Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Mother Always Said

The tap drips, and the lights flicker erratically. Bugs—hundreds, if not thousands of them—scurry across the ceiling, feasting on one another in an orgy of violence and reproduction. The once-white bathtub now sits filled with black, stagnant water. Its enameled flesh is cracked and scarred, coated in tar and grime.

She huddles in the corner, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. Her bottom lip trembles as she closes her eyes. A stuttering breath escapes her lips as he crawls toward her, spider-like, across the floor.

He drags the knife behind him, scraping it along the tiles. She peeks out from the corner of her eye, her breath catching in her chest as she glimpses the blade glimmering in the light.

She screams hysterically, pulling her head away as her breaths become desperate and erratic. Tears cascade down her cheeks. He growls and hisses, sniffing her from head to toe. His teeth nibble on her flesh here and there, before eventually sinking them in deep, tearing a meaty chunk from her thigh.

The jagged imprint of his bite burns on her skin as her screams only grow louder. He backs away, crouching a few feet from her, a twisted grin splitting his lips.

“Mother said you weren’t to be trusted,” he whispers through clenched, bloody teeth. “That you didn’t have my best interests at heart. She said you were a whore who couldn’t keep her legs shut. Was she right?”

Her sobs grow louder, her head shaking as she trembles. “Calvin, please—”

“PLEASE?” he roars, his voice cracking with rage. “You think begging me will undo this? Undo what you’ve done?” He slams his open hand against the tiled floor, the sound reverberating through the room like thunder. She flinches, her breath more desperate than moments before.

He lunges forward, slamming his forehead into hers. “I ASKED YOU IF SHE WAS RIGHT! ARE YOU A WHORE?”

“NO!” she screams, shoving her hands into his face, forcing him away.

He growls, grabbing her wrists and thrusting them aside. His lip curls, his nose scrunches, and a deep growl rumbles in his chest.
“I don’t believe you,” he whispers, his lips trembling. “I think she was right. I think you are a whore,” he spits.

She grits her teeth, baring them. “Not wanting to sleep with you doesn’t make me a whore, Calvin! I didn’t love you like that! I didn’t want you! But you couldn’t let it go, could you? You couldn’t accept the truth, even when I told you no! For God’s sake, Calvin, I’m your si—”

Her words are cut short as Calvin lets out an almighty scream.

“There is no place for GOD HERE!” he roars as he clasps a hand around her throat, lifting her to her feet, then off the ground. She claws at his grip desperately, and when she realises she can’t free herself that way, she starts tearing wildly at his face.

But he only smiles before slamming her into the wall—once, twice, each impact more violent than the last. The repeated blows knock the wind and fight from her. Then, he pins her trembling form against the cold tiles, leans in close, and presses his lips against her ear.

“She said you didn’t love me,” he whispers. “She said you were a whore. I knew she was right, but I had to be sure.”

“P-Please—” she gasps as her world spins.

He licks the side of her face and drives the knife into her chest. Her breaths become laboured, caught, as her heart cries out in desperate agony. He stares into her eyes, a crooked grin on his lips.

“Mother always said you didn’t love me. She always said you were a whore. She said you were always that way. She said you got it from Daddy, not her!” he hisses as he pulls the blade free.

He smiles softly as she takes her final, wet breaths, then drags the blade across his own throat.