Will was screaming and crying, alternating with shouts of “YOU SHOT HIM!” The stranger just sighed.

  “Where to, kid?” he asked, in a moment of silence between a shout and a scream. No help — Will was not calming down.

  “I... told you... to...” a faint voice came from outside the car. A wet, broken voice. Will stopped, breathing loudly. The man was also surprised.

  “...GET. THA. FUCK. OUT. OF. HERE!” Old Moss yelled, grabbing the shotgun that had fallen next to him when he hit the ground.

  The stranger shoved Will’s head down, just a moment before the old man shot the car from the ground where he still was. That was the second shot of a double-barrel shotgun — they had a little time until the old man reloads. He opened the door at once, getting out of the car. Shards of the broken window fell on his coat. Old Moss fumbled for new shells, tried to stand — but the stranger shoved him down. The shotgun fell.

  The stranger put his right foot on the old man’s chest, pinning him down. The man on the ground yelled some obscenities at him, with what was left of his eyes dropping out of his face, blood spitting out of his mouth.

  “YOU ARE GONNA BURN!” he continued. Or tried to, but what came out was “YOUBLAEBLHONNABLURN”. His mouth was a bloody soup of spit and the last of his rotting teeth.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Then the stranger stomped the man's chest once, breaking his ribcage. The sound was mushy and wet, with a muffled cracking sound underneath. The old man went from cursing to gasping for air.

  Another stomp, another gooey and fracturing sound, more oozing and sludgy this time.

  Then another one.

  And one more.

  Until the man felt the ground under his foot. And no Old Moss gasping for air.

  This time, however, the stranger did not stop there. He grabbed the man by one of his feet, dragged him to an open fridge and tossed the man’s body inside. Then closed the door and rolled the fridge, door facing down. And to make sure, he dragged over another fridge and stacked it on top.

  Will did not see any of this, though. His head was still down, hands covering his ears. However, he heard. Oh yes, he heard all of it. All the mushing, the gasping, the cracking, the dragging. He was paralyzed, thinking he was in a nightmare. One of the very monsters of his childhood was stomped to death by his kidnapper. This was pure nightmare fuel to poor Will.

  The stranger started to walk back to the car when he heard it. Movement. Far away, something large and heavy moving. Then the sound came. A roar so loud it felt like thunder. The piles trembled. Loose trash rained down from all directions. The man stopped walking.

  Then it came again — this time, a word could be heard.

  Brother.

  The stranger smiled. He had found what he was looking for.