'Death is better than life', my chilling new story .......(and yes I'm one disturbed bitch)

Death is better than life.




John liked to work late at night, that’s just the way it was. He needed silence; he needed to hear his thoughts, his fears, and his desires. Sometimes, he would just sit in his porch and listen to the sounds of the night. Rain, wind, a fox rummaging through a bin bag, black cabs unloading drunken twenty something’s. He had written several of his best sellers at night. John could find inspiration in anything. Correction, John used to be able to find inspiration in anything. Now it seemed that whatever he wrote just wasn’t good enough. People had high expectations for his next novel. His most recent novel Choose had sold 300,000 copies worldwide; it had been made into a film with Hollywood favourites playing his victims.

He had managed to write four chapters of this new novel, that’s all. His hands were sweaty as he sat staring at the one sentence he had typed of chapter five, the sentence he deleted over and over again, and then re-typed because he couldn’t think of anything better. John knew what the problem was, he was feeling unbelievably guilty, he couldn’t shake the feeling off. It was all about money, he had too much of it, stupid amounts of money. He didn’t deserve it, he wasn’t that good a writer, he’d just been lucky. He used to write for fun, for enjoyment. Now he had to keep his agent sweet, he had to satisfy his fans. He wanted out. This novel would be the last thing he wrote, if he ever managed to complete it.

Of course his wife wouldn’t let him give up writing. Money, holidays, material things all mattered to her. He smirked as he thought about the woman he had met twenty years ago, she would beg him to fuck her on the back seats of her mom’s Fiesta, she would run from taxi’s to avoid paying, she would dance laughing in the rain. That woman was long gone. He was scared his kids would change too. Danny was too young to understand money and fame, but Molly, well Molly was becoming more and more like her mother every day.

Whenever he got writers block he would log onto the message forum on his website and read the latest comments. One fan in particular, death is better than life he called himself, seemed to be obsessed with John’s novels. This guy would regularly post messages to other fans, ‘in Choose which way would you prefer to die?’ or comments like ‘just watched Choose for the third time today. I fucking love the bit where Catherine gets beheaded. Man I’d love to rub her blood all over my hard cock’. John was thankful he would never have to meet the sick bastard.

John was thinking about calling it a night, but he was finding it hard to sleep next to his wife lately. He had stayed up late every night for the past month just to get away from her. Sometimes he would masturbate in the pool whilst he thought about the young blonde across the street with the nice arse and big tits. It had been raining hard all night; John poured a Jack Daniels and stood watching the rain through the kitchen window. He was waiting for inspiration to strike. Nothing. He poured another Jack and turned his back to the window. His cat walked across the window ledge, its wail made John drop his glass. “Fuck. Stupid cat”.

John knelt down and began to pick up the pieces of broken glass. He could hear a faint tapping at the front door. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, it was probably the wind knocking the hanging basket against the porch window. John sighed as he began turning the lights off; it was time for him to lie down next to the miserable bitch. On the third step he heard the tapping again. He turned and put the hall light on, and unlocked the heavy oak front door. The porch was cold, he looked through the glass, nothing was there, but he could still hear the tapping. It was really pissing him off. Pushing his feet into his slippers he opened the porch door, and stepped outside into the rain. The hanging basket was swaying in the wind; John took the basket down and put it on the floor. Dirt spilled out all over his slippers “shit” he hissed as he crouched down and began pushing dirt off his feet.

When he looked up he saw a tall, stocky man dressed in black standing at the end of his drive. “Hello?” John said with a stammer. The man didn’t reply, he started walking slowly towards John. “Do I know you?”John asked. The man was walking faster now, John realised he was wearing something over his face. It looked like some sort of pig mask. The man was reaching inside his jacket pocket. John felt like he was glued to the spot. One of his worst fears was getting burgled. Finally he found his feet, and started to shuffle backwards fumbling with the porch door handle. “Get the fuck away from my house, I’m calling the police” John shouted.

John felt the door swing open; he turned and ran into the porch. As John turned the key in the lock the stranger pressed his masked face against the double glazed window pane. The stranger’s breath left circular patterns against the glass; the stranger tapped the glass lightly. John scurried backwards “I’m calling the police” he stuttered again. John slammed the door shut, and searched in his pocket for his mobile phone. He ran up the stairs and flung open his bedroom door. He grabbed his wife’s shoulders and began to shake her. “Wake up Karen” he whispered.

Karen sat up in the darkness “What’s going on, what time is it?” she croaked confused. “Shhhh keep your voice down!” John hissed. “What the fuck’s going on John?”

“There’s someone trying to get in the house! You need to get the kids and go down to the utility room.” John said. “Have you called the police?” Karen asked, her voice trembling. “I can’t find my fucking mobile!” John cried. Karen reached across the bedside table for her phone. “Karen, no, listen to me get the kids to safety, give me the phone”.

“The kids, John, the kids” Karen said shaking her head. “Karen, I need you to be brave, do you understand? Now go!” Karen crept across the hall towards her son’s bedroom. She scooped her sleeping son into her arms and fumbled through the darkness. She inched across the hallway and carefully opened her daughter’s bedroom door. “Molly, Molly wake up” she said.

“Mom?”

“Listen you’ve got to be quiet. Someone’s trying to get in the house; we need to go down to the utility room. Come on we need to go” Karen said.

Trembling, Karen led the way through the darkness, her daughter following behind with heaving breaths. They tiptoed down the stairs. The sound of shattering glass coming from downstairs made Molly lose her footing, she grabbed at the banister to steady herself. “Dad!” Molly squeaked.

Karen turned to face her daughter “run.”

As they sprinted for the utility room Danny woke up. He flung his head back and started to grumble. “Shush love it’s ok, it’s ok” Karen said. Karen looked around the room for somewhere to hide the children. She put Danny in the cat basket and covered him with a towel. There was nowhere for Molly to hide, at fourteen she was too long to fit into the cupboards she used to hide in a few years ago. Karen wheeled the tumble dryer across the floor and pushed it against the door. She looked around for other stuff to push up against the door. The bastard was not getting to her kids, no way. She hoped to God that John had called the police already.

John moved against the cool walls of his pitch black study desperately searching for the light switch. He could hear the intruder breathing as he hid in the shadows. John wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead; he was trying to think of what he could use as a weapon. John’s fingertips found the light switch. The intruder stood next to John’s computer. The sudden bright light stung John’s eyes; he squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light. Terror raced through his veins as he saw the pig mask in the yellow light.

John cowered in disbelief as the man snorted like a pig over and over again. “Stop it, stop it!” John shouted with his hands covering his ears. “What do you want from us?”John screamed. The pig man crawled on all fours towards John. John felt a rush of adrenalin, he ran for his desk drawer knowing that a pen knife was buried somewhere deep inside. John pulled the drawer from his desk and tipped the contents out. Pens and post it notes and half finished manuscripts decorated the marble floor. “Just take whatever you want and leave us alone” John pleaded.

The pig man stood up slowly “I don’t want your belongings I want you dead” his deep voice echoed around the room. John reached for the cordless phone on his desk and began to dial. The pig man lunged at the desk and ripped the phones base from the socket. “I have money, lots of money, I’ll open the safe, you can take what you want. If you leave us alone I promise I won’t tell a soul. I promise” John begged. John backed away; he felt the radiator against his back. The pig man lunged at John and grabbed him by the throat. John felt the pig man’s hot breath in his ear. The pig man whispered in John’s ear. John’s face contorted with despair, “no, I won’t do it, you’re sick you need help, I can get you some help” John spluttered.

The pig man reached inside his long black jacket and pulled out a knife. He pushed up John’s sleeve and sliced across John’s forearm. John wailed in agony, his blood dripped onto the floor like raindrops. “If you don’t do it I will kill your family while you watch. Then I will kill you” the pig man’s voice was pure evil. John shook his head; the thought of what he was about to do made him heave. John bent down and clutched his stomach as vomit rushed out in hot, fragrant waves.

The pig man grabbed John by the arm and pulled him upright. John sobbed as he was dragged along the hall way. “Remember, do as I say and nobody gets hurt” the pig man hissed.

John leant his head against the utility door, his knees knocked together and his arse twitched. He glanced behind him at the pig man who stood in the hallway, the moonlight reflecting off his blade. John tried to open the door “Karen it’s me. He’s gone, I scared him off” John croaked.

“Where’s the police?” Karen squeaked. “I called them, they’re on their way. I caught him going through my desk drawer, he ran off when I put the study light on.” John’s heart pounded as he stood waiting for his wife to open the door.

Karen pulled away the tumble dryer and opened the door. She wrapped her arms around her husband “thank God you’re ok” she cried. When she pulled back she noticed the blood on his sleeve. “John you’re bleeding! What happened?”

Karen tore through the washing basket looking for a towel. “I caught my arm on some broken glass; he knocked the lamp over when he was going through my drawer.”

Karen wrapped the towel around John’s arm “What did he want? Money?” Karen asked. “Maybe, I don’t know. Maybe he was looking for my new manuscript”

Karen swallowed. There was something different about John. After fifteen years of marriage she knew when he was lying. John was staring right through her; his eyes were narrow and dark. Molly noticed it too “dad, what’s wrong?” she asked. John stood staring at his family in silence. “We need to get the children to bed John; I don’t want them up while we speak to the police”. Karen bent over to pick Danny up.

“Put him down” John hissed. “What? What are you going on about, he needs to go to bed” Karen stuttered.

“I said put him down”

“John you’re scaring me”

John grabbed Karen by her hair and began to pull her out the room. “Dad! What are you doing?” Molly screamed. “Stay here Molly and look after Danny, shut the door” Karen shouted.

Molly clambered towards the door. She sat with her back against the door and sobbed silently as salty tears trickled into her dry mouth. John pushed Karen along the hallway; she slapped at him and tried to struggle free from his grip. “John get off, stop it, stop it”.

John took Karen into the study. He pushed her down to the ground, her face squished against the cold floor. “Why are you doing this John? Why?” Karen whimpered. Karen noticed a puddle of blood by John’s desk, on the floor next to the puddle laid a crimson coated pen knife. Broken glass from the desk lamp surrounded her. The windows were closed and remained intact; there were no signs of forced entry in the room.

John held a firm hand on Karen’s head; he used his other hand to pull at her pyjama bottoms. Karen screamed and wriggled. “Please don’t, please don’t” she whispered. John forced himself inside; he turned his head and looked at the pig man standing by the door. The pig man removed his mask and John saw his identity for the very first time. A slow smile crept along the man’s face. John stared at the familiar face, a sly smile spread across his face; he grabbed at his wife’s hair and started to snort.

“Why are you doing this, please stop, please stop” Karen said.

John snorted and grunted. “He told me to do it, he’ll kill you all if I don’t” John laughed and licked his lips. “What do you mean?” Karen shrieked.

“Look he’s watching he’s nodding in approval” John whispered.

“There’s no one here” Karen screamed. Karen tried to inch towards the pen knife. John forced his weight on top of her; he reached his arm out and grabbed the pen knife. He forced Karen on to her back, and straddled her. Karen twisted her face to the side to avoid her husband’s deadly stare. “Death is better than life” John whispered. He thrust the knife into his wife’s throat until her body moved no more.