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"Skin" Part 5
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Posted by Logan the Lobotomizer on: 03:15 PM, 10/10/18
“W-where’s Grandpa?" I asked.

Tears rolled down my mothers tan skin as her pink lips quivered. “Grandpa is- Grandpa is...” Her body racked with sobs as she tried to get the words out.

“Grandpa is." She dropped to her knees, and she buried her hands into her face then  fell to her side. Dad  bent down next to her; he rested his hand on top of her shoulder.

“What about Nick? " I asked.

Dad looked at me, there was a look in his eyes I have never seen  before. “Dead.” 

I didn’t know how to feel and could hardly think straight. My eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds.
They shut. That acrid stench filled my nostrils again, my eyes opened, and I saw the horrible facsimile of John's face.The man took his cigarette and jammed it into my eye. I felt like my entire face was on fire. He pushed it deeper and deeper; twisting it as he laughed. My eyes snapped open and I sat straight up. I was drenched in sweat and noticed a dark splotch on my blanket. I spent a few days in the hospital and was released with a bandage wrapped around my hand and a bandage on my chest.

Mom pulled me into a tight bear hug and kissed me on the cheek. “We’re gonna go home. Dad, Grandma, and Stacey are waiting for us.”

“Okay.” I replied.

We got into her car, Mom pulled out of the driveway then pulled out into the road. “So, what happens now?” I asked.

Mom stifled a sob. “Well, I already made arrangements for the wake and funeral. The service will be in a few days."

I watched her in the rear view, tears rolled down her cheeks, her hand covered her mouth. She sniffed and swallowed trying to compose herself. We drove home in silence. A loud roar of thunder bellowed from the heavens, as rain smashed against the windows. We pulled into our driveway; green peeling paint covered the house, the lawn was overgrown and yellowed, a tree branch scraped against the roof of the car. She parked in front of the garage; packed with bobbleheads, movie posters, sports cards, and various other knick-knacks.

Mom sighed. "Your father needs to find another place for the stuff from the store I’m tired of not being able to park the car in the garage.”
She looked at the backseat and pursed her lips. “I forgot my umbrella; we’re gonna have to run  to avoid the rain, Tommy.” We rushed out of the car despite our best efforts to avoid the rain; we got soaked.

"You two look like you got out of the swimming pool." We heard Dad say, as we cleaned our feet on the welcome mat. He scratched his black beard that was so long it rested on his beer belly. He didn't even acknowledge my bandaged hand or chest.

Mom pointed her stubby little finger in Dad's face. “Bill you’ve got to do something about that garage, it's ridiculous that you have all that shit packed in there."

Dad's shoulders slacked exasperatedly. “There’s nowhere else to put it. There’s zero room at the store, that warehouse is as packed as it’s gonna get.”

Mom shook her head. “Figure it out Bill that crap isn’t gonna be in there much longer.”

“Whatever.” Dad said.

"When are thewy coming home?" I heard Stacey ask as I walked into the living room.

Stacey was sitting on the couch facing Grandma. Grandma noticed me and smiled. "Turn around."

Stacey turned, and her face lit up. She jumped off the couch and charged me with her arms wide open. Stacey wrapped her arms around me. “How’s your hawnd?”

“It’s… better.” I replied.

Grandma noticed the time on the clock on the wall, and she got off the couch. “Alright, everyone, I’m gonna be heading home now."

“Are you sure you want to be in the house alone?” Mom asked.

Grandma headed for the door. “Regardless of what has happened I want to be in my own house, my husband built that house, I spent most of my life in that house and nothing is going to drive me out."

"Okay, I understand." Mom said.

I felt pretty tired and wanted to lay down in my own bed. "I’m gonna go upstairs and lay down."

“Okay, I’ll call you down when it’s time for dinner, I'm making meatloaf.” Dad said.

I climbed the stairs and went into my bedroom. Laying down I let everything sink in. I knew nothing would be the same again. One of the most important people in my life had just died. I wish I could have done something more. If I would have gotten up and helped Grandpa fight Nick maybe he’d still be alive. Grandma’s life will never be the same, she’s trying to keep her spirit high for everyone, I know she’s in great pain. Tears streamed down my cheeks and out the corners of my eyes, drenching the pillow. My heart thudded in my chest, and my stomach began to ache. I turned on my side and curled up. The burning started in my hand again. I needed pain meds, but I was too weak to get up; too feeble to call out for help. The smell of smoke filled my room. My eyes slammed shut, and I fell into unconsciousness. I woke up in an abyss of darkness, I didn’t know how I got there, or how long I’ve been there.

“Help!” I screamed.

“Skin.” I heard someone say.

Smoke filled my nostrils; oddly it smelled like burnt meat. I dropped to my knees. “No, no, no, no!”

"All he wants is your skin.” A familiar voice said.

I turned to see John; plaid shirt unbuttoned exposing his pale fat gut, splotches of blood covered the pale flesh, dirty, unkempt hair spilled down his shoulders. Blood, exposed nerves, and muscle served as his face.

"All you have you have to do is give him your skin.” He said.

"W-why me?" Was all I could muster through heavy sobs.

"You angered him. Now, he can't rest until he gets your skin. If he can't get yours he'll take everyone's around you."

I noticed something shiny in John’s hand.  After a second glimpse, I realized he was holding a knife. He offered me the knife “Your skin."

I shook my head incredulously. "I-I can't."

"I don't blame you for crying you're just a boy. But if you give him your skin all this will end no one else has to die. Think of your mom, think of Grandma, think of Stacey.

I was terrified, but he was right. This thing wanted me and if it didn't get my skin it'd take someone else's. I took the knife in my hand and pressed the cold edge against my forearm.

“What the fuck." John said.

 I looked up at him confused. His mouth hung agape, a loud screeching emitted from his mouth it sounded like a a alarm. My eyes snapped open, and I was standing in the kitchen, a puddle of yellow liquid pooled around my feet. The awful screaming of the fire detector reverberated through the house.

Dad grabbed the knife from my hand. His face was as red as magma. “What the fu-”

“Bill stop.” Mom said.

I ran upstairs to my room, as I laid in bed.

John’s words echoed in my mind.


« Last Edit: 09:29 PM, 04/29/19 by Logan96 »


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