Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

To Run Away From Your Own Lies

Syler spits a wad of thick saliva to the ground and draws back for another.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!” Richard snarls loudly, pointing a finger menacingly towards him, which causes him to awkwardly swallow the mouthful, on which he begins choking moments later to Richard’s delight.

“Serves you right, you tard!” he hisses with a callous grin.

Syler stares at him with an intense panic written across his face as he desperately searches for a breath.

Quickly the smile falls from Richard’s lips as he realises Syler’s panic, and he rushes to his side, firmly planting three powerful consecutive slaps to his back, but they do little to quell the panic in Syler’s eyes.

Richard grips him by the collar and thrusts a knee into the centre of his chest, quickly following it up with another two for good measure. Syler’s eyes bulge forcefully out from their sockets as his face is now a bright shade of blue. He points at his throat, gagging violently. Without a moment’s thought, Richard drops his pants and thrusts his hardening penis into Syler’s mouth until he vomits the contents of his stomach over his engorged cock. Richard staggers back, his hands outstretched to his side as the smell of garbage wafts up his nose. Syler dry retches twice more as he rocks back and forth on all fours, sucking in desperate breath after desperate breath.

“T-T-Thank you,” Syler stammers through trembling lips. “T-T-Th—”

“DON’T SAY ANOTHER FUCKING WORD!” Richard bellows, as he casts a stony glare down at Syler. “J-JUST BE FUCKING QUIET FOR THE NEXT TEN MINUTES!”

Seconds quickly pass into minutes as the two gather themselves silently together and climb back into the car.

“I-I-I…”

Richard throws a thunderous left hook into Syler’s jaw, followed by another into his stomach.

“WHAT PART OF SHUTTING THE FUCK UP DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?”

“I-I—”

Richard hits him again, “I DON’T WANT YOU TO FUCKING ANSWER THE QUESTION, IT WOULDN’T MAKE SENSE NOW, WOULD IT?”

Syler rubs his swollen jaw and nods his head in sorrowful agreement.

“Now open up your window, it smells like a backpacker’s toilet in here,” he spits as he quickly winds his window down, Syler following suit.

He squeezes the steering wheel tightly before turning the key, only to find the car failing to respond.

“FUCKING GREAT!” he screams as he starts hitting the steering wheel and driver side door with wild punches. Syler grabs his hands, trying desperately to restrain him, only to have him turn his anger towards him once more. He throws punch after punch into Syler, who tries unsuccessfully to protect himself, catching most of the punches with his face.

“LEAVE ME ALONE YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” he screams, as he collapses back in his seat while a cascade of tears stream down his face. “J-J-Just leave me the fuck alone, yo-you’ve done enough damage tonight.”

More minutes of silence pass, as Syler gently places his hand on the gear stick and shifts it into park.

“L-Let me help h-heal it,” he says softly, as they both stare forward and Richard turns the key once more, bringing the car to life.

“I-I, I need time to process everything,” he says softly.

“I tried to tell you ages ago about my gag reflex, I-I—”

Richard grabs Syler by the face and squeezes his mouth shut.

“This isn’t about your fucking gag reflex, this is about us killing my fucking wife and you leaving DNA evidence behind, OKAY!”

“S-S-S-Sorry, I forgot,” Syler says through his tightly clenched lips as he casts an awkward glance at Fiona’s dead body that sits propped up in the back seat—