Evil Little Fucks by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sinister Smile Press
Published: 2024-04-12T00:00:00+00:00

The next four weeks passed in a blur of excitement for Ginny. She had excelled at slipping away from home unnoticed after her chores were done. Tommy and Jeff had started asking questions, Jeff more so because he felt like Ginny belonged to him, was supposed to do everything with him. Being a twin was a pain in the ass. Ginny hated it more every day. Tommy asked a few times where she kept disappearing to, but she was able to throw him off track with stories about going to Lara’s house or to the library. Neither were things Tommy nor Jeff wanted to do.

The trestle had become her secret spot. Ginny had amassed several dozen apples that were waiting for her in a rusty pail. A large pile of rocks sat beside it as she found that she was pretty good at dropping the stones from between the boards and watching the cars and trucks swerve and wreck trying to dodge whatever was being thrown at them. She had taken out three pickup trucks, two more vans, a big moving truck, and an empty school bus.

No dead bodies but plenty of dented hoods, flat tires, and hopping-mad drivers. Watching their reaction was the best part. They would stagger around, clutching heads, arms, or shoulders, bleeding from shallow injuries. Dazed expressions, angry curse words, the customary walk around their vehicle to see the damage and the cause. The bewildered ranting as they found nothing but splattered apples on the pavement or a random rock. There was never anything more to find, and no one had ever spotted her.

Ginny was eager for blood, though. She wanted to see one really bad accident. She wanted to see a person come through the windshield or fall from the open door of their wrecked car, dead and bloody. She wanted to scramble down the embankment and get close enough to touch them. To stick her fingers in their blood, stare into empty eyes, poke and prod their dead flesh.

She wanted to experience that rush. That ultimate high of knowing you held their life in your hands, that you could call for help or put pressure on their wounds, knowing you could help, but would not. Ginny wanted to see the hope fade from their eyes as they realized that help was not coming. She wanted to smile at them as they finally understood that Ginny was not their savior, but their executioner. She wanted to watch as they breathed their last breath and died in a heap on the pavement. Killed by crab apples and a little girl.

She grinned as she imagined the scene playing out in her head. Giggled out loud as she loaded her pockets with apples and palm-sized rocks, then set out across the bridge. Ginny had discovered two weeks ago that Sunday was a much better day for the Crab Apple Game as the nearby folks would be traveling to and from the local churches. Traffic was never busy, and Ginny always had at least a half dozen cars to choose from before and after church hours.

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