Show and Tell

Show and Tell
by Kelli Norris

“I awoke and knew instantly that something was wrong. There was a strange weight on the bed. I opened my eyes and I could make out the silhouette of a giant sitting on the edge of the bed. The light from the bathroom cast his mountainous shadow on the floor but made the rest of the bedroom seem even darker. I was scared to even move so I just lay very still with my eyes barely open trying to access the situation. Where was Shelly? My husband, Jack?

“It was all starting to come back to me in pieces. Shelly and I had fallen asleep in my bed talking about her latest teenage life or death crisis. This one’s name was Tim. My husband Jack, the sweetheart that he was, opted to give us some mother and daughter alone time and went to sleep in the guest room. I’m pretty sure he was just trying to avoid the drama but I couldn’t blame him.

“The man giant stood up and walked around the side of the bed. He barely  squeezed between the bed and the wall on the right hand side. I followed his progress as far as I could without moving my head that’s when I noticed Shelly was still in the bed beside me. I don’t know how I heard her breathing over the jackhammer beating in my chest but I did. She was alive. I had to make sure we both stayed that way. The most important thing was to stay calm and keep my head. Maybe, he was just after money or valuables and didn’t even intend to wake us. Then why had he been sitting on the bed?

“My mind went racing to the various weapons and things that could be used as weapons throughout the house. There was a rifle and shotgun under the bed. No way I could get to them, get them out of their cases and loaded in time. There was a bone handled switch blade I bought at a flea market in Florida, sitting on the computer stand near the bed. I might be able to palm it if I got the chance. There were a pair of scissors in the medicine cabinet of the bathroom, maybe I could make a grab for. There were crochet hooks in my craft basket in the living room, not to mention a Gerber Mark II fighting knife. Yes, you heard me right. I like knives, it was gift from my husband and it’s in my yarn basket because I am always losing my scissors.

“The man was behind me now standing on my side of the bed. The urge to turn around and move away from him was unbearable. I felt sensation of warmth start in the middle of my back right between my shoulder blades and grow larger. The pungent smell of urine filled my nostrils. Oh my god, tell me this isn’t happening to me. I felt a trail of hot wet piss hit the back of my neck and splash onto my hair and face. Then it was showering my head like water from a faucet. It saturated my hair so much that the wet strands clung to my face making me gag. That’s when I heard his voice telling me to, ‘Wake the fuck up, bitch.’ My heart seized and I thought I might pass out for real when I saw Shelly start to stir in her sleep. I rolled over feigning grogginess and caught the full stream of steaming urine square in the face. Gigantor must have found that funny because he chuckled to himself and started swinging the stream around my face in circles.

“I put my hand in front of my face and tried to focus on his features in the dimly lit room. His back was to the bathroom light so his face was still obscured in darkness. I saw his arms shake a few times in quick succession then the flow of smelly piss stopped. It was still running from my hair into my eyes and it burned something terrible but at least I was no longer drowning in it. Without warning the bastard grabbed me by my hair and drug me out of the bed.”

“I heard him say, ‘Wakey, wakey bitch. It’s time to get up and face the day!’”

“I wiped the hair and piss out of my eyes and stared my attacker in the face for the first time. I knew this guy. He had been in my house before. Jesus Christ, this bastard had been a quest in my house not more than a week ago. He was a member of my daughter’s writing group from the library. I had let her hold their weekly meeting at our house last week. What was his name? It started with an E… Ed… Edward. Maybe I was thinking of that stupid Twilight movie she was always going on about. But I know he was in my house prior to this night.”

“He said, ‘I see you remember me, Momma. That’s cool. It’s not like you will be around to tell anyone.’”

“My legs went weak with fear and fell against the bedroom wall for support. So that was it then, he did intend to kill us. He couldn’t let any of us live we knew his identity. Where was Jack? What if he was already dead? Oh god, what can I do?”

“Shelly shifted under the covers and mumbled, ‘Mom, what’s going on?’”

“I thought about screaming at Shelly to run while I jumped on Ed and pummeled the shit out of him with a lamp. I was a split second away from making my move when I saw the shotgun he had pointed at my daughter’s beautiful face. I froze. He poked her in the head with the hard metal barrel. She opened her eyes wide and scrambled into a sitting position with her back against the headboard of the bed and her knees pulled up to her chest. She was crying and shaking uncontrollably.

“Once I saw that gun pointed at my daughter’s head any thought of distracting the bastard while she ran away fled from my mind immediately. The fat fuck grabbed Shelly by her collar pulling her off the bed and throwing her into my arms. She was quickly approaching the point of hysteria. I put my arms around her and tried to calm her as best I could without incurring the wrath of the man with the gun, Ed. He pushed us towards the bedroom door causing us to fall against the computer table. I put my hand out to catch us, it was only inches away from my switchblade. I snatched the knife cupping it in my hand and bringing it close to my chest in the guise of holding Shelly’s hand.

“Ed  ushered us with lots of shoving and prodding into the living room. Shelly and I held each other tightly. I was grateful for even an illusion of protection and comfort. I stroked her long blond hair soothingly and was horrified to see blood oozing from her scalp. That bastard had poked her harder with the gun than I had realized. No wonder she was so out of it. I gripped the switchblade tighter making sure to flip the safety off. I told myself to bide my time. I had to make sure to strike at the best possible moment to achieve success.

“Another man appeared shoving my husband Jack into the room. Ed called this man Mike, much to the new man’s displeasure. He reprimanded Edward for using his name and implied once again that we would all have to die now. Mike shoved Jack towards the two of us; we grabbed my husband and pulled him into a three way hug for life. The minute Jack’s hand was in mine I pressed the switchblade into his hand looking him straight in the eye and kissing him tearfully. He acknowledged the trade with a slight nod of his head and a strained, ‘I love you.’”

“Michael Anthony Kirkland, otherwise known as Mike, I later learned was a wanted felon suspected of at least four murders, a dozen rapes, arson and numerous thefts. He had even made an episode of America’s Most Wanted. I missed it. He stood six foot four inches tall and weighted an incredible three hundred and fifty-five pounds. Every inch of his face, bald head, arms and hands were covered in tattoos. He truly was a monster in every sense of the word.

“Edward Tobias Hartman, hereby known as E. was Mike the Monster’s cousin.  E. was an apparent monster-in-training. He stood a mere six foot tall and weighted a measly three hundred and twenty pounds. His wrap sheet was still clean and he had no visible tattoos. He appeared for all intents and purposes to be gloriously white and nerdy. The type of fan boy you would find at any Star Trek convention or Tech event; he was quite the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Did I mention I invited him into my home just the week before? Yeah, that was really considerate of me don’t you think? It gave him the perfect opportunity to case the joint, so to speak. Anyway, I digress.


“Mike Monster laughed when he saw me kiss Jack, ‘Awww, it looks like all is forgiven eh, Momma? He looked at E. and said, ‘I found Dad sleeping in the guest room. I think Momma and him had a wittle tiff. What’s the matter Momma? Does the old man get mean when he drinks? Is that why you two sweet thangs are hiding together? Is the step daddy  showing your little girl too much attention, ya know what I mean?’”

“He made a couple of crude pelvic thrusts and I thought E. would bust a gut laughing. The sound was horrifying and Shelly started sobbing hysterically again. That’s when that bastard Mike really took notice of her. It was obvious he delighted in frightening the hell out of all of us but he took special pleasure in tormenting Shelly.

“I was watching Jack’s reaction and I could tell by the rage on his face that he was going to try something soon. My mind went instantly to the knife hidden in my yarn basket. I could just see the tip of the black handle sticking out from under the current afghan I was crocheting. I had to get that knife, it was an incredible weapon. It was designed by a retired Army Captain for close quarter combat. He patterned it after the Roman short sword. It was a perfect killing tool and I needed it now to kill E.

“I made eye contact with Jack and motioned with my eyes to the basket tucked neatly against my recliner just a few feet away. I winked at him and started to sway taking two steps from my family.”

“I feigned lightheadedness, ‘Oh god, I think I’m going to pass out.’ I cried as I crashed face first on to the floor positioning the crochet basket directly under me as I fell. I heard chaos erupt behind me. Shotguns were racked, Shelly screamed and Jack started desperately explaining how I have high blood pressure and if it gets too high I faint. I could hear him frantically telling them I just needed my meds.

“I was terrified any second I would feel my back explode from a shotgun blast but I still worked very slowly worked the knife out of the basket and under the folds of my big terry cloth robe. I thanked God again, that I was cold and had fallen asleep wearing it while talking to Shelly on the bed.  Once the knife was secured I rolled off the basket on to my back pretending to be semi-conscious and attempting to sit up.

“Mike shoved his gun in my face and told me to get my fat ass up before he blew my fucking head off. Jack begged him not to shoot that I was just sick but he had to shut up when E. put a shotgun to his head. I put both my hands on the side of the recliner next to me so they could see them and pulled myself to my feet still complaining of lightheadedness and blurred vision.

“He shoved me back into the arms of my husband and daughter; then demanded to know where these meds were Jack had mentioned. Jack pointed to the bathroom and told him the medicine cabinet. Mike grabbed Shelly by the arm and took her with him to the bathroom so we wouldn’t get any ideas while he was getting the drugs. They came back a couple of minutes later with Shelly  holding the entire contents of the medicine cabinet in her arms.

“He instructed her to set the meds on the table and start reading off the labels. When she got to Hydrocodone he snatched the bottle dumped some in his mouth capped it and tossed it to E., who immediately did the same. Shelly continued to read labels and anything else Mike Monster liked he stuffed in his pockets. 

“Mike Monster watched Shelly like a snake watches a mouse as she sorted the meds. At one point, he reached out and caressed her hair. She cringed but didn’t scream. I almost lost it and Jack must have known because he hugged me to his chest and whispered in my ear to wait, wait for the drugs to take effect. I got control of myself and tried to think of a way out of this nightmare.

“I offered them money, jewelry, cars, more drugs anything that would make them leave. They laughed at me. It was painfully obvious I was in no position to bargain. I told them I was a rich writer, Shirley Simmons, maybe they’d heard of me, and I had a ton of money in the bank. That was a lie of course. I was a moderately well off writer that had finally gotten a book deal after twenty years of struggling. The majority of my advance was tied up in the house and my line of credit was not that impressive.

“E. was smiling and laughing at my attempts of bribery a bit more than was appropriate. I could tell the hydros were starting to work. They both had that glassy-eyed look you get when your pupils dilate. MM grabbed a handful of Shelly’s long hair and pulled her backward up against him; yelling we didn’t need to go to the bank because we had everything he wanted right here.

“Shelly was sobbing and pleading with her eyes shut tight. He bent her over the back of the couch pinned her in place with his groin. My daughter screamed like she had been stabbed with a knife. I looked at Jack and we both knew we couldn’t wait any longer. He told me to wait for his signal and then go at E. with everything I had. MM was laughing manically as he grinded his pelvis against my baby’s rear end. E. was watching intently.

“Jack took a couple of steps toward the rapist while trying to reason with him, ‘Please, she is just a little girl…’”

“That really got MM going good. He replied with a disgusting comment about, ‘old enough to bleed, old enough to breed,’ and not to take another step he could see just fine from there. Jack stopped less than ten feet from where the monster had our daughter bent over the couch. It wasn’t far at all, but when a maniac with a gun on you was raping your daughter it seemed like the Grand Canyon. 

“Jack yelled at Shelly to look at him, to watch him. He kept telling her everything was going to be okay just to watch him, not to take her eyes off him. She did. She stopped crying and did what her daddy told her to do. She was so brave. She watched him even when MM pulled her pajama bottoms down and ripped her panties off. She never took her tear-filled eyes off her father.

“It took every ounce of will I could muster not to watch what was unfolding but I couldn‘t allow it. My eyes were on E. He WAS watching MM like a hawk and getting more and more excited by the second. He didn’t even notice me inching closer to him.

“I heard more than saw MM unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. What happened next is really more a blur of sounds and images than actual memory. The first thing I remember was Shelly’s scream then Jack moving fast out of the corner of my eye. He yelled, ‘Now!’”

“I pulled the knife out of my robe and ran screaming like a madwoman. I threw myself against E. driving the six inch blade into the center of the man’s  soft throat just below the Adam’s apple and above the collar bone. Next thing I heard was his shotgun discharge as he fell backward with me on top of him still screaming and stabbing.

“Then I heard MM’s gun go off and instantly felt my back and legs ignite into flames. It literally felt like my back was on fire but I still kept stabbing the man beneath me. The knife was slick with blood and kept slipping in my hands.  E. was making a horrible gurgling sound but was still moving so I kept stabbing and screaming. I heard what sounded like the couch getting knocked over and scuffling sounds, grunts, thuds and guttural growls.

“Another shot rang out but this one was different. It wasn’t a shotgun blast like the others this sounded smaller like a handgun. I stopped stabbing and my screams tapered off. It was quite obvious E. was dead. His head was practically severed from his shoulders. The only thing keeping it connected was a stringy pulpy mass that use to be his neck.

“I tried to stand up but my legs wouldn’t work. My back still felt like it was on fire but I realized that I couldn’t feel my legs at all. In fact, I couldn’t feel anything below my waist. I rolled off E. and turned myself towards the couch mainly with my arms. The couch was flipped over and I could just see Shelly’s arm and her hair sticking out from under it. She wasn’t moving and there was a pool of blood forming. I had to get to her but the pain in my back was blinding. I started to pull myself across the floor with my arms but after only a few feet a wave of nausea washed over me and I emptied my stomach contents onto the floor. Lying in my own vomit trying to get to my daughter is the last thing I remember.

“I woke up in a hospital days later. Jack, my husband, was dead. Michael had a .45 caliber handgun hidden on him that Jack didn’t know about or maybe he did. Anyway, Jack was fatally wounded but he took that fucking monster out with him. 

“My daughter Shelly survived the attack but it left its mark on her was well. She was irreparably disfigured by a partial shotgun blast. The stray pellets turned her beautiful face into hamburger. It would take several painful surgeries just to make her look human again. She killed herself six months after it happened. I can’t really blame her. I think about doing the same thing everyday.

“I guess that makes me the lucky one. I should be happy to be alive. How does that work? Monsters came and took everything in the world that made my life worth living and left me this!” Shirley banged her fists on her wheelchair, “But I’m lucky?”

She looked around the group like she was coming out of a daze. This session consisted of six other patients beside herself and the psychologist, Mrs. Newman. They were all seated in a circle in the middle of the therapy room listening to Shirley’s story.

One of the patients, Mary, a young woman of nineteen years, with long black hair, pale complexion and pretty features starting clapping excitedly.

“Good story! That was really really scary! I was so scared I almost peed my pants! Tell it again!” Mary pleaded.


“Mary! Remember our discussion about appropriate responses?” asked Mrs. Newman.

Before Mary could answer another patient, a man named, Bob cried, “That’s no fair! My turn! My turn! You said I was next!”

Shirley turned her wheelchair around and started to leave the circle. Ignoring Mrs. Newman’s protest that the session was not over. A teenage boy named James informed the group if Shirley was leaving so was he. Mrs. Newman told him no one was allowed to leave the group but by then everyone in the room was talking at once and no one could hear her anyway. The entire session had degenerated into total chaos. Mrs. Newman blew her whistle which summoned the orderlies and had to have all the patients escorted back to their rooms.

Mary absolutely loved her weekly group therapy session. Everyone told the best stories. It was just like show and tell.