Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

I Dragged Your Arse Along, Because You Belong

A short horror by Matthew Tonks

A small family dinner turns into a slow, intimate unravelling—old apologies become talismans that will not be honoured, and a promise keeps holding like a cold, patient thing. The house tightens around him until there is nowhere left to hide.

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He clears his throat and swallows a dry mouthful—gagging, as if forcing a bucket of razor blades down his throat. He grimaces. The rest of his lips curl into an almost-smile, then he closes his eyes and lets out a stuttered breath.

Debbie sits across from him. Her gaze cuts straight through him. He turns and looks behind himself, hoping to spy something unusual. But there’s nothing of significance to warrant such intense viewing.

He turns back to her and smiles. She sighs and looks away. His lips fall flat, curling the wrong way.

“You could say something,” he hisses through clenched teeth. His words vanish like a non-event—not even sparking in the dullest of suns. He thumps the table three times, reckless and final. The room’s chatter drowns into silence, cold and complete.

A sneer trembles across his lips. His eyes fall on every set staring at him, ending with her.

Her smile widens, and she laughs.

“Well?” she asks after a few silent moments, splaying her hands. “You’ve grabbed our attention. Obviously you have something to say—so say it. Bore us. Thrill us. But don’t waste our time and then present us with nothing.”

He swallows nervously as a sea of sweat breaks out across his brow.

“I-I-I,” he stammers, as panic once again drags silence upon him.

She shakes her head and sighs. “Take his plate away. Take it all. Show him his true position in this family. Show him where he truly belongs, in—”

Her words are cut short as he throws himself to his feet, sending his chair tumbling to the floor as he pounds the table—three times again. No more, no less.

Her smile grows, and she laughs.

“There you are,” she coos, staring into his void-filled eyes.

The room gasps. Several bodies collapse to the floor. Another two scramble away screaming. William wets himself and sobs. Sarah stiffens, her face twisting in a grotesque fashion as her body seizes with something resembling a stroke. Debbie sits opposite him, her smile growing.

“W-W-What’s happening? W-what did you d-do to me?” he stammers through distorted, disembodied lips.

“I did nothing but bring you home for Christmas, like I told you I would. Remember? No matter what,” she arrogantly scoffs.

“B-B-But it feels wrong. I-I-I, I feel wrong. W-What have you done?”

“Oh honey,” she says with a painted-on frown across her grinning lips. “I did nothing. But you—you did it all,” she says, as she pulls out a folded piece of paper from her jacket pocket, unfolds it, and places it on the table. A trembling tear tumbles down his cheek, as he knows the words written on it—words in his own hand.

He falls back into his seat, his eyes transfixed on the piece of paper.

Its corners curl, worn from too many readings. But he doesn’t need to read it again. He knows every line—they’re already tattooed on the inside of his skull. He’d written them more times than he could count. They were carved into his flesh before they ever became words on paper.

At first, he thought of them as an apology. Later, as a list of regrets. But in their finality—his finality—they were just words, a plea, a cry, a demand to be left alone—something even now, in death, he cannot have.

“P-P-Please,” he stammers.

“I told you. I promised you—you’d never be alone, and not even death will break that promise. You’re mine, until I decide you can be free,” she purrs, a cruel smile curling across her lips. She holds out the bonbon and waits for him to take it.

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💬 Did this one echo?
Tell me—before it forgets your name.

—
Written by Matthew Tonks
→ Read more nightmares at mtonks.com

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