Don't Touch Me
Chapter 10: Angry Man
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is almost finished, sugs. Just around hmm.. around four chapters left? But I'll try to finish this one. Since I gotta catch up on the other fics.
Peter slowly walked towards the Daughters and Sisters building, grinning at himself. He checked the address again, making sure it was the exact same address the old man had told him.
How easy that fool was. Peter knew, as a policeman, knew to demand respect. It was very easy, all you basically have to do is look at them straight in the eye and never blink. That's what he had learned from his father.
He remembered how that son-of-a-bitch barged into the house, he was always so fucking drunk, and so fucking horny. He always broke his beer cans on his head, and he loved to see him whimper on the floor. He used always the same intimidating strategy; look straight in the eyes and never blink, and make sure you're standing. This shows off that you are superior, and Peter loved doing this. He loved letting those weak shitheads know who was the boss around here.
He used to be the weak one when he was younger. His father never spared him any mercy, and Peter was always left crawling and vomiting blood while his father laughed and spat curse words at him. He chuckled as he remembered, how his father loved to torture him. But he got what he deserved in the end.
On the night of his honeymoon, when Glacia was asleep, he slipped out of the room with a wide grin on his face.
He left on his car to his Father's home and knocked on his door. As soon as that old bastard opened the door, Peter had pushed him deep inside the house and stepped inside.
His father was old and Peter had no problem dealing with him. And Peter enjoyed so much seeing his own father look up at him in fear. Revenge was so sweet.
All he had to do was break his father's arms and legs with one blow of his fist and his father was already crying. Peter loved how he had slowly cut his arms, and he loved how blood trickled from his father's veins. Peter had slowly cut off his Father's fingers and squeezed his fucking balls until tears poured out of the old man's eyes.
The old man deserved it anyways. He had put Peter through this misery and he got what he deserved. But oh god, what he loved best was making him scream so hard. His Father had screamed as loud as Stowik had.
As you all know, there is a special place in men where it hurts to be even lightly hit at. And that was the place where Peter loved to bite at. It always made men at your mercy, always made them plead for mercy.
Peter giggled quietly, loving how their deafning screams had filled the air. And he giggled louder thinking of what he'd do to poor poor Glacia when he gets his hands (or shall we say teeth?) on her.
He would have appreciated doing this to her father too, Mr. Hoarfrost. He -hated- how that son-of-a-bitch always seemed to put his nose in his business.
"You best not hurt her if you know what's good for yer, son." he had said. "Remember, she's my daughter. Treat her well."
"Oh, she may be your daughter, but she's my woman." Peter had snarled.
Glacia's family had departed from the face of the earth on November 23, 1995. Her father, mother, and younger brother had been returning from a fishing trip. And they were all laughing and wishing Glacia had come along, saying that her little brother had almost fished a giant catfish.
That's when an Premup Truck had taken a careless turn and as a famous poet once said, that's the end of that.
The truck had crushed them all to pieces and the sight had not been pleasant.
The mother's ribs were poking out of her chest and her head was crushed as a soda can. The younger brother had his arms and legs spread out and his skin was so torn that the white of his bones could be seen between all the gore of his blood and teared skin.
As for Glacia's father, his neck has been so crudely disinfigured, that his neck had actually broken off the body and rolled into the sidewalk. The rest of his broken body parts had stayed inside the car. Which was so massively crushed and rank with a bitter smell, due to the fish that have been crushed inside with the family.
The truck amazingly had crushed the entire car. Usually, trucks just crushed the front of a normal car. But this was a civic, a small car, easy target for big ass trucks to devour. The family have been crushed so severely, blood had splashed outside the windows and out the pavement. Making the road slippery and other cars almost swerving into eachother.
Peter had taken investigation of this. While his partners were cleaning up the horrid mess of blood splattered from the car, Peter had been looking down at the dead people. He grinned at the father's broken head.
Like I said, Pops, she's my woman now. He stopped thinking and looked at the building door. He realized that in order to get inside this place, he had to type a number into the small box on the right of the door.
He cursed and started walking around the Daughters and Sisters building. He walked hoping there was another way to enter.
While he roamed, he noticed a small backyard and two women were outside gardening.
One was grown-up, she had light blue long hair, and pale skin. The other one was much younger, she had long brown hair and hazel eyes. The woman looked up at Peter suspiciously but turned when the girl asked her a question.
Must be the whores that live in this fuck-place. Do these women honestly think that they can live without any men? That's a laugh.
Oh if he could, he'd go over there and strangle both of them to death. The mere thought of women disgusted him, women were useless, worthless rats to him.
Suddenly, the younger girl smiled and waved at him. He stayed stunned. Had this little cunt actually waved to him? He forced a smile and raised his hand in a greeting gesture. The woman looked at the younger girl in a scornful gesture and the girl apologetically looked down.
Peter stared up at the building and bottled up his rage. Damn Glacia was hard-to-get, wasn't she?
His blood-thirst was growing impacient and Peter knew if he didn't get his woman soon, somebody would have to pay the price.
He clenched his fist and put it into his mouth. He bit down on it, taking his anger out by pretending his hand was Glacia's skin. He'd savor the moment he'd pay her back, and he knew he was getting hard.
Although it hurt, he bit down harder. Blood trickled down his fingers and stained his teeth but this only made him bite down harder. He rolled his tongue around the blood, the salty and sticky fluid made him grin madly.
Soon, Peter. Soon you'll have her. Soon you'll make her suffer so damn much she'll grovel and beg for forgiveness. Soon, you'll..-
"Dude, what is he doing with his hand?"
Peter stopped at this and when he turned around, he saw a boy with purple hair staring at him. He was accompanied with another blonde boy. He recognized them, they were those gym leaders Lance told him once. Bugsy and Morty, if he remembered correctly.
"Nevermind that, Bug-boy. Let's move along.." the boy called Morty pulled Bugsy by his shirt hurriedly, as if disgusted at the sight of a man biting his own hand.
He stopped inmediately and looked down at his severed hand, then tucked it inside his coat pocket.
He walked back to his hotel and layed on his bed. Just as he was going to sleep, the phone rang.
With a loud groan, he stretched and picked up the phone. "Hello..?" he snarled, pissed off for getting bothered.
"Hi, is this Mr.Morgan?" the caller on the other end asked, and Peter answered.
"Great, I read this article on the police forum. And I saw yours asking for information about Daughters and Sisters?"
"Yes.." Peter said boredly, he already went there. He didn't see any more need for information because he knew the address.
"Well, yeah.. Anyways, I heard that there's a festival of it at Marvin Park."
Peter stood up, suddenly interested. Maybe Glacia was going to be there? He asked the caller for more information.
"It's suppoused to be for all the ladies that are there, or something like that. I heard its gonna be on Wednesday."
Wednesday? That was tommorrow..
Peter thanked the man and hanged up before the caller could say anything else.
He sat down on a chair and raised his hand up to the window. He clenched his fist, piercing his nails into the fleshy part of his palm.
"Long arm of the law, bitch." He dug his fingers deeper into his palm, and grinned as he saw small droplets of blood drip to the floor.
"You can never run from the law, honey.. You can run, but you can't FUCKING hide.."
He laughed silently to himself as he thought of how to get to her.
...to be continued..