye swollen shut, her naked body shutters before me. Cuts and scrapes, blue, yellow and black bruises decorate her body. Her lips are cracked and broken; at least two of her teeth have been yanked out of her mouth. The woman I knew I loved gone. This was no longer her. He had taken her humanity and wasted it. He had taken what I had loved and who had loved me back and destroyed it. 

“Kimber, oh, Kimber, please…” she pulled away from me, wincing at my touch. 

“I’m here, it’s me.” I looked at her, begging her to see. 

She lit slightly, unsure what to believe. I undid her chains. I wrapped my arms around her, kissing her face. 

“I’m here, I’m here.” 

Her arms hung to her side, she didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. I knew what was coming.

***

The knife was heavy in her trembling hands. Blood was slow to seep out. Slower than what she had imagined it to be. It wasn’t hard to do killing someone. She thought. But it felt good to end it, the pain he had inflicted on her, the humiliation she had borne. This was nothing compared to that, she thought. 

He didn’t fight; he didn’t scream. He looked at her, the knife in his stomach. His blue eyes stared at her and he smiled. Blood seeped from the corners of his mouth. Mike’s eyes rolled back and he let out a breath. 

She scrambled out of the room, out of the house, her naked broken body dragging itself across the yard and into the street. Blood covered her hands. She wept. Tears of joy, tears of terror. 

The police sirens filled the air; the neighbors looked on in horror as Kimber lay naked on the street and laughs.