Malpractice - 2. Chapter 2

John Spanton came home one day, and he’d had enough. As he walked up to the dilapidated, molding house he lived in with his hooker/exotic dancer mother and her newest ex-con, drunken boyfriend for the last six months, he heard them screaming at each other...again. Walking up the overgrown, broken concrete walkway, he tossed away the Newport cigarette that had been hanging from his mouth and rolled his crystal blue eyes as he jiggled the doorknob and shoved his shoulder into the rotting wood, forcing the door open.

The scene he walked in on was more violent than usual. At sixteen, John had seen his sometime druggie mother bring man after man home. He’d thought they were just her “special friends” as a young boy. Now that he knew better, he sometimes wondered at the irony of his mother’s “profession” and his own name.

When the front door finally opened, allowing the bright April sunlight into the cave-like house, John saw Paul Greene kneeling over Janet Spanton, slamming his meaty fists into her face. Her right eye was blossoming with black and blue bruising, and her nose was bleeding all over the floor. Paul’s back was to him, so John snuck by them to his room. John felt his face flushing as his body pumped anger, adrenaline, and blood through him.

Stepping into his dark room, John went directly to the bureau on the east wall of the immaculate space, and opened the top drawer. John’s room was the only room in the run-down, three bedroom house that had any sense of order to it. His bed was made almost to military perfection every morning. While the main color scheme of the room was black and white; the curtains were black, and the bedframe, dresser and night stand were white; he had various pieces of art posted on each of the four walls, including the four-piece William Blake series, “The Great Red Dragon.”

John pushed aside the rolled up socks in the drawer, and lifted a small wooden plank from its bottom, revealing a dirk that he’d kept hidden since he was thirteen. He’d never found the courage to use the bladed weapon against any of the other men his mother brought home and took beatings from. But he heard strangling noises coming from the livingroom and Paul was shouting.

“You’ll never talk back to me again, will you, bitch?!” And then he heard the sickening sound of Paul’s fist connecting with his mother’s face again.

That was it. He’d had it. John pulled the straight edged, double sided blade from its sheath, and started toward the front of the house. When he reached the livingroom, he found Paul violating his mother’s dead body, her torn clothes tossed asunder across the room. John’s vision was tinted red, but he was seeing more clearly than ever.

His mind went blank, and then suddenly filled with images of his blade plunging down into Paul’s chest and coming back out, blood spattering everywhere. Then John felt moisture on his face. He touched the wetness, and it felt warm and thicker than sweat. When he looked at his fingers, there was blood on them. He looked down, and under him was Paul, his vacant eyes staring up at the ceiling. John laughed, tilting his head back. A rush of adrenaline coursed through him as John realized that he’d killed Paul.

“I’ve done it,” he said to himself, “I’m free.” He threw his head back and laughed again.

Now that bastard is going to pay, he thought, and John pulled Paul’s over-large pants and his boxers off his corpse. Then John dragged Paul’s body into his own bedroom. John positioned Paul’s body so that they were both facing the full-length mirror. John could feel his pants tightening over his crotch as the adrenaline continued pulsing through him. He kicked Paul’s legs apart as he opened his own pants. Mounting Paul, John pulled Paul’s hair until his chin was resting on the floor, and his vacant dead eyes were looking into the mirror. As John raped Paul’s deceased body, sodomizing him as he had watched Paul do to his mother, John found himself laughing again and shouting at the old man.

“How does it feel, you sick fuck?! Huh?! How do you like it?!”

When John was finished, he calmly showered, put on a clean red t-shirt and blue jeans, along with clean underwear and socks, then a backpack with the rest of his clean clothes. After lacing up his black Converse shoes, John went to the kitchen and made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Having finished eating, John returned to his bedroom for his backpack. Taking one last look at Paul’s body, John saw a glint of gold on his wrist. It was Paul’s prized Rolex. John took the watch and tried it out on himself. To his surprise and delight, it fit perfectly upon his wrist with no adjustment.