Finger Nails by Herb
|
|
Warning: The author has noted that this contains strong violence. Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language. He stood at the sink in the foodless kitchen; nothing wholesome here. His fingers were raw and had started to bleed. “Wash and scrub, wash and scrub.” An hour passed and still the scrubbing brush scoured at the skin beneath his nails. “Wash and scrub, wash and scrub.” The scrubbing brush moved back and forth, the soap turning a frothy, bloody pink. It wasn’t good enough, not clean enough! He needed something stronger, so he looked under the sink, leaving bloody hand prints on the unit’s door. “This will work, this will work,” he muttered, frantically resuming the scouring. “Wash and scrub, wash and scrub, with lye and bleach,” He continued chanting as he worked, the brush moving faster and faster, back and forth, back and forth. The strong acrid odour coming off the chemicals, stuck in the back of his throat; making his saliva thicken at the corners of his mouth and his eyes blood shot red. “Got to get clean, get all the mean…beneath.” # Diary – Six days ago Good day today. I spoke to Carol. I think she has finally come to her senses; it’s about time. She’s had her fun with that fucking prick. That waste of space artist - Bloody artists! I always knew she would run back to me. As soon as she realised, that there is no money, in being an ‘artist’ – fucking hippie. She phoned the office and said, “We need to talk.” Yeah I bet she does. No money left more like it. If she thinks she is coming back here, and back to her old life, then she’s in for a shock. There will have to be consequences for what she’s done. No more easy ride for her. I mean it this time, I truly do. When I meet her tomorrow, I shall have to open up my arms, and embrace her like the loving (stupid) Husband I’ve been all these years. Then she’s mine. I know she is going to use the same old argument, in that God damn righteous tone: “You pushed me away.” Blah! Blah! Blah! “You and that young secretary.” Blah! Blah! Blah! I swear to God, Allah, Buddha and anyone else who will listen. If she tries to get smart with me again, I’ll make the last beating I gave her look like a tickle fight. She will deserve it; after all, she’s nothing but a Hippie's Whore. I’m actually looking forward to it. It felt good that time. I wonder??? On a lighter note, Mum and Dad are coming down on the 21st, which is - let me see…In two days’ time. Yikes! I Will have to get some food in. # “Wash and scrub, wash and scrub, with lye and bleach.” Two hours had passed, and still he scoured away, at the underneath of his fingernails. The bleach bottle was empty and the block of lye almost worn away. The blood was trickling from underneath every nail; snaking in rivulets down the sink on the back of the chemical cleansers. It still wasn’t good enough, not clean enough! He needed another solution. He reached into the cutlery drawer, and took out a pair of big, awkward scissors. “Cut them off.” He started cutting his nails. Chunks flew off in all directions as he hacked at them manically. After a minute, he stood back and looked at his handy work. His fingers looked like he had been scratching at a rough brick wall, the right hand slightly worse than the left. It still wasn’t good enough, not clean enough! “Cut them off, cut them close,” he garbled, as a new idea struck him, and again he started to chop at his nails with the scissors. “Cut them off, cut them close.” # Diary – Five days ago I’m drunk! That fucking bitch’s fault: Hadn’t come to her senses after all, just said, “She wants a divorce.” Fucking whore! Carol is… Oh dear! Going to be sick………. ...........That’s better, feel better now, sobering up. If she thinks she is taking any of my hard earned money, then she’s got another thing coming. Going to bed now, Mum and Dad are coming tomorrow. Damn! Forgot to get food, we shall have to eat out. # “Cut them off, cut them close.” His nails were cut down, almost to the quick. All raggedy and bloody, with serrated sharp edges. But his eyes looked worse, sharper, and ever maddening. “Cut them off, cut them close.” It still wasn’t good enough, not clean enough! “Rip them off, rip off the quick.” He looked under the sink again, adding more blood to the already smudged door. In his tool box he found what he was looking for – pliers. # Diary – Four days ago Good day today: Mum and Dad were as funny as ever. Retirement has no doubt saved their marriage. Since they moved to Florida their life has just gotten better and better. I can’t remember Mum ever looking so happy, she looks ten years younger. And even Dad is getting some of his old wit back. He had me in absolute stiches in the restaurant It’s a shame they can’t stay longer. They’re leaving first thing tomorrow morning, going to see aunt Selma up in the mountains. I love it up there, shame I can’t go with them, but its all go in work at the moment. The sea view development has just been granted planning permission for five new condos. It’s a really exciting time and the whole firm is buzzing. I Think I'm going to have to expand the office, and get two new girls in to help with the paper work. *Sigh* # “Rip them off, rip off the quick, got to get clean, get all the mean…beneath.” Three hours had now gone by, and the madness was seeping in deeper with each new attempt to, ‘get clean.’ He stood there panting and wild eyed. A pair of bloody pliers gripped in his mangled claw. He placed the pliers in the sink next to the scissors and the empty bleach bottle. His fingers were dripping blood in a steady flow from the deep cuts where the roots of his nails had once been. He noticed a fragment still sticking from the end of his right index finger. So he picked up the pliers clumsily in his left hand and ragged out the last offending piece. Still not good enough, not clean enough! “Put them on a flame,” he cackled, as he lit the biggest ring on the hob. # Diary – three days ago Bad day: The robbing, conniving, She-Devil! Received a letter from her attorney (should all be shot). She wants half - HALF, no less. Says she’s got proof, pictures, and even a video. She has being planning this for months, years even. The conniving, no good WHORE, she won’t get a dime, not a single dime, even if I have to sell off the firm and move abroad. Oh Carol, Carol, Carol… Oh dear - Going to be sick...... .......That was strange I’m not even drunk. It’s all her fault. I’m getting sick again. Haven’t taken my pills for months, since she left. - I wanted to feel again, to feel the hurt, but all I feel is anger. Honest to God, I could scratch her eyes out. It would feel good. Like when she deserves it - and now she has taken that pleasure away from me too. Mum and Dad were deposited safely at the airport. I miss them already. # Diary – Two days ago Strange day: It’s five in the morning, and I have only just gotten in. I have been to see THEM. There is a tree in the woodland behind the Hippie's house. Climbed up it and just watched. I saw only a few peeks of her, through the curtains, and each time I was violently sick. Then I was laughing. I must have been laughing for an hour before I realised. Just tired I suppose. Although, I am now getting some strong urges; at one point I was half way over the back wall before I even knew what I was doing. The dog barked and snapped me back to reality, and so I left. Will go back tomorrow. # “Put hand on a flame, to kill a worse pain.” He placed his thumb in the fire, instantly a big ugly blister appeared. He watched it form, then crack and blacken, bursting before it had begun to fill. It smelt like burning pork, but sweeter, somehow sweet? He pulled the thumb out and inspected it, sniffing it like an animal. “Put hand on flame, got to get clean, get all the mean… beneath.” He placed the next finger in the blue flame. “Got to get clean get all the mean,” he chanted, as he went from finger to finger. After the last finger, was sufficiently burnt and deformed, he slumped into a sitting position on the kitchen floor, his back resting against the cupboards. He studied his tortured hands, flipping them this way and that, and smelling them, licking them. It wasn’t good enough, not clean enough! He didn’t know what else to do and his mind had almost completely gone. It still wasn’t good enough, not clean enough! He tried to stand, clawing uselessly at the wall, leaving bits of burnt sticky flesh on the smooth surface. He couldn't get up, so he slumped back into a sitting position, looking greedily at his tortured fingers. “Bite them off, chew them off,” said a voice that was no longer his. # Diary – yesterday Good day: It’s five in the morning again, oh dear diary of mine. But all is well. They left the curtains open. I have been watching them! They were doing it. Mmmmmm!!! I liked to watch. Guess I’m a pervert! But you won’t tell anyone now, will you? The dog was barking and she let it out. Was sick again when I saw her in the moonlight. But it was a nice type of sick. Felt warm and good. The dog barked when I climbed over the fence. It will never bark again. Felt almost as good as when I think of hurting her. We shall go back tomorrow! # “Chew them off, crunch them up.” He chewed at his fingers. Now completely gone into madness, the bone splintered underneath his gnashing teeth. Blood filled his mouth as he chewed, causing him to cough and splutter. He liked the pain. He liked the taste; tasted like chicken: “Chew the chicken, crunch the chicken." # Diary – Last entry I left her in the mud, with those dead staring eyes, and the scratches on her thighs. Got to get clean, get all the mean…beneath. From beneath my fingernails. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
| ©
Copyright 2024.
Herb
All rights reserved. Herb has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |