Crack Attack: A Collection of One-Shots and Other Disturbing Shit

Hush (ex-Merome)

Warning: Please double-check the warnings and triggers in the story description before you pass this line.

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            He left me for her. He did this to me and now he's done this to her. He did it to all of us. I gave him a year to figure his shit out and what does he do?! He blows me off. Starts postin' pictures of his ugly fuckin' kid to rub it in my face. Not my fault he plays both sides of the game - and now he's outta lives. Don't worry, love. Cavalry's here.

He always keeps the spare key in the same place, no matter where he lives. It takes two seconds to get in his house and the fancy shmancy security system doesn't even have time to start screechin' before there's a big ass meat axe stickin' out of it. He should know better than to depend on a fluffy little rat dog to keep crazy fuckers outta his house.

"I hope you're happy, Mitch." He isn't here. Of course he isn't here. He's never home. He was never home with me, either. Ungrateful flighty bastard. I hear the soft music playing upstairs and to the left. Must be the baby's room. Good. Can't have the little rugrat know what's goin' on.

I tiptoe up the stairs and to the right and there's a buncha dark rooms with the doors open. It's real quiet up here, nothin' but the music. I hold my breath in case it makes too much noise. Good thing their furry alarm system was already taken care of - wouldn't want it to wake up the baby. Oh, no. Not the baby. I check in each and every room: office, play room, empty bedroom, bathroom, empty bedroom, here we go. Found it. How many goddamn rooms do two people fucking need? Je-sus, Mitch.

I sneak in the room and stand in the shadows, watchin' and waitin'. She doesn't move. Good. Makes the whole thing easier for me. I stand over her, with her brittle, over-dyed hair fanned across both pillows and her lips pouted in her sleep. She left her fake lashes and make-up on again. Mitch's gonna be pissed she's still ruining all the pillow cases. I carefully pull the blanket back and there it is - another big giant lump. They didn't lose any time, did they? He was always a horny fucker. Not that I blame him too much. She's pretty, in a fake kind of way. I wonder what she looks like under all that overpriced mud. Looks like it's time for Barbie's next round of plastic fixer-upping.

The meat cleaver comes down right in the middle of her forehead and she grunts in pain while the straight line of blood spews out down her perfect little face. Well, she used to be pretty. It cleaved her nose in half and there wasn't much but bone underneath the thin skin on her forehead. I turn the blade sideways and pop her a good one and she doesn't move. Just knocked her out for a minute, that's all. I turn her over on her back and pull the blankets and jammies off. Her chesticles are all jiggly and swollen, prob'ly from pumpin' out his gremlin kids. That's not what I came for. Lachy said he'd been all worried she'd need a C-section from the first little brat and how she'd be all scarred up. Guess he's got bigger problems to worry about now.

I pop the pocket knife out and slowly drag the pointy tip right down the middle from her ribcage to her waistband. It opens up real easy. I hear her breathing get faster as she starts to wake up and I grab an ugly ass frilly maternity shirt from the dresser and shove it in her mouth. Now back to work. There's a lung, a dark red liver, light pink intestines, and right dab in the middle is a bright red sac of juicy bits. That's what we're lookin' for. I cut it open real gentle and blood and water gush out all over the bed. She starts screamin' and kickin' and I stop just long enough to smack her head against the headboard a couple times. I want her here to witness this, but shut the fuck up already! You lost!

I reach in the watery flesh bag and I find the little rat. As soon as it's outta the water it starts croaking - good thing I got here when I did or it woulda popped any day. He should be grateful I did him the favor. I slice through the cord and bring it over to show her when she wakes back up, hangin' there by its big ol' alien head. It's kickin' and wailin' and trying to grab onto my fingers with its slimy little paws. That's n-asty. Her eyes finally open again and I dangle it right in front of her face. She tries to grab it but it's too late.

"It's another girl," I whisper and she screams as I hold it up against the headboard and swing the cleaver. I love the sound of screaming in the early morning. That was a juicy little bug. Now that that's over, I'm sick of her sobbing. I'd leave her to tell the tale but she wouldn't make it, anyways. Who the hell knows when he's comin' home? I look down in her wide brown eyes and all I can do is smile. "You had your chance, Lucy. You had your fuckin' chance." The broad side of the cleaver smashes into her face and she whimpers and tries to hold it off. Suit yourself, lady. Off go the fingers, too. I swing it until the only sound left is my own shuddering breaths. I look down at the blood spray on the wall and all across the boring cream-colored sheets. Her pretty little face looks like roadkill now. Guess it always kinda looked like that. I grab my pocket knife off the foot of the bed and rest the dripping cleaver against my shoulder as I walk back down the hall. Now that the factory's shut down, just one more problem to take care of.

The music starts over when I walk in the room. There's a safari animal mobile spinnin' 'round and 'round above the crib and shining big, smiley animals up on the ceiling and walls. Simba ain't gonna help you now. She's asleep. I lean over the rail of the crib and look in at her and her plain cookie cutter face. Why do all babies look the same? Takes all the fun out of it.

All I ever wanted was to share him. That's all I ever wanted. I woulda been a good Daddy, too. What's so bad about having three parents? If he hated that so bad, then why'd he go with her? He barely knew her. I pet her tufty light brown hair and amber brown eyes flutter open to look up at me. His eyes. I always loved looking into his eyes. Last time I'm ever gonna see 'em up close. She climbs up and stands against the railing, smacking me on the arm with a big ol' grin on her face. She reaches up and tries to grab the cleaver from me but all she gets is a handful of cold blood. She immediately sticks her gooey hand in her mouth for a taste. She doesn't stop sucking on it.

"You like that, doncha? You're a sick fucker just like me. We coulda been friends, ya know, if your mommy wasn't such a selfish bitch. Yeah, I coulda been your daddy, too. You woulda liked that. Be here more than your real daddy is. He's a shitty fuckin' parent, isn't he? Yeah. Sorry you had to put up with his shit. That's all over now. I'mma help you out, little Bacca. We're gonna put a stop to it all." She flails her clean hand up and down on the rail in agreement and I nod, waiting for the song to end again. Things coulda been different. Different's not a bad thing. But she wouldn't have that, so now she doesn't get anything at all.

The last note gets closer and closer until it's passed. When I move the shiny cleaver out of her reach, she cries. I can't stand that sound, goddammit. Those big hazel orbs follow it up, up, up... but they can't move fast enough to follow it when it comes back down. With a crunch and a thunk, the crying stops. Big hazel orbs watch me as I leave, but soon they'll be grey and white.

I grab a beer and settle down in the armchair downstairs in front of the supersized smart TV and start scrolling through our old YouTube videos from when we used to record together. When we used to be happy together. And like always, I wait for his absentee ass to reappear. I glance over at the crusty red and black meat cleaver sitting on the little table next to me and I nod at it in approval.

He won't even know what hit him.