Fiction by Candy
When they broke into the house I was in the basement laundry room and didn’t hear anything until my youngest screamed. Thinking that she’d hurt herself, I hurried upstairs and came face-to-face with an automatic pistol that seemed so big I couldn’t focus on the person pointing it at me. Juliette screamed again.
“Tell her to shut up or we’ll shut her up,” the man with the gun said.
Somehow I willed the panic away. It wasn’t easy with a gun barrel in my face and my daughter screaming out of my line of sight. “Don’t hurt her,” I pled. “If you take that gun out of my face, I’ll go to her and quiet her down, but if you hurt her, I swear I’ll—.”
“You’ll what?” he said as I was finally able to refocus on the man in the ski-mask instead of a gaping gun barrel.
“Let me go to her. Please. She’s only eight.”
“Only eight, huh? She looks riper than that,” he said as he lowered the gun and used it to prod me toward the kitchen—and my Juliette. The way my daughter looked at me broke my heart. Another similarly-masked man was holding her with his hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her fearful screaming. When I broke away from the guy with the gun and ran to my daughter, I was clubbed from behind and everything went black. When I came to, I’d been stripped naked with my hands tied behind my back. When I shook my head to clear it the resulting pain was excruciating. I didn’t feel like I’d been raped yet, but perhaps that was next on their agenda.
The one with the gun was sitting on a kitchen chair and had Juliette on his lap. She’d been stripped down to her panties and was still crying. Seeing that I was conscious again, she said, “Mom, why are they doing this to us?”
When I said that it was because they were evil men, Gun Man guffawed and said, “We’re not evil. We’re just nice guys who like pretty girls. Isn’t your mommy pretty over there with no clothes on and her tits pushed out like that?” Juliette bit her lip but eventually answered that yes, she thought I was pretty. He said, “I think you’re very pretty too.” He ran his hand over one of her immature nipples. “Someday yours will be big and firm like your mom’s, but I kinda like little ones too.”
“Don’t touch her,” I shouted.
He laughed, sliding the one hand down to her crotch while using the other to pull off the ski mask. “Mike, I think we need to get her thinking about something else besides the girls, especially since the other one’ll be home soon.”
My heart nearly burst through my chest. They knew about Kendra! My sixteen-year-old wouldn’t be home for at least another hour, but the fact they knew her scared me more that seeing Gun Man take off his mask. They’ll kill us in the end. All of us.
The other guy, now identified as Mike (if that was his real name) said, “We know how to do that, Sammy…like we talked about.” I swore he put a little extra emphasis on the name, so I knew he was pissed and therefore I surmised the names were correct. “I’ve got the rope.” Mike went into the living room so I couldn’t see what he was doing. All I heard was a tinkling, metallic sound that told me he was fiddling with the ceiling fan for some reason. When he reentered the kitchen he wore a wide, almost insane grin, evident now that he had removed his mask too. “Let’s do it,” he said.
Mike grabbed me by an arm and pulled me to my feet and toward the living room. When I saw the rope tied to the fan spindle and the ottoman under it, I yelled “NO!” and began kicking at him. Mike was too strong though, and I couldn’t break free of his grasp as he dragged me toward the center of the room. Sammy was behind me, chuckling, still holding Juliette with a hand inside her panties.
“Would you rather we put it around her little neck?” Sammy said, and then added, “Now be good and entertain us, will ya.”
One look at my crying and frightened eight-year-old and I was crying too. Mike maneuvered me onto the ottoman and then tied the rope noose-like around my neck, not leaving me any wriggle room. He pawed me lewdly but with my hands tied behind my back and straining not to move lest I stumble and die, I could do nothing to stop him. In horror I watched Sammy undress, exposing his erection. He then coaxed shocked Juliette out of her panties and pulled her onto his lap as he fell to the sofa.
“Please don’t,” I begged.
He just smiled. My daughter was staring at me but her expression was now more lost than scared. Her young mind couldn’t comprehend what was happening to her and her mother, so she basically shut down. Sammy was whispering in her ear but I only heard a fraction of what he said, although his intention was clear. He got her to focus on him instead of me. She stared at his cock, an alien being as far as she was concerned. Sammy said, “It’s OK, you can touch it if you want. I’d like that.”
I wanted to scream when her hand tentatively went to his cock, but the rope was too tight. I was losing the strength in my legs to remain rigidly upright so the makeshift noose was tightening, not enough to restrict blood flow but tight enough to stop me from speaking beyond a croak. Sammy was whispering to Juliette in a sing-song voice, coaxing her to touch and then rub his swollen member. His hands were busy on her but I couldn’t tell exactly what he was touching, although I feared the worst.
Sammy looked at me and solemnly said, “You know, Mom, I want this girl. I bet she’s the tightest little pussy I ever had or ever will have.” He watched as I squirmed and tried to talk. All that came out was a hoarse croak that didn’t sound anything like the “NO” I was shouting inside. “I’ll make a deal with you,” he then said. “Step off and let yourself go, and I’ll spare your girl’s precious virgin vagina. Wouldn’t a mother give her life for her daughter?”
Many thoughts rushed through my mind. I knew that chances were they’d kill us when they were done with us. A selfish part of me thought it would be better for me to go quickly rather than watch them rape and kill Juliette; and maybe if I died now, they’d tire of it all or be scared, leave, and thus spare Kendra. I prayed and then tried to speak but couldn’t. Behind me, Mike put his hand between my thighs and lifted, purposely penetrating me with his thumb. “What did you say?” Sammy asked.
Able to talk with the rope loosened, I barked out, “I’ll do it if you promise not to hurt her, but I have to believe you.”
Sammy’s expression turned solemn as he said, “I’m a man of my word.”
I heard a chuckle escape Mike’s lips as he lowered me back to the ottoman.
I met Juliette’s eyes and mouthed “I love you,” said a prayer to my God who I wasn’t sure was listening, and swung my feet backwards, kicking the ottoman away. For the few seconds before everything went black I strained futilely to get my kicking feet onto something, anything. There was nothing.
The fog didn’t lift fast enough. I didn’t know where I was, although I doubted it was heaven. One clue was how badly my head hurt. I shook my head to clear my vision but that was a damned big mistake. Whatever world I’d fallen into it was filled with crying, so maybe I earned a trip to hell even if I couldn’t think of what I’d done to deserve that fate. Eventually my head cleared enough for me to see, although my vision was as if through a red filter. One source of the crying was Juliette, who was sitting beside me on the living room floor in front of the sofa.
When she realized I’d regained consciousness she cried out, “Mom…Mom…you’re alive!” as she hugged me. We were both still naked, and I saw blood on her thighs.
I didn’t immediately see our captors, so I whispered, “Did the men…hurt…you?”
She nodded emphatically. “The ugly one put his penis in me and it hurt SO much,” she said with a stifled whimper. She still hurt but was being stoic for me. “They were laughing at you while you were…hanging…’cause you peed. The man named Mike took you down saying they shouldn’t kill you right away.”
The “right away” part didn’t scare me anymore. I knew we were doomed if we didn’t get away from these men. Since my hands were no longer tied, I tried to stand by pushing myself to my feet, but couldn’t do it; parts of my body were numb and unfeeling, and it seemed as if my muscles were rubber. Did the hanging destroy brain cells, I wondered? That’s when I heard another sobbing voice. Kendra! Juliette, already in physical pain, bared her emotional pain in the way she looked pleadingly at me. We were hearing her older sister being raped somewhere else in the house.
Cries of “Please stop!” and “It hurts!” echoed through the house, mixed with grunts and male laughter.
Juliette was crying anew, saying between sobs, “I’m scared, Mom. Don’t let them hurt me again like that.”
“Be brave, sweetheart,” I murmured. “We need to at least try to stop the men from hurting your sister.”
“No…I don’t want to go in there!”
“Then you don’t, hon, but I have to try. You understand?”
Through the sniffling tears, Juliette nodded. She curled up in a fetal position as I slowly and painfully worked at standing up. In my current condition I didn’t know how I could help my daughter but I’d be damned if I didn’t try something. I inched toward the telephone, hoping they hadn’t disabled it. The cord was ripped from the wall. Trying not to make noise I searched through my discarded clothing for my cell but couldn’t find it. I couldn’t remember where I had it anyway, and worried anew that the near-hanging had maimed my brain forever. For me, what was ‘forever’ anyway? I’d take diminished capacity over death, so I half-walked and half-crawled toward the sound of my sweet Kendra being brutally raped.
I peeked around the door jamb but they weren’t in the kitchen. Now I knew they were in the downstairs bedroom off the hallway. I picked up the biggest butcher knife I had and continued my slow pace toward Kendra and the men.
I hadn’t been quiet enough. Before I got to the bedroom door, Sammy popped out and grabbed me by the hair and pulled me into the room, easily taking the knife from my hand. I screamed when I saw Kendra tied spread-eagle on the bed and Mike hovering above her with cum dribbling from his cock. “You sadistic bastards! I’m going to kill you both!” I hollered.
Sammy laughed. “Ain’t gonna happen. But I know what WILL happen, MILF. You see, my buddy here seems to like you, so he’s gonna fuck you up the ass while I do the same to your girl here. After all, I don’t care much for sloppy seconds.” His comment was punctuated by gobs of milky semen oozing out of Kendra’s vagina along with traces of red.
My precious, violated, teen daughter cried out to me, “Mom! Make them stop! They made me bleed! It hurts!”
I didn’t get to answer her. Sammy slapped me hard across the face and then used a dish towel he must have taken from the kitchen to gag me. “You talk too much,” he muttered as he tightened the gag.
Mike leapt from the bed and said, “I got an idea. Let me go get the younger one.” He licked his lips like a starving dog before saying something about “hanging.”
I groaned and tried to yell “No” but the gag muffled it all. Sammy slapped me again while looking at my daughter; and Kendra cried out again although she was as helpless as I was. Mike pulled Juliette into the bedroom, her hands bound behind her back. He had a hammer in his hand, one we kept in a catch-all kitchen drawer, plus some nails that must have been in there too. He manhandled her onto the bed between Kendra’s bound, splayed legs, and as a terrified sister would do, she hugged Kendra tightly.
Both girls cried while Sammy said, “Look, Momma, your girls are closet lesbians. We’ll break them of that before the day’s over.”
Mike had pulled a kitchen chair into the doorway. Standing on it, he pounded the largest nail he found into the wood frame above the doorway opening. I thought please hang me and not one of the girls, for I knew what they were going to do with that nail.
True to my horrible premonition, Sammy grabbed Juliette from the bed and gagged her as he had gagged me. In the meantime, Mike was on the chair, fastening a rope to the nail and fashioning a makeshift noose. I lunged at Sammy but with my hands tied I couldn’t do much. He easily knocked me aside and dragged kicking Juliette toward the chair. Kendra wailed incessantly as Sammy callously thrust a finger into Juliette as he lifted her onto the chair and slipped the noose over her head. He adjusted the rope so that like me earlier she had to remain rigidly upright or choke off her air supply. Her screams of terror were muzzled by the gag.
Both men were still naked, and now both were erect once more. They untied Kendra only long enough to retie her hands and feet together in front of her. I thought at least they didn’t hogtie her, but then I remembered what was said before about anal rape.
I was next. They tied me the same way and positioned me so my face was next to Kendra’s and our torsos were in opposite directions. With childish shouts Mike impaled my ass as Sammy impaled Kendra’s. Mike banged me so hard in my virgin anus I figured that even if I lived through the day I’d never be able to sit again. My yelps of pain were muffled, but Kendra’s hurt my eardrums as well as my mother’s heart. If we didn’t die today, how would Kendra ever be the same? Why did we have to go through this? I couldn’t see Juliette, and prayed that if she was going to die anyway, that she was going now, unable to hold herself rigid for long, especially watching what was being done to her mother and sister. A mother should never have these thoughts.
I’d crossed the threshold between agony and numbness by the time Mike was finished with me. Kendra sobbed one pleading “Mommy” but otherwise was silent. They untied her first. As any mother could have predicted she hobbled as fast as possible to her younger sister. “Julie…Julie…Julie!” she screamed, trying to lift her and relieve the noose’s pressure.
Mike said, “Sammy, do you think she’s dead?”
Kendra screamed “No—no—no!” as if she was answering Mike, though she really wasn’t.
Still bound and gagged, I rolled off the bed. Burying this new pain, I saw the hammer that Mike had carelessly tossed onto the floor and rolled my body over it. As forcefully as I could I yelled through the gag for them to untie me. While Mike worked at untying an inert, turning-purple Juliette, Sammy the sociopath joked that he guessed it would be okay for a mom to hold her daughter one last time, as he untied my bindings.
I have never felt this angry in my life. With white hot rage I reached under me, pulled the hammer, and hit Sammy right between the eyes. He fell instantly, his maniacal grin frozen on his face. When Mike caught the action in his peripheral vision he spun toward me, wary of my newfound weapon. As I struggled to my feet he was so focused on the hammer in my shaky hand that he forgot I had other limbs. I summoned every ounce of adrenaline fueled fury and kicked him squarely in the balls. Hurting, and with his guard down that’s when I crowned him with the hammer too.
Kendra and I got Juliette down from the rope. She wasn’t breathing. I performed mouth-to-mouth while Kendra wept beside her sister. I wasn’t trained but I knew enough about CPR to get my baby breathing again with a weak pulse. Sammy groaned and I knew he’d be conscious soon. I thought of tying them both up for the police when Kendra said in a young voice I hadn’t heard from her lips in years.
“No matter what happens, they’re gonna come back someday and do it again.” It sounded like a question but I knew it wasn’t.
They may or may not have killed my baby (she was breathing yet her color was awful), but she and her older sister would never be the same again. I’d seen the so-called justice system fail too many times to think these horrible men would pay the price they richly deserved to pay.
I looked into the pits that were my damaged daughter’s eyes and knew what we had to do. “We’re going to do to them what they did to your sister and me. They’re going to pay…with real justice.” Whether or not she realized what I meant, she helped me drag first Sammy then Mike out back to the big tool shed. At this point I didn’t care if anyone saw us, naked or not. The pitched roof had a handy crossbeam rafter that would do nicely. We tied ropes around their necks and threw the ends over the beam before tying the ends to the big riding mower my late husband called his “weekend throne.” We used some rags to bind their hands and feet as well as gag them.
I opened an old gas can and held it open under their noses. The fumes did the trick. When they came to, each kicked and tried to scream. Feeling the rope around his neck, each man knew what we were going to do.
“You know,” I said in Sammy’s face, “I wanted to take a two-by-four and shove it so deep up your ass you’d never be able to shit naturally again. Then I thought, well, that would be too easy. Since my Juliette may be dead in there I figured I have the perfect payback.”
I started up the lawn mower, as each man kicked and tried to scream. It was no use. I looked at Kendra one more time and I saw the hunger for revenge on her face. I thought I’m right, we won’t ever be the same again as I sat on the mower and hit the gas. After I braked and shut the machine off, I spent a few moments looking into each man’s eyes as their kicking slowly stopped. What were their last thoughts? Was their day of adventure worth it? I thought and followed that up with a deranged laugh foreign to my ears.
Juliette—sweet, strong, lovely Juliette—held on for a couple of days, but the lack of blood flow to her brain was too damaging to survive.
When the cops answered my 911 call they couldn’t comprehend the scene. After an ambulance took Juliette away, I explained what happened and Kendra confirmed it all. They immediately got the DA’s office involved. One cop candidly wanted to know why we hadn’t cut their balls off first before hanging them. “That’s what I would’ve done,” he said. I liked him.
Although the DA made speeches about people “taking the law into their own hands,” she decided that no jury would ever convict me after what had happened. She didn’t even bother with a grand jury; no charges were filed.
I had to place Kendra in a special school that could help her through what counselors called her “transition.” She was basically okay but didn’t want to socialize with anyone, at least not yet. She’d get better someday, I just knew it.
As for me, I was alright. I had to endure the fifteen-minutes-of-fame spotlight for a while. Although groups begged me, I didn’t want to be a spokesperson for any cause. To some I was a heroine who tried to protect her children. To others I was nothing more than a murderer of two “boys.” Opinions of me were like assholes—everybody had one. I didn’t care. Fresh flowers were always on Juliette’s grave, and once a year I spread fresh dogshit on the graves of Sammy and Mike. I haven’t been caught doing it yet.