mother never knew Mills Florence, and she never went to Hollywood. But what can you expect from a whore? Good for spreading her legs and lying—even to her only child. You’re no one’s son, Richard. Nope. I’m sick of all this deceit. It’s time to face reality, boy. You’re nearly a man now. I’d say it’s time you knew the truth, and you know what? Your daddy is the same man who’s been raising you these last six years.”
Richard felt as if he’d been slugged in the stomach as the meaning of what she’d said came slowly over him like a morning haze clearing off the mountains. He shook his head, trying hard to rid his brain of this thought, but once Aunt Valerie had said it, he knew that she was right. Uncle James was his father. Of course he was. It all made complete sense now.
“Thought that might get you. That’s right, son, your precious mama was a whore for her own brother. No decency whatsoever, neither one of ‘em. Lustful and disgusting, and you and that man you call “uncle” are lucky I obey the Word of God, for I do not forsake my husband even when sinned against. I have always been true. I will be welcome through those gates of Heaven, but you, boy, you’ve got dirty, sinful blood flowing through your veins. You can only go to hell. Now that you know the truth, quit standing there dumbfounded and get that turkey! We don’t have all day. Your father will be back from the store soon.”
Aunt Valerie turned to go back in the house, muttering how ungrateful Richard was. Richard’s breathing became labored, his chest ached, and the burning behind his eyes was immense. His vision blurred as his heart raced. He needed to silence her.
He looked back over by the turkey’s coop where the axe rested against the shed. He walked over and grabbed the handle firmly. He crept up behind her, raised the axe.
Aunt Valerie turned around, “Richard? What are you . . .”
He swung like a ball player up to bat, and connected. Aunt Valerie’s head didn’t come all the way off, but the blow severed the jugular vein and her head fell forward, half-on, half-off. Blood sprayed out of her neck. Richard jumped out of the way as she slumped against the doorjamb.
Richard leaned down to where it looked as if Aunt Valerie was simply taking a rest, and lifted the lolling head up, her dead eyes meeting his. “ That’s what I’m thankful for, y’old bitch,” he said. “Don’t have much to say now, do you?”
When Richard murdered Janie Keaton he’d felt bad, not so much because he’d killed her, but because he didn’t have a friendship with her any longer. He’d had to kill her to control his destiny. No one was allowed to leave him, unless he said so.
Aunt Valerie was his second human victim, and this time he felt no remorse, none whatsoever. But he did not want to go to jail, so he’d have to act fast.
Richard went inside and pulled on some cleaning gloves, then dragged his aunt’s body over to the wood-chopping stump. He stood her up, then pushed her down hard across the stump, crushing her windpipe. The turkey made his insane gobbling noises inside his pen. If Richard were not in such a hurry, he’d go shut that fucking thing up, too. No time. Besides, the damn bird was part of the master plan, here.
Richard located a rock large enough to trip someone chasing a turkey around the yard. Richard let the turkey out of the coop. He wiped down the axe, then placed her hand on it so her fingerprints were the only ones on it. He put the axe down on the stump, as if she’d laid it there while trying to trap the turkey and then tripped, the blade sticking up and catching her just so across the throat.
He covered his tracks where he’d dragged his aunt’s body across the ground, and then surveyed the scene. It looked good. It appeared as if the turkey had escaped and Aunt Valerie had set down the axe in haste, and while chasing the turkey she’d tripped on a rock next to the stump and fallen onto the
Richard felt as if he’d been slugged in the stomach as the meaning of what she’d said came slowly over him like a morning haze clearing off the mountains. He shook his head, trying hard to rid his brain of this thought, but once Aunt Valerie had said it, he knew that she was right. Uncle James was his father. Of course he was. It all made complete sense now.
“Thought that might get you. That’s right, son, your precious mama was a whore for her own brother. No decency whatsoever, neither one of ‘em. Lustful and disgusting, and you and that man you call “uncle” are lucky I obey the Word of God, for I do not forsake my husband even when sinned against. I have always been true. I will be welcome through those gates of Heaven, but you, boy, you’ve got dirty, sinful blood flowing through your veins. You can only go to hell. Now that you know the truth, quit standing there dumbfounded and get that turkey! We don’t have all day. Your father will be back from the store soon.”
Aunt Valerie turned to go back in the house, muttering how ungrateful Richard was. Richard’s breathing became labored, his chest ached, and the burning behind his eyes was immense. His vision blurred as his heart raced. He needed to silence her.
He looked back over by the turkey’s coop where the axe rested against the shed. He walked over and grabbed the handle firmly. He crept up behind her, raised the axe.
Aunt Valerie turned around, “Richard? What are you . . .”
He swung like a ball player up to bat, and connected. Aunt Valerie’s head didn’t come all the way off, but the blow severed the jugular vein and her head fell forward, half-on, half-off. Blood sprayed out of her neck. Richard jumped out of the way as she slumped against the doorjamb.
Richard leaned down to where it looked as if Aunt Valerie was simply taking a rest, and lifted the lolling head up, her dead eyes meeting his. “ That’s what I’m thankful for, y’old bitch,” he said. “Don’t have much to say now, do you?”
When Richard murdered Janie Keaton he’d felt bad, not so much because he’d killed her, but because he didn’t have a friendship with her any longer. He’d had to kill her to control his destiny. No one was allowed to leave him, unless he said so.
Aunt Valerie was his second human victim, and this time he felt no remorse, none whatsoever. But he did not want to go to jail, so he’d have to act fast.
Richard went inside and pulled on some cleaning gloves, then dragged his aunt’s body over to the wood-chopping stump. He stood her up, then pushed her down hard across the stump, crushing her windpipe. The turkey made his insane gobbling noises inside his pen. If Richard were not in such a hurry, he’d go shut that fucking thing up, too. No time. Besides, the damn bird was part of the master plan, here.
Richard located a rock large enough to trip someone chasing a turkey around the yard. Richard let the turkey out of the coop. He wiped down the axe, then placed her hand on it so her fingerprints were the only ones on it. He put the axe down on the stump, as if she’d laid it there while trying to trap the turkey and then tripped, the blade sticking up and catching her just so across the throat.
He covered his tracks where he’d dragged his aunt’s body across the ground, and then surveyed the scene. It looked good. It appeared as if the turkey had escaped and Aunt Valerie had set down the axe in haste, and while chasing the turkey she’d tripped on a rock next to the stump and fallen onto the
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