Fifty Shades of Red - Chapter One

Mr. Mulligan paced back forth then spun to face his son:
“They say a child ending an animal’s life is an early sign of psychopathic behavior” As Mr. Mulligan said these words he stroked his handlebar moustache slowly, then turned back to his son.
“So I hope you understand my concern for you killing Fido” He said as he looked down the mutilated corpse of his former dog.
Fido’s eyes were removed and his chest had been sliced open and all organs and guts had been removed.
“As well as intimidating the maid and making crude sexual comments to her and then proceeding to kill Forkball, obviously with some sort of hammer or blunt object and hung that beautiful cat’s dead body in the living room”.
“Now what? What? Junior do you have to say for yourself?” Little Timothy thought about lying for a moment but due to his strict morel stance, on lying, he told his father the truth.
“The voices told me to do it” Timothy whimpered to his father. His father took a moment to take this in before bellowing.
“The voices?! Fucking perfect timothy you little devil child shit, you’re just a little fucking murdering cunt and…oh shit, you killed her didn’t you?” The realization shot through him like the poison of some snake that kills you in three seconds. Although the snake’s fangs had bit while he was in open heart surgery and he could feel it spreading like a speeding wild fire burning through his veins and engulfing all former identity of this man. Timothy’s Father became beyond completely hysterical.
“You little spawn of Satan you killed my sweet Lenoir, no one could explain it, I come home the preacher standing at my door but nobody could tell me, how?! No forced entry, no fucking entry at all Timothy! Huh! is that fucking right?” Timothy backed away from his father and tried to explain.
“She was too worried about everything Daddy; I just wanted to give her some peace”.
“Wanted to open her up and hear her squeal”
Timothy thought of his mother’s innards spilling on the living room floor and bit back a smile.  
The back door of the Mulligan’s suburban home flew open and Mr. Mulligan stormed across the yard to the garden shed.  He entered the shed and searched for a weapon, all the time ranting and raving insane like words. He wanted to chop the boy up into little pieces and be done with his life. Garden shears, axe, machete, he studied his available arsenal. He grabbed the machete and went to leave before he saw his chainsaw. The Mulligan’s neighbor concerned with the insane ranting and such curiously poked his head over the fence to see Mr. Mulligan looking quite angry, quite mad really. Even more concerning was the chainsaw he brandished and the fact he started it and walked into his house.  The neighbor turned around, planning on phoning the police, to find little Timothy standing there.
“My father” Said little Timothy.
“He’s a bad man, he killed mummy you know and now he says he going to kill me; and you”. Timothy then turned his head to face away from the neighbor and muttered something incoherent; turning back to the neighbor he broke into tears and wrapped himself around his leg. Bill Henderson, the neighbor wearing boy clad pants, started to back towards his house.
“Get off me leg” He grunted at Timothy. Timothy clung on still so Mr. Henderson shoved him off with his palm. The boy hit the ground and let out a long hissing sound. Mr. Henderson stared at him for moment and thought something like, “What a little fucking freak” to himself before turning back round and pacing towards the house. He pushed through his door and walked to his phone. As he was dialing the number his thoughts turned back to Timothy and the possible harm he was in because of his deranged father but as he peered up he saw little Timothy standing in his hallway staring right at him.
‘BEEP BEEP BEEP”    
“Hello police? I’d like to, oh, police. Hello police? I’d like to report a psychotic man with a chainsaw. Yes a chainsaw, ah huh, 42 Redrum Street. Max? No you can’t have him Max I’m warning you Max! MAHHH!”

“Sir? Hello?” Said Trina, the clerk, she paused for a moment, no reply. She then quickly called for a squad car to 42 Redrum Street.  
About seven blocks from the Henderson residents there was a police car parked outside a shopping centre. Inside Frank and Tyrone were gnawing upon their glazed rings of fatty sweetness,
“Yo Franky” Tyrone said through a mouthful of donut and coffee.
“I motherfuckering love donuts and coffee, shit I don’t care how stereotypical that shit is” Frank nodded in agreement and slurped his take away cup cappuccino.
“Ever since I gave up cigarettes, it’s like the donut is my nicotine. Damn Krispy Kream motherfuckers, I swear on my mother’s grave they put some form of nicotine in these suckers” Frank smirked, his mind ticked over. Kinda like when you see someone smoking in a film all this talk of nicotine got old Franky boy in the mood to suck down some cancer while he sipped his take away cup cappuccino, in fact all this talk of cigarettes has got your humble narrator in the very same mood and depending on the person may in fact have seduced the reader to light up and suck down a silky smooth smoky cigarette themselves.
The flicker of a match was followed by a wind shielding hand motion concluding with an inhale and exhale of the lungs, Tyrone’s eyes rolled.
“Shit man you know I’m trying, you got to smoke that shit right in my face?”  Frank peered at Tyrone through the smoky aura that surrounded him.  “You gota have a bit of temptation” chuckled Frank with a cough.
“Temptation! Shit maybe if yo pale ass had some menthol goodness to bless the car with, take that smoky ass shit out of my car!”
“Your car! Man you smoked a pack a day in this “government” car alone till your new years eve resolution” Frank snapped in defense.
“Well I’m a changed man Frankie boy” Tyrone shrugged, in his mind slightly above Frank.
“It’s fucking new years day you fucktard”
Just before Tyrone could retort the radio blasted with a call for nearby officers only seven blocks from where Tyrone and Frank were currently parked. The lights of their squad car flashed and howled and they were on their way.
Frank was driving; Tyrone sat with paranoid thoughts racing through his mind.
“I don’t like this man” Tyrone said “Redrum, chainsaw. Fuck this I say we wait for backup”
Frank eyes darted side to side for a path to weave through the traffic, which was folding to the sidewalks controlled by the ever howling of their car.
“Redrum? The street name?”  Frank asked him.
“Yeah it’s like the Shining man, it’s fucking murder spelt backwards and well a motherfucker with a chainsaw can’t be good news” Tyrone said this and shifted around in his seat.
“Well, uh, how did Shining end up? Good? Bad?”
Tyrone looked over at his partner, “Not too bad”; he gulped, “Considering, but the brother always got to die”
“The brother?”
“The black dude you guinea fuck”
“Well I guess I’ll be fine then” smiled Frank.
He finished his cigarette and tossed it out the window, it spun through the winter air catching raindrops along the way. It fell at the feet of young Timothy.
Timothy bent down and picked up the butt from the ground. Its cherry was still very much alight; Timothy stared at it, although it was some beautiful sun in which he worshipped. In a display of sacrifice he decided to press the cherry against his tongue which he poked out for the occasion. In his mind it was a test, a living, scalding pledge to insanity and carnage. His eyes shone red and images of horror fantasies flooded little Timothy’s senses.
Timothy peered over at the police car stopped a couple of houses down from him. He watched as a black and white cop exited the vehicle. Timothy thought of minutes before when his father had…
Timothy smiled. He was so happy,
“Like son like father” He thought. Timothy had pushed his father into the dark abyss of violence. What Timothy didn’t fully comprehend was the source of his murderous madness. Timothy was fuelled by love, love for pain and the bleeding of humans. The screams, the body as it wrenches in splitting agony. His father however was fuelled by hate and revenge; he wanted to hurt the ones who have wronged him, and that was Timothy and anyone who stand between him and his prey.
Tyrone and Frank walked up to the Mulligan residents along the stone path leading to the door. When they approached the door it was wide open and heard a like, mixture of weeping and moaning. They walked through the hall, guns drawn. They saw a telephone swaying side to side; they saw red sprayed upon the walls dripping down leading to man slumped over in a thick deep red pool of his own blood. He meekly tried holding the gaping wound where his arm once was, each of his heartbeats sent a pulse of blood gushing out of the bleeding and jagged raw wound through the ends of his severed arteries.
Tyrone called for an ambulance; Frank tore off his shirt and pressured it on the wound.  
“Oh holy fucking shit!” Yelled Frank as blood soaked his shirt at a beyond alarming rate, soon it was dripping wet. Frank started crying and mumbling “Holy fuck, holy fuck” over and over.
The armless man spoke only mad gibberish, it sounded like he was speaking in tongues. His eyes were unnatural wide, as if they were sticking out of his sockets and he had an awful shake like a man naked in depths of the tundra. Behind his eyes he replayed the scene over and over.

He watched himself in a dreamlike world of shades of grey. The image of him looked faceless and the body was almost shapeless, just grey upon grey shifting in a maddening and unsettling manner. Then the sound of a chainsaw but it wasn't an ordinary sound it was more like a two second recording looped over and over.  He saw the source of the sound, a grey shape, an outline of a man swinging and chainsaw franticly. The image of himself was screaming like a python stretching its jaw to swallow a fearful animal. Words fell from his mouth in italics,
“I won’t have you hurt him, he’s just a boy”
He thought he saw a gun in his hand but it was too late to avoid the coming fate and the madding images of grey collided. He felt the rip of every single tooth of the chainsaw as they continued to spin endlessly. Tearing away flesh each shred of each tooth ticking over in slow motion, little hooks chipping their way through bone marrow now. A red fountain erupted and exploded into the grey void, splashing red splatters across every inch of the grey until his whole world was red. He looked closely at the red trying to make himself out and for a moment he thought he saw something moving but now all he could see was black and all he could feel was pain.  
He stepped out of the pain and onto a cloud, fluffy and soft.
A nurse finishes pumping him full of drugs and his pain is residing.
He can see a light emerging and a deep soothing voice commanding him to safety.
The doctor shines a flashlight to see how his pupils react to the light. He tells him everything will be fine.