Helen grabbed my balls with forceps.
"Wanna know what it’s really like?"
I screamed. Cold steel wrapped around me, wrinkling the flesh between my legs. I could taste it as it pinched.
She yanked, hard. I squealed like a girl.
Helen’s eyes flared; exhilaration pulsed – not prettily – across her wiry face. I looked around, anywhere but at her. The ceiling of the trailer was peeling away in the corners, speckled with greeny-black mould. I could smell the stench from the unflushed toilet behind us. Its door long gone; all that separated it from decent living conditions was a transparent curtain, flecked with stains. Years of shite and unsanitary episodes shouted for help from the suffocating space. Before I could gag, Helen fell on me, all 280 pounds of her. She pursed her vicious lips. All I could think as she tried to suffocate me was that her mouth looked like a chicken’s arse, no doubt helped by the lack of teeth. That thought probably saved my life. For a moment.
"Giving birth’ she said ‘Is like nothing you could ever imagine."
I’m a stupid fucker. What an unbelievably ridiculous thing to say to an angry woman who’s trying to kill you. I asked for it.
Helen’s chunky flesh rammed into me, squashing my flimsy frame. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t… breathe.
I awoke to find I’d been tied down. My clothes were ripped apart but still hung from my useless bones. Agony hit me as I saw Helen at the kitchen sink, washing fresh blood off a wide hunting knife. She must have heard me move. She turned.
"How does it feel?"
My whole body coursed with pain. I could barely tell the source. Helen helped me there. A full bottle of fake Chanel flew across the bed, stinging every inch of my slashed skin. Helen jumped onto the mattress beside me, evidently enjoying what she’d put me through. It was nothing compared to where she rammed her fist.
I came to once again. Helen had fallen asleep but her hand was still jammed between my legs. My eyes rolled. I couldn’t see straight; everything was out of perspective.
If Helen had tried to rip my bollocks off then her elbow should have been by my knees. Yet her elbow rested underneath my nads, my cock shrivelled across her arm. I bent forward as best I could. Helen’s hand, oh shit, her hand was way, way up inside my guts.
I managed to hold back the scream until I turned towards her. The eyes opened. She clenched her fist. My howl began as she pumped and flicked her fingers.
“Alright Harry?” she said.
“Have a hole.”
Lily Childs is a British writer of horror, chilling and macabre fiction. Her work has appeared in anthologies such as Caught By Darkness, Their Dark Masters and Daily Bites of Flesh as well as at different venues across the blogosphere. Lily is currently writing a novel or three. Find her at http://lilychildsfeardom.blogspot.com or follow http://twitter.com/lilychilds.