The Animal…Can there be a Holiday?

I’m not certain evil takes a day off and especially not an actually holiday, but I can imagine there are down times. Then again…rage and demonic need takes no backseat. Now does it? I think our inner beast comes out when we least expect and often when its most inconvenient. Various aspects of life drive me nuts, often to the point I could lash out uncontrollably and it certainly doesn’t matter what’s going on around me.

I’m highlighting yet another piece from The Animal. I’m so happy the stories are so varied, showcasing all types of evil that exist in the world. P and M Mattern area  duo who truly feed off of one another. Hint… Take a big ole bite out of…


Waking up pinned to the floor with the taste of blood in my mouth wasn’t how I wanted to The Animal FInal Concept Coverstart my vacation.

My hands were bound and my face was pressed into the 300-thread-count, cream Berber carpet. I had some time to reflect. I heard one of the men pulling out and dumping dresser drawers in the bedroom. He was the one that scared me the most—he looked liked Sasquatch and, from his ongoing testimonial, preferred anal sex over all other options.

His companions were an auburn-haired guy with asymmetric features I dubbed “Inbred,” and my neighbor, Todd; the handsome, blonde, young man had been so polite to me in the hallways. They were busy tearing apart the living room furniture looking for more paper money and jewelry they would never find.

In the background, Goldfrapp was singing about a stranger through the stereo. To this day, I can’t stand to listen to them.

Todd, the part-time personal trainer had come to my door just as I was about to leave for the airport. It was my first vacation since the divorce had been finalized and I was ready to celebrate. He had asked for directions, explaining that I-75 was closed due to a truck spilling over 20 million gallons of a chemical that combines with rain to make hydrochloric acid.

He asked me about alternative routes to Lexington. I was about to suggest US-33 when he pushed me backwards and I hit the back of my head on the closet door behind me. His buddies rushed in from behind him, then closed the door and locked it.

They each had one of my arms pinned when he ran over to my purse and dumped it on the couch, sticking my cell phone and wallet in his pocket. The one I call Sasquatch hit me across the face so hard I saw stars, then shoved a rag in my mouth and tied a bandana over it to gag me.

The inbred one was tearing at my clothes. Sasquatch zip-tied my hands behind me and dragged me by my heel to the center of the room.

Inbred climbed on first. His penis was so small and I was so out of it I couldn’t even feel him and he only lasted a minute.

After Inbred was done, Sasquatch flipped me over without ceremony.

That was painful. I made noises in spite of being gagged and I wasn’t even trying to. He took a little longer, and the other two ignored him while they rifled through my desk. They dumped out a box I’d meant to take to the dumpster and started loading up electronics in it. A rusty vintage meat grinder landed on the carpet with a thud.

Todd was bragging. My neighbor in 4B had told him I was going away. He watched me load up my two dogs, huskies named Zephyr and Rust, in my Prius and drop them off at the kennel for two weeks. I came back and got ready to go to the Caribbean. That’s when he called his friends in.

With a laugh, Todd came over and turned me over. He dropped his pants and stood over me so I could get a clear view of the underside of his veiny member.

“Nice, right?” he asked, as if I could answer him with a gag in my mouth.

He kicked my legs apart and knelt between them, tearing away my blouse to suck my tits.

“Nice tits,” he said as he shoved his cock between my legs and then, “Hey Brody, come watch me fuck this bitch!”

The inbred dropped the Waterford crystal glass he was holding as he went through the china cabinet. It shattered on the floor, and he strode over and stared at Todd’s ass as he screwed me.

bad menWhat was I thinking? A million things. Part of me was trying to reverse time so that I never opened my apartment door to Todd in the first place. I flashed to that moment dozens of times as I laid there.

Part of me was celebrating that I was still alive.

Part of me was despairing because not only had I seen their faces, but I knew who Todd was. I didn’t imagine they would let me live.

As if he could read my thoughts, Sasquatch said, “Can I do her now?”

I didn’t want to move, much less turn my head, but there he was in my peripheral vision, winding the end of one of my extension cords over his hand. In spite of my numbness, I knew what was coming.

I wondered how long it would take. How it felt to have your breath cut off. How long the pain and discomfort lasted as you thrashed about, trying to get away from the pressure, wanting to breathe more than anything you’d ever wanted in your entire life.

But Todd had a better idea. He had finished his business and stood looking down.

“Knock her ass out,” he told Sasquatch.

My last thought was that he was trying to save me some pain, and as bizarre as it sounds, I was grateful when the blow landed upon my head.




I was in and out of consciousness, but I thought I might have died. My surroundings were pitch black and filled with exhaust fumes.

When they opened the trunk, all I saw were moving shadows. I heard dogs barking. Between the shadows, light beamed from the kind of starlit sky you only find way outside of the city.

One of them reached in and jerked the scarf down, allowing me to gag out the spit-soaked piece of cloth they’d shoved in my mouth.

I couldn’t stop coughing.

One of them hauled me out by my numb, bound hands and Todd said, “Give her some water.”

It was hard to swallow as someone held a plastic water bottle to my lips. I ended up gagging some of it back up.

The pit bulls barked louder as they shoved me through a ramshackle weighted gate and up a stone pathway toward a six-panel door.

Sasquatch led the way. He shoved the door open and, reaching inside, switched on the single naked bulb. In an instant, the porch light attracted a throng of flying insects.

They dragged me to the kitchen. My feet were bare and I was still naked from the waist down. There were newspapers all over the floor. To my right was a sink with separate hot and cold water taps beside an avocado-colored refrigerator that belonged in the 60’s.

It reeked of urine and mildew.

To my left was a narrow hallway before a decrepit, white, built-in china cabinet and a potbellied woodstove. The inbred grabbed my wrists and cut the zip ties off in one motion, shoving me toward a darkened doorway beyond.

“Bathroom’s thattaway, sis,” he said. “Clean yer ass up.”

My wrists burned as I searched along the wall for a light switch and fumbled across one. The mirrored medicine cabinet in front of me was smeared, but I was still shocked by my reflection.

My left cheek was bluish purple below a black eye with the same colors. The bottom of one side of my lip was split and swollen. My hair, once perfectly coiffed for my flight, hung in sweat-soaked and blood-tinged tendrils to my shoulders.

But more than that, it was the haunted look in my eyes that caused a gorge to rise in my throat.

It felt like taking care of someone else. I grabbed one of the tattered washcloths from a basket of threadbare towels under the sink and washed my aching face with the ivory soap. I pulled my ripped blouse over my head and unhooked my bra. Grabbing another cloth, I washed myself from head to toe, even sticking my hair under the tap. By the time I had finished I felt more clear-headed, even though I had found a goose egg on the back of my head from being knocked out.

I was pulling my blouse back over my head and barely pulled it down over my hips when the door behind me slammed open.

It was Todd.

“Love the new look,” he said, taking in my disheveled appearance. “Here’s some clothes I found.”

I didn’t trust myself to answer. He closed the door and I noticed it didn’t have a latch. The clothing he’d tossed in consisted of a pair of shorts and a unisex Henley shirt. They smelled dusty. I put them on anyway.

Without taking too much time, I looked around for possible weapons. I found a wire soap-holder hanging over the side of the dirty claw-foot tub. Other than that, the metal towel holders showed potential. That was pretty much it.

Feeling a bit terrified are we?

Kisses and thoughts of murder…


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About Cassandre Dayne

Cassandre Dayne is the pseudo for the best selling author of romantic suspense and thrillers
This entry was posted in Booktrope, creatures of the night, EDGE, horror, serial killer, thriller and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Animal…Can there be a Holiday?

  1. Francis Loveday says:

    Sorta numb , sorta tingling ………feeling confusingly ‘ aware ‘ of something ……….


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