Out To Lunch…

Thanks for stopping by… out on vacation for a few weeks or months… check below for actual posts… first time visiting the website?… there are tabs for older stuff… poems… stories… previews for the books available… not sure if it is enough material to subside you until I return… but something is always better than nothing…

Hope all is well… Layne Ambrose…

When I get that bag down… is when I can write again…

T-shirts… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

The Memorial Day Incident

                “Just a little bit further Jason we need to get a good spot for your first parade.” The woman pulls her son through the crowd. The child looks scared and continues to mumble louder and louder after each person he brushes past. “What are you saying Jason?” The mother stops to hear her son in the large crowd. “I raped that little girl and it burns in my mind. I wonder if she even remembers, but she was so drunk she probably doesn’t,” the little boy says. “What are you talking about Jason?” the mother shrieks in horror. “I don’t like the crowd mom can we go back to the car?” “What were you saying before Jason?” “I didn’t say anything before mommy,” the boy says confused. The woman crouches down to be face to face with her son, “Yes you did and you should never repeat whatever it is you just said. You are much too young to be using those words or to even know them.” “What words? Are you mad at me?” The woman stands up and takes her child into her arms, “Never mind, I’m not mad at you sweetie.”  “Can we go back to the car?” the child asks once again. The woman puts him back on the ground. “Yes we can go back to the car,” she says disappointed. “We just have to go back through the crowd. Can you do that?” The little boy nods his head yes and she takes his hand once again. They start to make their way through the crowd and almost immediately he begins to mumble again as he slips by people in the crowd. This time however it is a different woman that hears him not his mother. “What did he just say?” the stranger asks his mother. “Sorry?” she asks the stranger. “What did your son just say to me?” Confused Jason’s mother tells the woman, “Nothing he doesn’t know what he is saying. The crowd is making him very nervous and scarred.” “That’s no excuses for lying about my father like that,” the stranger says in anger. “What?” Jason’s mother asks. “Your little bastard kid just said my dad like to touch me in my sleep and that I liked it. Which is bull shit lady my dad’s a fucking saint.” The crowd around them grows slowly quite to hear what they are saying. “Why is she yelling mom?” “Because she is confused,” his mother says while taking his hand again. “Fuck that I’m not confused your son is just a sick freak.” “Like I said he is scarred and nervous because of the crowd. He doesn’t know what he is saying and you are just making it worse for him.” “I’m making it worse?” the lady says while throwing up her arms. “I’ll show him what worse really is.” The stranger eyes the child as someone steps up to them. “Excuses me is there a problem here?” a uniformed police officer asks the two ladies. “Yes there is her fucking bastard child is making up stuff about my father and me.” “Ma’am the language is not appropriate. He is just a child he probably just doesn’t know what he said.”

The cop kneels down to be at Jason’s level. He places his hand on the child’s shoulder, “Why don’t you just say you’re sorry, and you and your lovely mother can enjoy the rest of the parade.” “I shot him because he was black. I knew he didn’t have a weapon, but I shot him anyways. What’s the world with one less black man? A better place,” Jason says to the cops face. The cop turns a lighter shade of pale, “Excuse me?” “Oh my god Jason I can’t believe you just said that. That is enough,” his mother says while picking him up. “I’m so sorry,” the mother tries to explain to the cop. The police officer ignores her. “That never happened. He had a gun so I shot him,” he says to himself. The crowd grows even quieter as the cop backs away from the mother and child. “Told you the kid was a freak,” the stranger says. “Shut up,” the officer says to the woman. The crowd murmurs while staring at the cop. “So what if he was black?” the cop asks while looking around at the people around him. “A criminal is a criminal and I did what I had to do to protect myself,” the cop mumbles to himself. “Mom I want to go home I’m scared.” Jason puts his head in the crook of his mother’s neck. He buries his head as deep as she begins to speak, “I’m just going to take my son home if that is okay with you officer. He didn’t mean what he said and doesn’t even know what he is saying.” The cop doesn’t look up as he speaks, “That is probably for the best ma’am.”

The mother turns to walk through the crowd once again. Two people in front of the crowd move right out of the way making sure to not touch the child as they pass by. “That’s it,” the stranger shouts before throwing her arms down and walking away. As his mother tries to go around a rather large man Jason’s dangling foot lightly touches the man’s arm. “I buried them under my house. The smell is starting to get to me but in a way I like it,” Jason says. The man has a face of shock as he tries to move away without anyone noticing. Jason mother stops dead in her tracks as someone from the crowd shouts, “Someone get that man.” “Why I’ve done nothing the wrong here,” the man says while trying to push through the crowd that will not move. “Just because a child says something that makes it true?” the man asks the crowd. Jason’s mother sets her son back on the ground, “What did you do?” “I didn’t do anything,” the man says nervously. “This is Officer Johnson, I need back up on the intersection of Fifth and Jackson,” the officer says into his communicator. “Backup?” the man questions out loud. “There’s no need for backup I didn’t do anything.” The officer pulls his gun from its holster, “Please put your hands behind your head.” “Hey, watch it there trigger finger I didn’t do anything.” “Then you won’t mind putting your hands behind your head? I won’t ask again.” “Okay so some crazy fucking kid says something and we’re all going to believe him?” The crowd is still silent as the people behind the man slowly move away. “My son is not crazy. I don’t know what is wrong with him, but he is not crazy.” The man grabs her throat and begins to choke her. “Your son is crazy,” the man grips tighter on her throat, “Fucking say it.” The man pulls her in front of his body as the officer fires two rounds. The two shots hit her right in the chest. The man releases his grip on the woman’s throat as she falls to her knees. Jason’s mother coughs up blood as the officer also goes down to his knees.

The crowd begins to cry out and run in all directions, “Nice job officer dip shit. I guess we will just have to add another innocent death to your list.” Jason has not moved from his spot as he stands there stunned. The large stranger walks up to Jason and grabs him by the shoulders as he raises him high into the air. “Why did you do this you little brat?” the man screams as he shakes the child. Jason begins to cry out a mixture of mumbles and tears. “I sliced her open like she was a deer or some other wild animal.” “Shut up,” the man says as he shakes the child harder. “Put the kid down,” the officer tries to say but the words just fall to the ground. “Another, I fucked her while she bleed out all over my garage floor,” Jason begins to laugh but it is not the laughter of a child. “Shut the fuck up,” the man says as he wraps his powerful hands around Jason’s throat. The man squeezes as hard as he can as Jason fights to say something, “I prefer to asphyxiate my victims and I save it for the special ones.” Too weak to move Jason hangs there as the man begins to shake him once again, “I said shut up.” “Put the kid down,” the officer tries again. The officer rises to his feet, “What’s another dead piece of shit?” The cop fires all of the remaining bullets, but one into the man’s body. The cop takes the burning hot barrel and places it into his mouth blowing out the back of his head. Back up finally arrives on the scene to find all the dead people on the ground.

True fucking story I tell the people across from me. A few of them are my friends and a few of them aren’t.  They even have a name for what happened even though most of the people back home like to pretend it never happened. “What’s it called I’ll Google it right now?” a naïve girl asks from across the fire. “You won’t get any signal out here. We are in the middle of nowhere,” another girl says. “Okay whatever I’ll write it down and look it up later what was it called?” As dramatically as I can be I tell them what it was called. It is called the Memorial Day Incident. “What kind of fucking name for something is that? That stories such bull shit,” the girl says. “No it really happened,” a friend of mine says. “Okay then what happened to Jason?” I start to say something, before being cut off. “I want him to tell me,” she demands. “What happened to Jason? That’s what you want to know?” my friend asks. The girl nods her head, “Yeah what happened to Jason?” “Jason died that’s what happened to him. The large man shook him so hard that his neck snapped,” the friend explains as he looks over at me. “I still think it is all bull shit, but whatever. Who else has an actual scary story to tell?”

More short stories and stories like this can be found in Drinking Bleach… my book of short stories… now available on Amazon… check out some more cool stuff on Threadless… and tell me how much I suck over on Twitter… I feel so dirty… but my doctors tell me I have to eat… and to pay their bills… bunch of quacks if you ask me…

With The Bodies Piling Up In The Corner… I Thought You Should Know…

Head Seems Stuck

Fucking asshole with a face
Spewing your toxic shit all over me
Who the hell do you think you are
No one at all
Follow along because I don’t know better
Woke to an idea
An idea that doesn’t mean shit
Respect is a worthless term
What am I worth to your overall need
Burning down your broken ideas
Inhaling this feeling, go away
Lost, trapped, where have you been?
Is god supposed to mean something
To the devil it is all the same
An honesty that can’t be hidden
Rethink what you believe
In a world of lies
Stacking shit miles high
Stacking piles of you all along the road
Life was worth so much more
When it was worth nothing at all

All Worked Up

Shaking your ass like no one gives a shit
Blind to your own pain
Take away all the anger
Only left with shame
How I’ve longed to feel the same
Centerfold for all my hate
Spreading your ass like no one means a thing
Numb to your own vanity
Took away all the essence
Of a being
My heart was sold on a first glance
Sold my soul for a taste
Need a name, registration
Living under the tree of your needs
The blood flows through the roots
Extension of an idea
The tension is killing me
Each gust of wind pushing harder
Digging out my own grave
Fall into the silence of an endless existence
Bodies piling up in the corner
I thought you should know
They’re all for something more
Worship, adore, used, useless
Distasteful way of saying
I’ve saved the best for last

Another poem about work?… yeah fuck that place… not sure what about work… but I don’t need a reason to be pissed off about that place… I mean they want me to interact with these walking asshole and be happy about it?… as if… Work isn’t that bad most days… that was hard to type… it really isn’t… I could be doing worse things… what they are… I’m not sure… but if I was doing them… I could tell you right away… haha…

Poem 2 is dirty… digging a grave isn’t easy… if you have done it… you know what I am talking about… cheap joke… what you come here for… poem 2 is about a serial killer… or a murderer… the want… the obsession… the dissatisfaction… and the need for more… I didn’t research this in the field… hell I didn’t even mean to write it… Netflix is just over saturated with true crime documentaries… and I have a want… an obsession … a dissatisfaction… and a need to watch them all…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon... Broken Thoughts… Twitter...

So Some of You May Have Noticed…

That there hasn’t been any new post for When There Is No More Room…. and basically after this one there won’t be… Some shit came up… but unlike the last year or so… this shit was all positive… It also has kind of hindered a lot of my plans for the rest of the year… but I’m excited about it so that is something… I started working on my next novel… because I have started writing my next novel… I lost interest in finishing a failed one…

For those of you who really enjoyed When There Is No More Room... I am sorry… I wanted to finish it… I fought the last couple of weeks to get it done… but honestly my heart isn’t there… I’m sure many of you could feel it on the last couple of post I did for it… if you didn’t I am glad… I wasn’t trying to phone anything I wrote in… in my head though it felt like I was… the plan was to just push through it… get it done… and on the next project… have it all fully written and fleshed out… something I didn’t do for When There Is No More Room

Well kind of… I had doctor parts from a failed third book from years ago… but that was it… even they had to be rewritten and worked… the rest was just me sitting down at the computer… thinking how do I kill people?… pulling stories from my ass… and I thought that would last until the end… turns out I didn’t have anything more to pull out of my ass… by about mid way… I didn’t hate No More Room… I felt like I came up with some pretty great stuff in the beginning… maybe some stuff I’d like to go back to at a later date… but for the most part it did what it needed to do for me… and that was get me writing again… get me interested in writing stories again… which it has…

Many… if not all… of you are writers… not all are novelist or have any interest in writing a novel… there are a lot of ups and downs… a fuck ton of false starts… and a million ideas that don’t lead to no where… then you have to write the fucking thing… don’t even get me started on editing… I hate editing… takes too god damn long… and if you do it right… by the time you are done editing… you are pretty much at the point of fuck this piece of shit… why did I ever think that I could write in the first place??… maybe that last part is me… : )

So I am excited to get that going… but I am also bummed that I didn’t finish No More Room… I will however post the original ending… how it was meant to end… I did have that written from before… I will drop that below this excuse… I also have some fun facts to share about the project… I will post that at the end as well… again I apologies that I didn’t finish the story properly… and I thank those of you who stuck with it…

Layne Ambrose


I Think We Are Alone Now

“I’m scared Chris do we really have to be here so late? Couldn’t we have come earlier in the day?” She asks pressing against me. I’m scared too, but I don’t let her know that. “Don’t be scared baby. I just wanted to show you around that’s all,” I tell her. “You’ve been here before this late?” She asks. “Of course I have,” I tell her as we sneak up the dilapidated stairs. “Don’t give me that look,” I don’t even look at her, but even in the dark I can tell she has one on her face. “Well who were you here with last?” She asks rather loud. She stops in her tracks. “Are you serious right now?” I whisper. “I just want to know who you were here with last? What’s her name?” She asks even louder. “Baby, I wasn’t here with only one person. My friends and I used to come here all the time. I told you that before,” I whisper. The sound of shuffling feet comes from nowhere. We grab each other tight. “What was that? Is this place really haunted? Didn’t something happen in the 50’s?” she whispers in fear.

I listen for any more sounds and I don’t hear anything. I pull on her gently to continue going up the stairs, “Some people say they hear voices of past patients, but I’ve never heard anything like voices here.” We climb one more flight of stairs and I slowly open the door at the top. We sneak our way into the hallway. “Can we just go already? I don’t like it here at all. It feels really cold for some reason,” she whines. “We already climbed the stairs and the really cool stuff is up here. Stand closer to me and you will warm up. This building is super old and it is a cold night. Imagine being one of the patients?” I ask her. She doesn’t say anything. “There is only a few things I want you to see and then we can go?” I kiss her on the cheek. “There wasn’t anything cool you could have shown me on the first floor?” She asks in a worried voice. “No, the really good stuff is on this floor. This is where they had some of the patients and the shock treatment equipment,” I can’t hide my excitement.

“I don’t think we should be messing with that stuff,” she pleads. “Oh, don’t worry no one’s around so, no one is going to care. It will be fun I promise. Plus you said you wanted to see it,” I remind her. “Really starting to regret agreeing to any of this. I hope we don’t hear anything scary up here,” she says. “Why afraid you’ll scream and wake everyone up?” I ask jokingly. “Haha, like I care about that,” she says mockingly. “Well you should,” I say in a creepy voice. “They kept some serious freaks here. Nearly anyone in this region the state thought were to broken to put in jail,” I tell her. “Why didn’t they just kill them then?” She asks. “You shouldn’t talk like that. What if you piss one of them off?” I ask. “What if I do? It’s not like they can do anything about it?” She states. “Can we just go a little bit faster? I’m only being cautious because this building is pretty old,” I tell her. “So this place isn’t safe?” She asks surprised.

“Great so you’re putting my life at risk? This is one hell of a date,” she whines. “This is a date?” I ask confused. “Seriously?” she shakes her head. “At this rate you’d be lucky if I even admit to knowing who you are after this,” she warns. “Sorry, I thought we were only hanging out. I didn’t realize it was a date. I didn’t even think you were really that in to me,” I stop to tell her. “And if you had known?” She asks. “Well I wouldn’t be trying to impress you right now with how brave I am. I would have taken you to a much more romantic place then this shit hole,” I tell her. “Well how about we get out of here and do just that?” She asks staring into my eyes. I lean in to kiss her on the lips. With my eyes close I hear her words. “Do you smell that?”

I stop leaning and smell around us, “All I smell is you.” A look of horror comes across her face, “It smells like fresh cigarettes. I think someone is up here.” I put my hands on her shoulders, “Didn’t you see all that dust and ash coming up here? It has been sometime since anyone has been up here.” She starts shaking. “You shouldn’t be here,” a voice says from behind us. “What the fuck,” she screams as she runs back down the hall way. I turned to see where the voice is coming from. “There’s no one there,” I say out loud. “I know,” she screams behind me. “But there is no one there,” I say to myself to paralyzed to move. The smell of cigarette smoke washes over me, “I said you shouldn’t be here.” The sound of shuffling feet fills the hall way, but no one is there. “Do you have an appointment?” the voice asks as I black out.

This was a long ass post… probably should have made an appointment for your time… yeah that was bad… so as promised fun facts about this story… some lose ends tied up as well…

Fun Fact... The title of this story comes from the tagline of my favorite movie of all time… “When there is no more room in hell the dead shall walk the earth”... Any guesses?… hopefully none… but it is from Dawn of the Dead (1978)… If you caught that early one… you might have guessed the ending… if not then it was just something fun for me…

Lose end… So originally this whole thing was going to be my third book… doctor… patient… back and forth… I tried to do a smaller version here on the website… basically everything that the doctor was saying was after they all died because he was trapped in “hell”… reliving every day he had to work at the shit box asylum… the patient stories all took place before the fire… or before they all died…

Fun Fact… the doctor bitching about the facility was the real killer… not him… he honestly wanted to help them… fought to keep the place up and running… tried to get them the help he believed he could provided… but the state was like fuck’em… so we was waging a war on all fronts… which broke his mind… then he died… because the shit building fell apart somehow… I didn’t have that part worked out yet… that’s a twofer…

Lose end… the doctor and his brother… that plot thread was an add on from the beginning… so years ago… I believe I hinted at it here in the smaller story… I was going to take it out… but just as I did then… I liked the idea that the doctor had a reason for being a doctor… also the back and forth between him and his brother was interesting to me… something I needed to work out… didn’t… and now it is like what the fuck?… it had a bigger overall theme in the original…

I think that was it… Did you catch all the weird 50’s or earlier references in the patient’s stories?… if you have any questions?… are pissed that I didn’t finish it?… don’t give a shit?… or just want to say hi?… leave a comment at the bottom… for those of you who cared… I hope this was at least something to put an end to the story for you…

When There Is No More Room… Part 10…

Don’t Stand So Close To Me

I like to keep my things in jars. I have many jars all around my room. I used to as a child go out in the woods behind my house and collected bugs. I had so many in my collection. Water bugs, butterflies, lightning bugs, and all sorts of beetles. I used to watch them crawl or fly around their jars. Each one or type I guess had their own jar to call their own. Little worlds that they could live in. Live in until they died. They always died. Why did they always die on me? Everything always dies on me. Mother, sister, and the bugs. I used to label them and everything.  It would drive my mother crazy. All the jars filled with dead bugs under my bed. I couldn’t stop collecting them though. No matter how many died or how upset my mother got.

Growing older I became more and more fascinated with the bugs I kept in my jars. Though I never had the passion to really understand what it was that I was collecting. I wasn’t book smart my mother used to say. I just liked the way they looked in their jars. One day while exploring in the woods I heard this odd noise cut through the singing birds. It sounded like nothing I had ever heard in the woods before. It sounded as though a small child was crying. Was my sister lost in the woods? Over and over I heard the noise. The closer I got the louder the noise became. I knew I was on the right path. Frantically I searched for the noise until I came across a small deer. Not quite a baby but not yet an adult. It was just there lying in the open grass between some trees. It saw me before I saw it, but it kept crying. Figured it would run away when I got close enough and between me and you it tried, but the little deer had broken its leg. As I got closer it struggled to get away. Dragging the broken leg behind it. Leaving a trail of blood. I had never seen so much blood before. It looked so odd, so out of place amongst the green of the grass. I got so close to the deer that I could reach out and touch it. The cry it was making was so loud by then. The sound was almost unbearable. I studied the hurt animal as it tried to get away. I watched it for so long that after a while I couldn’t even hear the sound it was making. I couldn’t hear anything.  

It must have grown tired because after some time the deer stopped trying to get away. It laid its head down in the grass, its mouth moving, and its chest moving up and down rapidly. Cried and cried as I watched. In that moment in time it was only me and it in the whole world. The deer’s rapid breathes become slow and shallow breathes. We locked eyes for what felt like a life time. I placed my right hand on the back of its head and it went silent. Silent like it knew what was going to happen next. I tried to make it quick. Grabbing the top of its muzzle with my left hand I gave it everything my little body had a twist. Its neck snapped. I know I heard it or maybe I only felt it, but it wasn’t enough. Its body flopped around in the grass as I tried to hang onto its head. I tried twisting its head again, but it just kept shaking my hand lose. I could barely keep a hold of the deer. So I jumped onto its back like anyone would I suppose and tried to wrestle it still. It was all happening so fast until everything seemed to stop around me. I was so frustrated, so angry that I lost control of everything. I seemed to have gone to another place within myself. By the time I came back to reality there I was holding this deer’s head in my hands. I no longer cared about bugs. Not when there was so many things out in the woods that needed my help and attention. I find that people are much the same as that deer or the birds or the rabbits of the world. They all need my help and attention.

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

When There Is No More Room… Part 9…

Only a Matter of Time

“Hello Liam,” I say as I enter the room. “Doctor,” he smiles in his own sinister way. “How’s everything today?” I ask him. “Oh you know can’t really complain. Got to sleep in late, watched as the birds played in the trees while I enjoyed my very nutritious breakfast, and afterword I went for a nice walk around town,” he deadpans. “Cute, I’m sure it is easy to get around town in that straight jacket,” I say to him. “It is a tad bit constraining, but you know the ladies love a man who knows how to dress for the occasion,” he laughs. “And I’m sure the ladies love you. It is only too bad that you are a danger to yourself and everyone else,” I say as I open the file in front of me. “A danger to myself?” he gasps. “Tell me is that your medical opinion or your personal opinion? Because I will have you know that there isn’t one person out there who would back up your claim,” he shifts in his chair. “That’s because beside me there is no one left who really knows you Liam. You made sure of that didn’t you?” I ask. He tries to lean his chair back but it is bolted to the floor. “There’s no use scratching at the scars of the past now is there Doctor?”

“Unfortunately that’s all you have any more. Tell me do you ever stop to think that may be the reason you are in here instead of out there?” I ask him. “Are you really asking me if I have time to think right now? Or are you simply trying to get through your checklist of nonsensical questions? Because I’m having a hard time telling the difference,” he fires back. I’m losing him. The nice guy, everything is a joke personality is starting to fade. I can see it in his eyes. The dark hollow orbs staring back at me. I write down my observation on the paper in front of me. “See something you like? Find something new? Care to discuss what new profound idea popped into your head?” I ignore his questions. Bait to fall into a trap. Liam likes words. Uses them to distract you, confuse you into doing exactly what he wants. A trait he must have possessed his whole life. “Stop looking at me like some sort of side show freak,” he growls. “Are you angry Liam?” I finally ask him. He tries to fake a smile but the real Liam has taken over, “No of course not.” His eyes never blink. Only if you are looking for it do you even notice that the skin around his eyes begin to tighten with every passing moment. No one the wiser would think he looks calm, cool, and collected, but I can see through his mask. He has the look of a mostly forgotten memory. “God, there is just so much of him left inside of you,” I say. The lines of his face form a most sinister smirk, “Do you mean our father?”

“Are you sure that I didn’t burn most of him out? Medically speaking.” Liam turns his head to show off his scars and what’s left of his left ear. “I’m very certain that no matter how much you hurt yourself you will always be like him,” I tell him. “Why don’t you take this straight jacket off and we can test that theory Doctor,” he says. His voice calm and his eyes like fire. “I’d prefer we didn’t. Medically speaking of course,” I smile. “I’m sure you do. Remember how you used to hide behind the living room curtains whenever he would come home? You were weak then and you are just as weak now. I never feared our father. Even as a child I could see what he was. Maybe I didn’t understand it completely but I knew what I wanted to be,” he muses. “Are you admitting that you were fully aware of your crimes?” I ask with my pen in my hand. He ignores my question. “You probably get off on the idea that your little brother is some kind of monster? But here is the thing brother. You can hide behind your little curtain. You can roam these halls pretending you are some educated healer, but we both know. I know that you aren’t. No, hidden away somewhere in that thick skull of yours he hides. It hides. You think you are better than me, but you are nothing more than the same,” he rants.

“I think that is enough for today,” I say uncomfortably. “Of course you do. You have no back bone. Never have. You can’t accept who you really are. What we are,” he taunts. Do not give in I think to myself. Don’t listen to his false words. “I can stand up for myself just fine. I know who I am and what I am,” I tell him. “Yeah and what is that Brother?” he asks me. “Sane, normal, a free man in this world. A man not strapped down by chains for sins committed.” I enlighten. He looks almost bored from my words. “I pity you brother I really do. You can hide behind your curtain, your title. The idea that you are sane. Free from the evils of this family, but in reality it is you that is in chains not me,” he taunts. “You can taunt me all you want Liam, but I am the one in control,” I say firmly. His eyes look as though they might jump from his skull, “You will never know the true meaning of control. You will never feel its true power for as long as you hide behind the curtain. Those victims as you call them were nothing more than stepping stones, martyrs to show me a better life. They showed me the truth of this world. Beyond our father. Beyond reason. So you can judge me all you want from behind your curtain or you can join me on the other side of it.” I signal for the orderlies to come in and take him away, “This meeting has been insightful as always. Can’t wait to see you in a few weeks to do it all over again Liam.” The orderlies place his muzzle around his face and left him up from the chair. “It is only a matter of time Brother. I can see it in your eyes,” he shouts as he exits the room. “Only a matter of time.”

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

When There’s No More Room… Part 8…

A Pattern of Abuse

“Try again. Sound out the words,” his mother says holding back her frustration. “I know it can be difficult to read, but you have to learn.” She rubs the top of his head. The little boy looks over the page studying the images first and then the words. “The boy ex, escaped through the fa, fa,” he stops as a hand smacks him hard against his head. “Fire you dumb shit. It says fire,” his father barks. “Damn it James he was only trying to sound out the word,” his mother pleads. “Stupid doesn’t know how to read fire?” His father asks before taking another drink. “I ain’t raising no dumb illiterate asshole in this house. He ain’t going to add up to shit any way, but if he can’t read? Be even more worthless than he already is. Can’t be slow, fat, and stupid,” his father argues. “You are one to speak. You can barely,” his mother doesn’t finish the sentence as his father raises his hand. Tears begin to form in the boy’s eyes. “That’s right woman. Know your place,” his father says before finishing off his drink. The boy fights the urge to cry. He knows better than to show weakness. Fights even harder to not let his father see. “Are you crying?” His father asks. The boy tries even harder to make the emotions stop by looking down away from his father. His father grabs him by the back of the neck, “Those look like tears to me. I asked you a question. Are you crying?” Tears fall from the boy’s eyes. “No,” the boy yells. His father’s eyes light up. The spark that he needed. “James don’t. He didn’t mean it,” his mother pleads. “Bitch unless you want to be taught a lesson yourself I suggest you shut the fuck up and get me another drink.” His mother walks out of the room as the hand around his neck squeezes to the point he can barely breathe. “You don’t talk to me like that you little shit. Even got your mother acting stupid. Must be some kind of sickness going around here. Best to stomp this sickness right out before it spreads any further.”

James drags his son by the neck out of the room and down the basement stairs, “First you can’t even read. Now all of a sudden you the big man with the balls to talk to your father like that. You want to cry like a baby? We don’t cry in this family. You want to be a man? Act like one.” James throws his son against the cage across from the basement stairs. The boy’s body lands against the cage with a loud crash. Grabbing his side the boy cries harder as he lay against the dirt floor. “Get in the cage,” his father orders. Kicking the child in the back, “I said get in the cage. What are you deaf and dumb now? Don’t act like you don’t know what is happening.” The boy shakes in fear as he enters the cage. The cage door slams hard behind him as he falls to the dirty floor of the cage. Torn up bits of clothing and old rotten food surround him as he fights the pain in his side. Fights to breathe. Fight the urge to scream. He can no longer take it as he hears the familiar sound of his father picking up the old iron rod. He wails in pain and frustration as he knows what comes next.

“Strip,” his father orders. “I don’t want to,” the boy expels in broken words and snot. “Sorry what was that?” His father mocks. Striking the side of the cage with the iron rod, “Don’t you make me ask twice? No use in fucking up your clothes over your stupidity, but don’t think I won’t.” His father walks over to the furnace and opens the door. The boy does as he was told. The fire burning inside lights up the room. His father places the end of the rod in the fire before asking, “Are you sorry?” Too afraid to move, too afraid to see the boy lays there. “Are you or are you not sorry?” His father asks. “Yes,” the boy shouts. “I want to hear you say it,” his father demands. The iron rod heats up. The boy sits up and grabbing the side of the cage, “I’m sorry father.” His father stands there with his back facing him. Doesn’t even bother to look him. Only stares at the end of the iron bar in the fire,” I don’t believe you.”

“So this pattern of abuse went on for years?” The doctor asks. The young man nods to the question. “Why not report it to anyone?” The doctor asks. “To who?” He asks right back. Writing some notes down the doctor studies the young man’s body language. “Tell me Steven did it feel good doing what you did? Getting your revenge? Was it worth it?” The Doctor asks. “No, not really. It wasn’t worth it. I didn’t enjoy it the way that he did,” Steven says. “Odd because I don’t believe you,” the doctor smiles. Steven smiles back. “It did feel good shoving that hot iron rod right up his ass. Should have heard the way he screamed. The way he cried like a little baby until his last breathe. I didn’t enjoy the beginning but the end? It was too bad that it couldn’t have happened sooner. But we all learn a lesson in the end I suppose,” Steven rubs the scars on his side over his hospital gown.

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