The Terror View: Visions Of A Killer by Reina Torrence

Author:Reina Torrence [Torrence, Reina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blue Diamond Publishing
Published: 2022-10-02T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter eleven

Sibling Rivalry

Less than ten miles across the city from where Kayla and Jeff frantically searched the dark woods, Mikey Meadows stepped out of the shower at The Blue Bell Motel. He picked up the towel, which had seen better days and was still damp from earlier use. Its roughness was nothing new to him because he’d never had a chance to become accustomed to the comforts of life. Not like his sister, Kayla.

He smiled evilly, remembering his most recent exploits, that last look of abject terror in their eyes before the kill. He’d been covered in their blood. As he grew more accomplished, he learned how to cut corners, and how to perfect his craft. Instead of using his own clothes, for instance, he visited thrift stores and bought second hand which could be disposed of without too much soul-searching afterward when they became covered in unavoidable evidence.

He could never have imagined that he would enjoy himself quite so much. Killing had become his passion and gave him pleasure that outweighed sex. It was the total package, and the more times he did it, the better he became. He had killer instincts, developed in childhood, which was no surprise considering his early years.

He and Kayla had been born into a worthless, shiftless pair. Always totally swimming in cheap booze and high as kites on whatever drugs they could buy from their weekly welfare benefits, the kids were left mostly to their own devices. Except for those times when Jim Meadows decided to have some fun with his son, but that didn’t equate to the same experience for Mikey.

Mikey was seven years older than Kayla and could usually be found in the tiny room on his filthy mattress where he lived out his young life. He would wait until they both became insensible and then creep along to the fridge to scavenge any food he could find. Every bone on his body could be seen. His hair was long and matted with dirt, his body smelled of bodily odors which should have been washed away but instead had become part of who he was. He had few clothes, and they never got washed. He’d never seen a book, never had a bedtime story, and if his tiny body had been x-rayed, there’d multiple evidence of broken bones which had been left to mend themselves.

“Mikeeee….. Mikeeee…….” This would be followed by a deranged cackle from Shirley, his mother, whose only claim to that title was that she had physically given birth to him seven long years ago. The boy knew that it was easier for him, less painful in the long run, if he responded to his jailer’s taunts and would dutifully obey, legs trembling so much in anticipation of what was to come.

Entertainment for the couple would vary slightly from time to time. “Dance, monkey! Dance for us!” The first time Mikey received this command, he was at a loss about what to do. He didn’t know what dance meant. He looked up at his father for a clue.

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