Roses are red (standard:horror, 4099 words) [3/3] show all parts
Author: Welis	Added: Nov 22 2004	Views/Reads: 2252/1825	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Chapters 4-7

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

When he first saw Sarah, sheer terror passed though him.  She was
covered in blood.  She hadn't had her seat belt on and apparently had 
been thrown around in the truck as the collision took place.  Glass was 
everywhere.  There was still the matter of any physical damage she 
might have sustained.  Although he was worried about any possible 
injuries, he took her carefully out of the totaled truck onto to the 
pavement.  She was breathing fine from what he could tell and he 
cradled her head in his lap.  Oh lord, if you can possibly hear me, 
please let her be okay, let her be okay!  Oh, God!  He started to sob; 
he was scared she wouldn't be okay.  After about ten minutes she slowly 
came into consciousness, blinking wildly, then slowly, focusing on the 
image of her husband.  She forced a smile across her face, the pain in 
her chest and legs almost prevented it. 

“Are you going to be okay?” John asked, a sense of panic showing on his
face. 

“Fine, just a little soreness like rough sex,” she joked, coughing after
the last word.  “Other than that, no problemo.”  He struggled to get in 
a standing position, because of his own pain, and helped Sarah to her 
feet.  He had to take on most of her weight, because of her leg.  They 
made their way to the driver's side of the pick-up and both let out a 
horrified gasp.  The man in the truck was lying sprawled out beside the 
truck.  There was glass everywhere and just as much blood along with 
it.  She turned her head, mortified.  He just stared, just blankly 
stared at the body.  He leaned her up against the side of the truck and 
bent down to check on his pulse.  There was none, and no breathing that 
is supposed to accompany a normal living person's heartbeat.  He slowly 
backed away towards Sarah.  “He's not breathing; we've got to go.  
Now!”  He pulled Sarah away and burdened her weight. 

“What about the man and your the truck?  Your truck!  What about your
goddamned truck?  John!” 

He just continued on, concentrating on the task at hand.  “Don't worry
about my truck.  My truck, it's not even mine.  No clue who's it is, 
don't really care.”   She didn't understand. Sarah heard a small hint 
of something she had never detected in his voice before.  It was almost 
frightening.  She hoped she would never hear the sound of that side of 
him ever again.  It was only about three more miles to the closest town 
and they would make it.  The walk was a long, strenuous, silent one. 

Chapter 5 

We checked into the motel around one o'clock in the morning.  We were
both exhausted from the long walk outside of the small suburban town.  
The feelings hadn't changed between us in the ordeal we went through 
together, if anything it brought us closer together.  We didn't talk 
about the accident or anything in general on the long walk, he just 
kept asking me if I was okay.  He practically carried me the entire 
way. 

After we got the room checked out, John let me get into the bathroom
first to clean up.  I was grateful of that, because every inch of me 
was dirty.  I had dried blood all over the place from the glass that 
had scratched me.  The shower felt great.  I could just feel the 
steaming water rinsing away the dirt and shards of glass down the 
drain.  After I got out of the shower, I checked myself over to see 
what major damage had been done.  The pain in my chest was from where I 
had hit the dash.  There was a bruise, but nothing seemed broken.  I 
didn't have any trouble breathing, so I wasn't worried about that 
particular injury.  I don't know how I'd hurt my leg though.  It didn't 
look as if it were broken.  It was bruised and multicolored, but I 
didn't have a limp that bad, only when I turned my knee a certain 
direction. 

I washed my clothes in the bathroom sink with the complementary soap.  I
was surprised the hotel even gave their customers that.  The outside of 
the motel was enough to keep any paying customers away.  The faded 
mustard yellow paint that covered the outside was peeling and had moss 
growing on it.  You would think it was abandoned if it wasn't for the 
VACANCY sign, flashing as you exit the street.  I wrapped up in a towel 
and walked out the door to lay them on the handrail out the door to 
dry.  Then, I heard sirens.  I looked to the highway, not a soul was 
present, but I heard the unmistakable sound of emergency sirens.  I 
glanced once more down the empty highway, and as if I had jinxed 
myself, there they came, speeding down the road.  I stood there for 
only a moment to make sure that they were still going, then I went back 
inside. 

John had taken over the bathroom while I had stepped outside.  I laid
down and didn‘t even realize that I had dozed off until the television 
had awoken me.  I must've taken a long snooze than planned, because 
John was done out and watching TV.  I looked over at him and admired 
his good looks.  He had shut the curtains covering the windows so that 
the only light in the room was the television screen.  There was 
something about the way he looked in the bluish tint of the glow from 
the TV.  He looked as if he were thirty-three instead of twenty-three.  
He was so sexy.  “John?” 

He looked over at me.  I was still in the towel that I had wrapped
around myself to dry off.  “Yeah?” he asked very softly. 

I scooted closer to him and kissed him.  “I love you.” I said as I
pulled away from him briefly to say the words. 

The next few hours seemed like an eternity with him.  He had been the
only one in my life that when we make love, you would think it would go 
on forever.  There was something about our bodies, our chemistry, and 
our faithful love that made us have an eternal and internal connection. 
 Afterwards, we just laid there, wrapped in each other's embrace, 
knowing that we would forever be treasuring the moments, from now on 
out, that we would share together.  Just being there with him was the 
best feeling in the world.  I love him so much.  We fell asleep there, 
lying with each other as Siamese twins would, inseparable. 

Chapter 6 

“Mommy, mommy?” the young girl calmly called into the dimly lit, endless
corridor.  Apparently, she was looking for her mother, for some reason. 
 Scattered along the bland, yellow walls were photographs of people, 
ordinary people, except for the fact that they had no faces.  The 
people in the framed photos were riding in beautiful vehicles, walking 
on the beach at sunset, and many other peaceful, serene activities, 
except they were all without faces.  She preceded down the hallway 
trying random doors as she went, so far all have been locked. 

Finally, she came to the last door after what seemed like hours of
wandering the deserted hallway.  She reached out with her hand and took 
hold of the brass door knob.  It turned, yes unlocked!  She went into 
the large vacant room that was no brighter than the hallway she had 
just left.  Empty, except for the man standing in the middle of the 
room, his back to her. 

Once she entered, the door quietly, slowly closed shut behind her.  She
walked calmly up to the man and touched his arm.  “Have you seen my 
mommy?” the small girl asked. 

He turned around and smiled at the small girl standing before him.  All
of a sudden, he got this look on his face like he had been punched in 
the stomach.  His legs buckled beneath him and he fell over on his 
belly.  The girl slowly backed away, her eyes glued to the suffering 
man.  He let out the most horrific moan, and blood started flowing from 
his mouth, then his nose, and then his eyes.  The girl started 
screaming and ran to the door, the only exit, only to find it locked.  
She looked back, for it was now silent.  The image before her caused 
her to turn back and attempt to claw her way through the door to escape 
the mutilated body behind her.  She let out a horrible screeching wail. 


I jolted up from my sleep to my own screaming.  My clothes sticking to
me from the sweating I had done while asleep.  Dreaming, oh God, just 
dreaming, I thought to myself as the realization that I was just 
dreaming set in. 

I looked around, not quite sure where I was and saw John asleep across
the bed.  Another realization set in, that I hadn't dreamt about 
earlier either.  I don't know if I really understood what had happened 
the evening before, though I knew my subconscious did from the 
terrifying dream that I'd had.  Just the thought of the dream brought 
back the petrifying images.  I was so nervous and couldn't think of 
anything to get my mind off of the tragedy.  I turned on the small 
thirteen inch television and turned it to channel twenty-five. 

~	...and in local news, a recent fatal car wreck is currently being
investigated. The accident included a thirty-eight year old local and 
another party.  All 	names are being withheld until family can be 
contacted.  A tox screen has 	been completed and has revealed that the 
local man had been driving 	drunk.  The accident was a head-on 
collision.  It was a miracle that the 	other passengers have survived, 
as far as we know.  The driver and/or 	passengers from the other 
vehicle have yet to be found.  More on this story 	as it develops...    
  ~ 

I stared at the screen in horror.  All the events from the past
twenty-four hours past through my mind in a panoramic sequence of 
events.  We had been so happy, we had gotten married, and then the 
happiness was stripped away from us, by a damned drunk driver, and we 
were now fugitives.  It was true, we had left the scene of an accident, 
and ran.  I became blinded by the fear of the crime that we had 
committed.  The, I remembered the statement that John had made as we 
were leaving the wreckage.  “Don't worry, it's not even my truck.”  
What on earth did he mean by that?  Did he steal it?  Did he borrow it 
from a friend, or what? 

I began to have second thoughts about the commitments and promises I'd
vowed only hours earlier.  I'm so young, this wasn't supposed to 
happen.  In a sort of daze, I rose from the edge of the bed, flinching 
at the sharp stab of pain in my stomach, hunger, and laid on my side of 
the cheap motel room bed.  I tried to sleep, hoping that the feeling of 
anxiety and fear would just melt away. 

John woke me up at seven in the morning.  I didn't mention the news
report to John.  I had so many feelings of fear still, even after the 
deep sleep.  I got dressed as did John and he sat down to watch the 
television.  He was watching one of about three channels that the TV 
picked up.  I picked up the phone book and looked up a cheap taxi 
service.  I dialed the number and John just paid me a single glance and 
saw me with the yellow pages open, and went about his business. 

“Hello, Big Bob's Taxi Service.  How may I be of service?” 

“Hi, yes.  I was wondering if you provide service out of the city?” 

“Oh, yes.  We provide for the entire county.  Do you need our
assistance?” 

“Yes, we are just outside the city at a motel.  The Tranquility Motel. 
I'm not sure of the address...” 

“Oh don't worry, I know right where it is.  Will you be paying in cash?”
he asked, wondering why anyone would degrade themselves that much to 
spend a night at that motel, of all of the motels. 

“Yes, of course.  Just pull up and honk.  We are in room 304.  Thank
you.”  I hung up the phone on the base.  “John, a cab's coming, it's on 
its way.”  We gathered our things together, and we watched TV, waiting 
for the cab 

Chapter 7 

I had been awaken from my sleep many times before.  Actually, come to
think of it, almost every night.  It was my mother's screaming that 
woke me up most times.  When I was younger I would turn on my radio in 
a hopeless attempt to drown out their domestic disputes.  I learned 
quickly that I shouldn't do that.  My father would barge through my 
door and punish me for it being too loud, even though I could barely 
hear the music myself. 

I don't know why he treats us this way.  I always watch what I say and
do so that he won't get mad at me, but he does anyway.  He always 
worked late.  Many late nights, he would come home from ‘work' and the 
all too well known scent of alcohol came in with him through the door.  
I knew then it was time to go to bed, no matter the hour. 

This night was different.  It was different in the way that my father
was pulling in the driveway and it still daylight.  Different in the 
way that he had an over whelming aromatic smell of drunkenness, even in 
the early hour. 

I was sitting on the well broken-in couch when he stumbled in the door. 
He looked around and yelled my mother's name, “Wendy.  Come here now”.  
I debated whether or not to go to my room now and decided it was the 
better thing to do. 

From my room, I could hear all of their screaming.  “Wendy, what the
hell were you thinking?  I go to work, working my ass off and then get 
laid-off in the process, and what do you do?  You sit on your lazy, 
good-for-nothing ass and let your son make messes.  Look at this crap 
lying everywhere.  You don't even have anything cleaned up before I get 
home.” 

I knew that was untrue about my mother not doing anything.  She was
really the only one who actually cleaned the house up.  I think 
cleaning got her mind off other things. 

I heard a scream, then a crash, glass shattering.  I knew I should've
stayed right there in my room, but I loved my mom and I needed to see 
if she was okay, even with the possibility of me getting ‘punished' for 
doing wrong.  I opened my door and slowly walked down the short hallway 
to see my dad bent over my mom.  She was lying in the coffee table 
frame, in which dad had apparently hit her and she fell through it.  
The tabletop was made of a really thick glass and I can imagine how 
hard he must've hit her.  He was just looking at her, saying he was 
sorry.  He had done this too many times to be truly sorry.  I ran to my 
mother's side and looked at her face.  There was a bright red spot on 
her left cheek.  I couldn't tell just by looking if she was okay.  I 
put my hand on her neck, like they taught us in health class, to see if 
she had a pulse. 

I felt nothing.  I looked at my father with the deepest stare that I
could.  “You killed her.  You bastard, you killed my mom.  How could 
you?  She loved you, I don't know how, but she did.” 

I stood up, shaking my head in disbelief.  The images of past memories
and times that were shared between us flashed in front of my eyes.  I 
was caught off guard.  She's gone, I can't believe she gone.  I said to 
myself as if to prove to myself that never again could I ask her for 
help on my homework or if she could sign my parental consent to go on 
field trips with my class. 

My father stood up and started coming towards me with that look on his
face.  Normally, when he had that look, I would just stand and take 
what was coming to me, what I deserved.  A realization that I didn't 
deserve it nor did my mother set in.  How could we deserve it? 

I ran to my room and grabbed my bat leaned up against the inside of my
closet.  I ran into the hall to face my father.  I met him in the 
hallway, and his expression changed slightly then back to that certain 
visage.  “What are you gonna do boy?  I didn't mean to hurt your 
mother.  I swear I didn't, but your gonna get an ass whopping.” 

He started his way closer and I raised the bat. 

Lots of times I would go to the weight lifting room after school on the
days that my father was off from work.  I really liked lifting weights, 
just to pass time.  At fifteen, I was more muscular than a lot of the 
other guys at school.  Even bigger than many that were older than I.  I 
compared myself to my father's physique; he had a big gut and was only 
a couple of inches taller than me.  I wondered how my mom felt looking 
up at him, she being only 5'2 and pretty petite, when he was hitting 
her.  I wondered if she would go off into a sunny place in her mind and 
focus on the sunflowers and rainbows. 

He wasn't as intimidating at that moment that I had leverage over him. 
I started towards him.  When he saw me coming, I saw a new look in his 
eyes, fear.  He was realizing I wasn't the little boy that he once took 
advantage of almost everyday.  He started to back up.  He had sobered 
up a little from what he had done to mom.  He was now totally aware of 
what was going to happen to him.  He stumbled backward over my mom's 
leg and fell to the floor.  “Now, son, I love you, why are you doing 
this?” 

“I'm doing this because you've ‘loved' me so much the past fifteen
years, I thought I'd return the favor.” 

I swung the bat with a lot of force to his right leg.  He howled in
pain.  I smiled.  I beat his other leg.  He put his hand down there as 
if he were going to prevent me from hitting it, I just hit his hand 
along with it.  He screamed aloud again and pulled it back and cradling 
it.  The look on his face would stay with me forever.  That look is 
what gave me the feeling that I had given him my vengeance.  But, it 
couldn't stop there.  No, it couldn't.  I walked closer to him and hit 
him in his lower chest with as much strength as I could.  I heard the 
air escape his lungs and his struggle to pull more in.  He glanced at 
me once more and I stroke him four more times in the head.  Blood 
spattered all over the place.  I smiled. 

I went and grabbed a rag and cleaned the prints off of the bat and laid
it in his bedroom.  I went out side their window and wrapped my shirt 
inside out around my arm.  I busted the window in and opened it.  I 
looked up at the cloudless Arizona sky and breathed in the fresh air.  
I took off my clothes and buried them, along with the rag, in the back 
yard of our neighbor's, about three houses down.  All I had on was my 
boxers.  I calmly went back to the house, so quiet.  I got into bed and 
fell asleep fast.  It was the best night's sleep that I'd had in a very 
long time.  I was awoken the next day to my neighbor's scream.  She had 
come over to check on my mom as she usually did, she was always worried 
he would hurt her.  She always told her to turn him in to the police 
about the abuse, but she loved him too much.  She always had.  I got up 
and got dressed as I always did and walked to the living room.  I 
looked at my parents and fainted.


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