Thursday, November 17, 2011

The Suicide Man.

Chapter 1 of "The Scarred Man" isn't quite ready for posting. In it's place is the original concept of "The Suicide Man".

Please remember, this story is covered under international copyright laws and reprint of this story is only permitted with my permission. T
his is the first draft with minor edits for continuity. Fee free to leave comments regarding the quality or lack of quality either in the comments section or by emailing me at


Jay Franklin

The kitchen table is dirty with cigarette ashes and rotted food. Raymond sits, he pushes away the filth. He stares at the man across from him, his eyes dead and heavy bags under his eyes. His wife beater stained from long eaten food and drink.

The man from across the table speaks, “Tell me your story, I would like to know your rationale for your actions”

Raymond responds, “Not much to tell, I've lived in this shithole my whole life. My mom was always sick, she never left the house, and if she did, it was to get her medicine.”

“What did she suffer from?” the man asks.

“A little bit of everything. From what I remember, she was always taking pills. When the money ran out, she would sell herself.”

Raymond takes a swig of whiskey from the bottle sitting on the table. “My dad was a janitor who showed his emotions with his fists. If it wasn't my mom on the end of a punch, it was me.”

Raymond bows his head, “my dad, he was a janitor, he didn't make shit for money and there were more times than I could remember when we had no food or heat during the winter.”

In a warm tone, the man asks him to continue. “Please go on, your story needs to be told.”

Raymond looks perplexed, “Why do you care?”

“Someone has to? Everyone deserves to be heard.” The man speaks plainly.

“Anyway, as I was saying, my dad beat us all the time. Sometimes he was drunk and other times he just wanted to. I learned a lot from dear old dad. One time, he came stumbling home early and found mom with a guy. She was doing what she had to; she did it so she could get her pills.”

“What happened, Raymond?”

“Exactly how you think it would. The guy left with a broken arm and my mom was in a coma for a week.” Raymond says, sitting back in his chair. “Every day that week, he went to the hospital and he kept whispering to her, IF YOU DO THIS AGAIN...I WILL KILL US ALL.”

The man asks “Did he threaten you as well?”

Raymond laughs “Of course he did. I was scared shitless. Even though I was only nine, I knew this would happen again. She was a whore after all.”

“Do you think your father was just in his actions?”

“Sure, she deserved it and I deserved what he did to me. He worked hard for nothing. He had a whore wife and a worthless kid.”

“Now Raymond, even at that age you didn't feel that his behavior was wrong? Is he the one that taught you violence was a means to an end?”

“Look, you asked asshole. I don't usually talk about my life story but since you want to write a book about some loser like me, I'm not going to hold back.”

“I am just trying to understand what made you into”

“Well, a couple of months later, I was at my grandmother's when my dad shows up. He was covered in blood when my grand mom answered the door. She didn't have a chance. All I saw was the claw of the hammer shatter her skull.”

“Where were you?”

“I stood right behind her.”

“Why didn't he hurt you?”

“My uncle, he was in the kitchen making dinner, he ran in and tackled my dad before he could hurt anyone else.”

“That must have been horrible. I couldn't imagine.”

“No fucking shit! He ended up on death row. Found guilty on four counts of murder. My mom, the guy she was with, a neighbor and my grandmother. He was fried on my fifteenth birthday. I long turned to drugs and drink well before he was dead.”

“Who took care of you? After all that had happened?”

“My uncle, Sure he drank but he never put a hand on me. After what happened to my family, he sank further and further into the bottle. I had free reign to do whatever I wanted to.”

“What was the first violent crime that you committed?”

Raymond looks back with fondness. “That's easy. Me and a bunch of my friends jacked this cab driver. We beat him so bad that he had brain damage from it. I just remember feeling so good making someone hurt so bad.”

“Did you get caught?”

“Yeah, a few weeks later I got busted for breaking and entering. The cops matched my fingerprints that were inside the cab when I was booked. The best thing was I served all of eight months. I got away with it and it made me feel alive. I felt invincible. It made me want to do it again just for the thrill.”

Tipping his head backwards and exhaling, Raymond reminisces about the power he welded. He could choose life or death over anyone.

“Do you have no remorse?  No compassion for the man?”

“No, why would I? If it wasn't him, it would have been someone else.  Survival, that is the name of the game when you don't have shit.”

After another swig from the bottle, Raymond offers to the man interviewing him.

“Here, join in on the fun. Have a drink with me.”

“I have to decline Raymond. I do not drink.”

“You don't drink? Or do you not drink with a son of a bitch?”

“I do not drink.”

“Well, tonight you are asshole.” Raymond pulls a knife from his boxers.

“Please put the knife down. It will not solve your problems. Dialog is your only salvation.”

 The scene shifts to an empty street. Raymond stands alone on the dimly lit corner. A lone car pulls up to the stop sign at the intersection.

“Ray! What’s up?”

“I'll take the best you got Dominic! Only the pure shit!”

The dealer smiles, “You sure you got enough to cover it?”

“Fuck yeah I do! How much?”

“It'll be 3 large Ray; you won't find this shit anywhere else.”

Ray pulls out a gun and empties the rounds into the dealer. He swipes the bag from the dealer's hand and runs off; leaving a bloody mess to be found once the sun comes up.

“Did you kill him?

“I guess so; I didn't stick around to take his pulse or anything. I got what I needed and hauled ass. Once I got home I got so fucking high!”

Ray wipes snot running onto his lips.

“Speaking of which, I need to smoke a bit. You mind?”

“Raymond I must insist that you stay conscious during our conversation.”

“Why not? I'll do it if I want to! If I'm gonna tell my story, I need to kiss the glass pipe a bit.”

“No Raymond, you will not. Continue with your story.”

Raymond becomes more irritable as the time passes by. He rubs his eyes with his palms, trying to think of what to talk about next.

“Alright, let's get back to it. Melanie Bunt. She was a bit retarded and easy to influence. Since she would do anything you told her, I took advantage of that.”

“What did you make her do?”

“Anything you could think of. I made her eat my shit, drink my piss and got her to put things in her body. Fucked up thing was no matter how much it hurt it, she still did it.”

“Did you receive great pleasure in what she did?”

“Yeah, some of it was a power trip and some of it was...sexual.”

“What happened to her?”

“She was committed to some looney bin. I got her to molest her little brother; she did some sick shit to that kid. Told her I'd kill her family if she told anybody. When her parents found out, they sent her away.”

“You are a sick pervert. How can you live with yourself?”

“I don't really feel bad about any of it. How I've lived my life is how I wanted and no one can change me.”

“Are you sure?”

“No one.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Really? Fuck you.”

“Yes Raymond, there is someone who can change this.”

“Let me guess, God right?”

“No, not god. There is someone who has much more power. Real power.”

Ray rolls his eyes.

“Don't start preaching to me asshole. If you want to hear the last bits of my life, you'll shut up and I'll finish up.”

“Fair enough, continue.”

Taking a large swig from his bottle, Raymond gulps down the whiskey, leaving a large sigh in his wake after.

“So you want to know the really dirty secret I've been carrying do ya?”

“Raymond, there are no secrets with you, thinking that no one has known the terrible things you have done is your greatest weakness.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? You don't know what I've done.”

“You would be surprised, you have left quite a trail leading up to your doorstep.”

A look of concern jumps from Raymond's face, he slowly slides his chair backwards from the table.

“Raymond, I am not here to judge or punish you. My purpose is to find out why you've done what you have.”

Raymond moves his chair slightly forward.

“OK, there was this immigrant, she came from Africa or some shit country. She was a waitress at the diner down the street. She barely spoke English and had no family or anything over here.  Since I needed cash and she had just got off work I decided to follow her home.”

“I take it you only wanted to rob her and that was it?”

“At that time I just wanted her money, but I didn't have a plan.”


“I followed to her apartment, it was a cheap place so there was no buzzer and I just followed her in. Lucky for me she was only on the second floor so I didn't have to trudge up a million steps. I kept walking once she got to her door. I waited in the far stairwell for a few minutes before I made my way back to her door.”

“What did you do?”

“I knocked.”

“Just knocked?

“I've done this a million times; I wasn't pumped up or anything. I was going to go in and get what I wanted and leave.”

“But you changed your mind didn't you?”

Grinning, Raymond looks into the man's eyes with a dead stare.

“Once I showed myself in, I got a real good look at her and decided to have some fun too.”

Taking another swig, Raymond continues.

“I tied her up first, had to show her who was in charge. Didn't make the lamp cord too tight around her wrists, just enough so she couldn't get free.”

“Showed who was in charge?”

“Yeah, she had no control over anything and I told her what I was going to do.”

“Such as?”

“I told her I was going to have fun with her weather if she wanted to or not. I was going to violate her with unnatural objects because that is what I like. She was going to feel pain like never before.”

“You are a monster; it is a pity that humanity has dealt with you this long.”

“Ha-ha, fuck you, I'm not done!”

“I don't know if I can hear anymore.”

“Deal with it; you wanted to hear, so you are going to hear it all. I don't care if it makes you sick.”

“Just get it over with” the man says, rubbing his temples.

“She took the rolling pin with barely a whimper, I branded her with wire hanger, put a goddamn heart on her ass!”

Raymond laughs; the man slams his hands onto the table.

“Enough of the laughing, just continue the story.”

“When I got bored, I just punched her in the face a couple of times, by that time she was moaning almost non-stop.”

“How long did you torture her?”

“About a day, I didn't penetrate her until the end. It wasn't until she had blood running from every hole that I did her. Hell I don't even know if she was still alive by then. I stabbed her a few times just to make sure.”

“You are a monster.”

“Maybe I am. Should I feel sorry for what I've done? Probably, but I don't.”

“Raymond, do you have anything else to confess?”

“What are you a priest or something? I haven't confessed to nothing, just telling a story.”

“I am neither a priest nor an officer of the law. I am here to cleanse your soul.”

“What the fuck are you on?”

“You have caused too much pain in this world, you've been allowed too much. The world has no use for you and it is your time to stop.”

“Stop what? I ain't stopping anything.”

The man stands from the table and moves towards Raymond.

“Stay away from me asshole” Raymond pulls a pistol from his waistband. “Stop there or I shoot you fucker! Don't think I won't!”

“I have no doubt, but you won't”

The man touches Raymond’s hand.

“You MUST do this, your time is over.”

Raymond's eyes swell with tears; a lifetime of pain inflicted on others hits his chest.


“I know son.”

The man comes from the shadows, revealing his face.

“Dad? You're dead. This can't be happening”

“Raymond, place the gun to your head and pull the trigger.”

“But dad, I did all of this to be like you. I wanted to know how you felt.”

“I understand son, but you must pull the trigger.”

“Yes dad...”

Raymond pulls the trigger; his head explodes onto the wall behind him. Fragments of skull and soupy gray matter stain the tattered wall paper. The man stands in the center of the room, “Poor Raymond, I never was your father, I am and always will be the Suicide Man."

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