Monster_A Novel of Extreme Horror and Gore by Matt Shaw & Michael Bray

Author:Matt Shaw & Michael Bray [Shaw, Matt & Bray, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-03-08T05:00:00+00:00

P A R T T W O

HOW TO MAKE A MONSTER

CHAPTER FIVE

Pain.

Her face felt as if it had been crushed by a sledgehammer. In a way it had. Her husband’s fist being the hammerhead. She heard glass shatter seconds before becoming aware that she had fallen through the coffee table. Blood dripped form her slashed skin onto the carpet, tiny claret beads on a backdrop of brown.

Fistful of her hair, then being dragged, more pain, legs kicking. Richard shouting louder. Another punch in the stomach for good measure, winding her, stopping the screams, stopping the-

Baby

-noise.

Another slap, this time to the other cheek. She could feel her face already swelling, the pain like fire. She was moving again, thrown into the bathroom, losing a shoe, half falling, half sliding, slamming into the side of the bath.

A snap.

Broken collar bone for sure.

Dazed.

Confused.

This isn’t supposed to be happening. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be happy. He was supposed to understand. She had waited four months to tell him. Waited until she couldn’t hide the bump anymore. He was supposed to be happy.

Not like this.

Not like this.

Not like this.

He was shouting again, his words fuzzy, hard to understand. Something about betrayal. Something about cleaning her filthy lying mouth. Something about killing the bastard thing inside her.

Oh god.

Panic, hot and prickly, a ball of fire in her gut. But too late to act, too late to do anything.

Another fist, mashing nose into face, a white shard of bloody tooth arcing across the room.

I’m going to die.

She was absolutely certain of it. She had made a huge mistake, an error of judgment which was about to cost her - her life. Right eye almost swollen shut, left blurred but still working.

Able to see.

To see him as he pulls bottles out of the cabinet, see him searching under the sink.

His leering face.

Good god he’s smiling.

Handful of her hair, pulling her up.

Legs won’t support her though, too weak. Collapses back down, back into the side of the bath. Ribs hurting, collar bone on fire. But not enough to hide the fear. That she can taste, mingled with the blood in the back of her throat. A bitter taste, one she thought she knew but was only really discovering for the first time now, here at the end of her life.

Something in his hand.

A bottle. The smell burning her nostrils, making her flinch away.

Bleach.

Bottle to her mouth, trying to make her drink. Burning as it touches her wounds, more fuel to the fire. She squeezes her lips closed, but he only seems to enjoy it more. Him cackling now like a hyena. A kick to the stomach is all it takes, heavy size ten boot to midriff. She opens her mouth in a half gasp, half scream, then that liquid is being poured in.

She panics.

Can’t breathe.

Can’t breathe.

She swallows, an instinctive reaction.

Gags, tries to vomit, but he’s still pouring, still laughing like some kind of deranged beast.

She swallows again, choking now, bleach coming out of her nostrils.

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