27th Day - Stacy’s Mom

Reading time: 5 min

Photo by Lefteris kallergis on Unsplash

Hugh had always been too arrogant to see beyond his beliefs, and his beliefs, very often, made very little sense. He was only fourteen when he was introduced to Stacy, but the hints of the man he would become (or, rather, the man he would have become) were sprinkled all over his personality.

That’s what being good at football gives you, especially early in life. His father was so proud of his accomplishments that he let him do whatever he wanted.

Called in for bullying? He’s just a boy.

Caught spying girls in the locker room? Hormones are a rollercoaster at that age.

Killed the school hamster? He’s busy preparing for the semi-finals; buy another rat.

And so on and so forth; every week a new excuse.

Which is why Stacy was so thrilled to have him for the weekend. She was a shy girl: thin and flat like a strip of passport pictures, but passionate about a lot of things which would have been cool if she was already in college. She was different from her mother; unnoticeable, negligible, invisible next to her. Her mom was so powerful there was no power left.

That’s why being Hugh’s friend was fundamental to her school life. He was popular, and above every law.

Hugh had gladly accepted the invite, not because he liked Stacy—he barely knew her—but because of her mom.

They had a pool, it was the middle of a hot summer, and he had promised all his friends a picture of Stacy’s mom in a bikini. He had also promised himself something much more daring.

What’s funny is that he was absolutely convinced he could deliver. Every teenager is delusional, but he brought delusion to a new level.

When his dad dropped him off on Saturday morning, he had warned him about Stacy’s family.

“Her mom is the worst,” he’d said. “She sucks the life out of men.”

“Is she a vampire?” Hugh had joked.

“Worse: she’s a lawyer.”

He had agreed to let Hugh spend the night at Stacy’s because he had all intentions to drink until he passed out that night. He’d just escaped a conviction for a rape he did commit; there had never been a better reason to celebrate.

Stacy was overly eager to please Hugh. She showed him her books, her fencing equipment, the games room with the massive tv and the snooker table, but he didn’t care.

He wanted to know where her mother’s bedroom was and, most of all, he wanted to hang by the pool.

Stacy agreed, although she was immensely self-conscious of her childish body.

“Where’s your mom?” Hugh asked her while swimming.

“I don’t know. Working, probably.”

“When is she coming back?”

“Never, I hope,” she said, but then noticed how displeased Hugh was and changed her tone. “I don’t know,” she said. “Usually late.”

Hugh had a good feeling about it. He could sense that something was going to happen, so he acted on it.

He entered the bathroom while Stacy was taking a shower.

She screamed, begged him to go away, and yet he stayed, indifferent, as if deaf.

“Pee,” he demanded.

“What?”

“Pee yourself.”

“Why?” Stacy was desperately trying to grow a thousand arms to cover her naked body.

“Because if you don’t do it, I’ll tell everyone at school that you have a small dick between your legs.”

He took a picture of her but didn’t share it. The blackmailing was not finished, he believed.

When he went to sleep, he didn’t even remember what he’d done to Stacy; while she was in the kitchen, weeping, choosing slowly which knife would better end her shame.

She picked one, but then her mother’s hand appeared out of the silence of the empty kitchen and stopped her; not violently, rather gently instead.

“Mom! When you...”

“Don’t worry, my dear. Everything’s going to be alright. I’ll protect you, always. Go to bed,” she said, and Stacy did, because she trusted her mom.

Hugh woke up, disturbed by his own erection. He pondered, with his eyes closed, whether or not to use it on Stacy, when suddenly his gut feeling turned into foreboding. Stacy’s mom was in his room. She was in her underwear and had his phone between her hands.

“Is this yours?” she asked.

“Yes. Give it back.” He tried to extend an arm but found himself restrained. He turned his head, noticing for the first time he’d been tied to the bed.

“What, oh, I see: you want me,” he said.

Stacy’s mom laughed, then started recording and placed the phone on a shelf.

“If I were you, I’d record it as well,” he said, hinting at his penis.

“Probably not,” Stacy’s mom said. “You know, you and your dad are the same. You like to get under little girls’ skin, don’t you?”

From the desk, she grabbed a knife. The same knife her daughter was about to use.

“What do you want to do with that? Put it down!”

“Let’s see if you like when someone gets under your skin.”

“If you touch me, my dad will kill you. You’re going to jail, you bitch. You hear me?”

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. Now, smile for the camera. Your dad is going to enjoy this, but not as much as I will.”

And, with the knife, she slashed Hugh’s skin, ripping it off as if he was a rabbit ready to be cooked. He screamed for hours, and when he stopped was still alive, but not for long.