2. Wilder

Chapter 2

Wilder

P eople are so fuckin’ stupid. Either that or they just don’t give a shit and do whatever they want, anyway. Take, for example, the poor fucker that's lying on my dining room table before me. This piece of shit got in between me getting my cock sucked by the pretty blonde at the gas station. So, my way of saying thanks is to slit his gut from the navel to the sternum.

He whines through his gag as I sit in my Mere’s arms chair, my sharpening stone in one hand and the straight razor in the other. The sound of the blade gliding across the stone brings a strange satisfaction. “Ya can shut da fuck up now, you,” I say, my eyes narrowing on him. “Ain’t no one ‘round for miles, see. Jus me and my brother.”

Ollie’s been gone way too long for him to be finding us something to eat.

“Ya know, I’d hate to spoil my appetite, but you’s got to go,” I say, hoisting myself up from the chair. I approach him, flicking the razor open and closed, in a menacing like gesture. The stench of shit fills the air. I lean over him, a snarl on my face. “Did you shit on my Mere table, you dirty fuckin’ pig?”

The man’s eyes widen as I raise the blade to his face. He shakes his head back and forth, begging me to leave him alone. “Now, how we suppose to eat on this 'ere table now that you gone and shit on it? Huh?” I bring the blade to his bloated stomach, ready to cut into him .

Before I can make my move, the door slams open. “What the fuck you about to do on dat der table?” Ollie stops dead, a decent-sized gator slung over his shoulder. “I know you’s not ‘bout to cut him open where we eat. Come on now Wild,” Ollie suggests, adjusting the gator on his shoulder as he heads towards the kitchen.

“At least take’em down to da cellar. It be easier to clean up down der.”

He’s right. Ollie, despite being the younger twin, is the smarter one. “Alright, I’ll take’em down,” I concede. “What you gonna do with dat der, gator?” I ask, my stomach growling at the thought of food.

“Gator stew, just like Mémé used to make us,” Ollie smirks. He's also a better cook.

“Sounds good. You get on that while I take care of this ‘ere, fucker.” I untie his hands and feet, grabbing him by his ankles and, with a swift tug, pulling him off the table. I drag him across the living space, over to the cellar door. The man claws at the floor, trying his best to gain some traction on the wood floor. “Come on now, you. Stop fightin’ and let’s get dis over with.”

With my foot, I push the cellar door open and start heading down the steps backward, dragging him along. He holds on to the doorframe and tries to keep himself from following. “Got damn you!” I shout, and I give him a hard pull and his body lifts a little. A muffled scream comes from behind the gag, getting louder when I try to pull him again.

“Aw shit, I forgot about da nail pokin’ out da step. Looks like it got you good, though.” I take a moment to assess the situation, realizing that the man’s struggle has caused the nail on the step to become lodged in his eye socket. A twisted part of me finds a sick satisfaction in this.

Reluctantly, I release his legs and maneuver him off of the nail. Blood pools from the wound onto the step. His eye is a mangled mess. Part of it hangs out after pulling him away from the nail. I grasp the hanging bit and pull the eye right out.

The man screams as I chuck the eye over the railing to the cellar floor. “That’ll make da rats happy.” I take a deep breath and decide to abandon my original plan of killing him right away. Instead, I take a step back and assess my options.

“Alright, you lucky fucker,” I mutter, my voice filled with a mix of frustration and annoyance. “You gettin’ off easy dis time.”

I untie his gag, allowing him to speak. He gasps for air, his voice strained. “My … My eye. Please... just let me go. I won’t tell nobody about this. I promise.”

A part of me considers his plea, but the anger and frustration still simmer within me. I can’t let him leave after ruining my plans and disrespecting my Mere’s table.

“No one can know about dis,” I say, my voice cold and determined. “But you not leaving here either.”

A dim light illuminates the small, musty room as we reach the bottom. I find a rusty chain hanging from a hook on the wall and secure it around his wrists. Picking him up, I hoist him up onto the hook. I step back, observing him for a moment, contemplating my next move.

“You gonna stay ‘ere til I decide what ta do wit you,” I state. A coldness to my words makes him whimper. “Consider it a reprieve, but don’ think for a second dat you off da hook.” I chuckle aloud. “Get it? Off da hook, ‘cos you on one.”

His eyes widen with fear, and I can sense his desperation. He pleads with me once more, promising to do anything to be set free. But I turn away, leaving him alone in the icy darkness of the cellar.

As I ascend the stairs, the aroma of gator stew fills the air, reminding me of Ollie’s culinary skills. The evening’s events left me ravenous, yet oddly satisfied.

I join Ollie in the kitchen, ready to indulge in a meal that will temporarily distract me from the disturbing scene I’ve left behind.

The pot of stew sits between us as we silently consume our meal. Ollie looks up, watching me slurp away at the stew. “Dis is good,” I mutter, licking the heavy broth from my lips. He nods. My brother is a man of few words, ever since our parents died. “We need to find us a woman. That way we won’ be so alone in dis here house. Mere always said that the key to a pleasant home is a good woman.”

“Speakin’ of women. While I was out gettin’ da gator, I saw a young’un, who had ta be at least seventeen. She was wid a young boy, a brother I’m guessin’” Ollie reaches for the ladle to serve more stew. I hold out my bowl for a refill.

“Was she good lookin’?” I ask my attention now on this.

“She was. Dark brown hair, pretty face, nice child bearin’ hips.” Ollie scoots his chair back to get up. “Look like she was hiking, so maybe she campin’.”

I sit and think on it for a moment. Could dis be da one for us?

Ollie comes back in with a pitcher of sweet tea. He cocks a brow as he pours me and then himself a glass. “Don’t be thinkin’ too hard, over der. You gon kill off da rest of your brain cells.”

I give him the finger. “You t'ink we can get her? You t'ink she’d make a good woman for us?”

The smile that creeps across my brother’s face tells me his answer. “We’ll head out after I take care of da shithead downstairs. You think you remember which way dey went?”

“Sure do.” He says, taking a sip of his tea. “We might have to spill some blood ta get her.”

I push back my chair, leaving my refilled bowl untouched. I chug the glass of tea and wipe my mouth wid da back of my tattooed hand. My feet echo as I make my way ‘round the table. I bend and kiss the top of my brother’s head. “Thanks for cooking, Ollie. Lemme deal with dis, then we’ll go.”

Leaving Ollie at the table, I make my way back down the dimly lit cellar. The air feels heavy with anticipation as I approach the captive figure hanging from the rusty hook. His desperate pleas for freedom fall on deaf ears as I grip the chain, tightening my hold. The icy darkness seems to amplify his fear, and I savor the power it gives me.

A plan forms in my mind as I imagine the possibilities that lie ahead. This woman, this young girl with dark brown hair, could be the answer to our loneliness. She can take care of the carnal urges we need to fulfill. Have our babies and make this old house a home again. Even if we gotta kill to get her.

“You is gettin’ off very lucky, you. We got plans and I don’ need you hangin’ ‘round making noise and shit. Ha, get it? Hanging around.” I flick the straight razor open and cut him from navel to neck. The blade is so sharp it has no trouble cutting through the layers of flesh. He dies almost immediately from the shock. I typically like to take my time in killing, but tonight is different. I wanna find this girl. The urge to get my dick wet is strong.

I step back and admire the man, his guts now hanging on the outside. Then the stench hits my senses. His body releases its bowels again. “You really is a disgusting pig, you.” I pull out a cloth and cover my nose as I walk back up the stairs.