Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Candle Burns with a Flame

“I knew it was wrong,” he says, looking at his blood-stained shoes. “But the fucker deserved it.”

“Really? Tell me,” she says. He looks up, into her eyes, and swallows.

“He was a jerk. He wouldn’t let me in. He was big-noting himself to all the girls, thought he was something special. But he bled out, quick too, like all the others…” He stops and looks back down.

“Others?”

He sits there in silence. His mind races as he tightens his hands into fists, digging his fingernails into his flesh. He bites down on his lip and looks back up. “He wasn’t the first.”

“How many more?”

“Eight.”

“Eight?”

“That’s what I said. You asked how many. I said eight.”

“And their bodies?”

“Gone. Somewhere they’ll never be found.”

“Who were they?”

“Jerks, like him. They all deserved what I did. They were all scum.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know.”

He sits there, staring at her, contemplating his next move. His eyes dart around the room quickly, then back to her, and he smiles. “Rosa. She was my first. I went through high school with the bitch, always acting like she was better than she actually was. Her family was nothing but gutter trash, but she acted like they were royalty. I ran into her one night while she was waiting tables at Big Bev’s Tits and Arse. She’d lost her shine, but she was still pretentious. So, I waited for her shift to finish. Poor bitch didn’t even see me coming. I took her down and dragged her back home, gutted the bitch under candlelight. Then, once I was done, I poured the melted wax over her. It rushed into the holes I’d carved, and then I fucked her.”

“Why?”

“Because it got me fucking hot.”

“And the candle?”

“I haven’t worked for six months, so there’s nothing to pay the bills with.”

“What else did it make you feel?”

“Alive,” he says, a broad grin on his face.

“And that’s why you did it again? For the thrill?”

He slams his fist onto the table. “This is not a psych evaluation. I’ve been to those. What do you want? Why all the questions? What are you hoping to achieve?”

“An understanding, that’s all. You got sloppy. I want to know if it’s because your ego became over-inflated, or you just lashed out because you needed to. Your cycle became stalled, didn’t it?”

“My fucking what?”

“Your cycle. The system you follow to select your kills. It obviously became stalled, and this Hermon Daniels unfortunately bore the brunt of your anxiety.”

“What sort of cop are you? The gory details get you off? I’m not saying another word until you give me my phone call. I know my rights!”

She laughs. “Really? You think I’m a cop?”

Once again, he stares at her silently, lost for words. “W-W-Who the fuck are y-you?”

“Finally,” she says, leaning onto the table. “It took you long enough to ask the one question you should’ve asked in the fucking beginning. Although I’m quite sure you’re not going to like the answer,” she says with a wild, broad grin.