Deadly Secrets. Part 36


Just ugh.

At the moment I’m not feeling the best. My throat is a little sore and looks like it did at the start of the tonsillitis the last time, which has me really paranoid. Particularly as the last time my throat felt this way, I woke up giant tonsils and a level 4 bio-hazard in my throat. I’m going to the doctor today to see if I have it again. If I do, I will be pissed. It will be 3 times in pretty much 3 weeks. I’m trying not to stress about it too much, I’m hoping it will go away so I won’t need to go for a bunch of tests/consume another round of antibiotics. It’s getting a bit ridiculous really.

I’m hoping what ever is up with my throat it gets solved quickly. It’s kinda weird considering I’ve never had a problem with my tonsils before this. Oh well. Just have to see how things go.

Beyond that, not much is happening. Redesigning my room, which is basically a fancy way of just moving things around/putting up some wall shelves. I really want to get all my books from my old room into my new one and have the room sorted and done with, especially if I’m getting sick.

Hope everyone has a good weekend!

On with the show!


Part 1, Part 35

He disposed of the body easily, there was no real fear of him getting caught. As he was preparing her for disposal, he cut off one of her tattoos, it was only a small thing, a cartoon character, but it would be good if she kept a memento. In time she’d decide what, if anything, she wanted to take, but for now, he would keep something for her. She needed something to link herself to the woman, something to remind her. He also kept the small necklace the woman was  wearing, a pretty thing of silver metal and a small jewel. He wouldn’t tell her where it came from, not for the moment. He knew she would need some time adjusting to it all, if she was confronted too soon she might have second thoughts and he couldn’t have that. She’d soon come to see things his way, he had no doubt of that, he could see the transformation occurring. When he was finished, he returned, she had slept, though he didn’t know if she had slept well or not. He couldn’t sleep his first time, but that was because of the adrenaline, he had been imagining it for so long.

He carried in a tray of food, French toast with maple syrup and bacon, he wanted her to have a treat. He set the tray down on the small table and left the room again. The cutlery he had supplied her with was plastic. He might have started to trust her, but he wasn’t a fool. While she was eating he cleaned the room she had been in originally. It was clean enough now, but there was still a slight tang of blood in the air. He wanted her to be comfortable.

The room smelled of chemicals when he was done and he left the door open after spraying some scented spray in the room. Once it all dissipated, the smell of blood would be truly gone. He knocked gently on the door and went inside, he was pleased to see she had eaten all her food; that was a good sign, a very good sign. She looked a little pale, but she had kept it down so far. She was progressing faster than he thought she would. He took the tray and locked the room again. He cleared everything away and read while he waited for the room to clear. It wouldn’t take long.

After twenty minutes he returned, the smell of the spray hung in the air, but it wasn’t too strong, it was in fact, quite pleasant. Smiling, he went to her room and brought her back inside. Once there, he closed the door and locked her in again. He had moved some more books into the room so she would have something to do. He was considering giving her a television, but he was reluctant. There were a few mentions of her on the news, not much, mostly at the tail end as a little aside, but he wasn’t sure how she’d react. As he went about the day, he hummed gently under his breath. It wasn’t long before it was time for lunch.

She had spent most of the night awake, only falling asleep momentarily, before nightmares forced her back to the world. She couldn’t believe what she had done, her skin felt dirty, even after the shower. She could feel the blood on her skin, tacky and flaky.  She shuddered. It wasn’t her fault. It was his, he made her do it. She had no real control over what happened. She had tried to make it as fast as possible for the woman, but he was dictating where and how she could cut. It didn’t matter how quickly she made the cuts, it seemed as though the woman had lived for days. Such relief when it was all over. He came into the room and left her a tray of food. She noted that the cutlery was plastic. French toast. She ate slowly, mechanically. Eating because she was supposed to, trying not to think. When she had finished, she had to fight to keep it down. She wouldn’t throw up, she couldn’t, he’d know then, know she’d been lying about enjoying it. When she was done, she moved away from the table and the plate, she couldn’t look at the remains of her breakfast. She sat on the bed again, forcing her mind to go blank. She wouldn’t think of it. If she could manage that, it would be like it never happened.

He entered again, but she didn’t notice. It wasn’t until he came back to get her that she realised the tray was gone. She tried not to shudder, he could have done anything when she wasn’t paying attention. Her old room stunk of chemicals and some kind of perfume, but underneath it all, she could still smell the blood, the sharp tang of it was in the air.

While she was alone, she stared at the chair, not moving, barely blinking. She couldn’t take her eyes from it. It held her gaze prisoner. He came in at lunch, the tray had two plates. He was going to eat with her. She had to pretend to be normal, that she was fine. If he saw how she truly felt, all would be lost. She smiled, trying to focus on what was happening, to tear her eyes from that chair. He talked as she ate, she kept dipping in and out. “Don’t worry, you’ll get much better at it, you won’t need much guidance. And you’ll be able to choose who you want.” She nodded, only half listening. “I got you something. To…to celebrate.” That caught her attention. “It isn’t anything much.” He took the necklace from his pocket. “It’s beautiful.” “Here, let me put it on you.” He stood and moved around her, to her back. She tried not to shiver. She lifted up her hair and allowed him to fasten the clasp. He returned to his seat and looked at her for a few moments, before nodding in satisfaction. “It’ll be your good luck charm.”

When they finished eating, he gathered up the things on the tray and stood to leave. He made it to the door before he paused. “It might be a little strange, but I’m not sure I know your name.” She wasn’t sure if she had told him before,  “it’s Sandra, Sandra McKenzie.” He smiled, “Sandra, I like it. Well Sandra, this is the beginning of your new life.” He stepped from the room, closing the door behind him. In the silence, she tried not to cry.


About Alan James Keogh

I am a 26 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
This entry was posted in Deadly Secrets, Horror, Series, Suspense, Thriller and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Deadly Secrets. Part 36

  1. Pingback: Deadly Secrets. Part 37. | Alan James Keogh

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