This story involves characters that belong to Marvel comics. The story itself belongs to me.

Continuity be damned.

This story will be disturbing to sensitive readers and to just about anyone else.

This story was inspired by Into The Silence, Screaming, by Amanda Sichter, but is in no way a sequel.

Taking Care of Our Own

D Benway


Yeah, I did it. I killed him. You going to hit me again?

Course it hurts. You know what a broken arm feels like.

When he hit me I swallowed my gum. I'm worried about that. Might get stuck in my appendix and you'd have to open me up.

Thank you, Blueballs. It _does_ put my mind to rest.

You want to know why or how? Make up your minds.

Course they don't know I'm gone. Had some help. She fixed your security, too.

She helped me. Couldn'tve done it by myself.

She's on her way back home. She's got your patient with her.

If you took off now, you could catch up with her. Catch her over the Atlantic, take out the plane. Leave her out there. She'd starve before she could walk to shore.

Oh yeah? Back in Africa, don't they throw unwanted kittens in bags with rocks-

You really know how to hit little girls.

We held hands, she phased us, we put the steel plate in his throat, we let go. Surprised you didn't hear that.

Had to kick it across the room. It was trying to connect back up.

Didn't stomp on it. It tried to grow a new body. Couldn't do it, it kinda all collapsed.

How do you think I felt?

It was both of our ideas. Can't say if it was hers or mine.

When we saw what he bought home. Thanks for sending us the pictures, Boy Scout. You might want to get the fuck out of here, now.


We saw her. You had her cuffed-

'Restrained'. You had'r 'restrained' to the bed with cuffs. She said you didn't tell McTaggert anything. Kept it all between whatsername and Blueballs. She didn't know who we were. Was she like that when you showed her your pictures?

I knew who it was. I know why it was him.

It was when I saw him, I called her. We talk sometimes.

Share some history.

She came when I told her.

You should leave, Boy Scout.

'Cause I don't want to get hit again.

He smelled, he lived in a Goodwill box by the Food Lion.

I used to talk to him.

He didn't deserve to die like that.

Did you find anything about him from the cops?

He was a monk, long time ago.

Close. They used to send him girls.

They wouldn't talk to the nuns, because they'd been fucked by nuns.

Well, he kinda got involved with one. They kicked his ass out of the church, he got married, started drinking. They had a race. She won.

Because I could talk to him about stuff. Get it now?

No, I'm not saying he 'forced himself' on me. I was into it. Thought I was anyway. If this was Japan way back when, I'd have kids by now.

Twelve times.

Said I reminded him of her.

Yes, I _am_ saying that. Don't care how good she is school, you can't always be smart. 'Sides, when the shit came down out there, Metalhead wouldn't cooperate.

So don't believe me.

Ended when she got all fucked up and had to go away. Why'd you think she didn't come back? Ever ask?

Why's it so hard to believe? She thought he liked oriental women 'cause they looked like kids for longer.

I _did_ try to end it. Wasn't even fun the first time. You know how scary he can be.

He didn't want me to say no. I was glad when you dumped me on Frostbite.

It didn't stop him.


February 25.

Six weeks ago.

I did tell someone else. I TOLD _YOU_, ASSHOLE.

After Yana died. You used lots of big words, and you gave me a needle, and you said I was upset cause Yana died, and you said all kinds'a shit about fathers and daughters. Like you'd fucking know.

Go on. You're almost there. I didn't think of it, 'til I saw those pictures.

What'd you expect? Hit me that hard, course I'm gonna puke.

Washes out of spandex. You should know.


We looked up all the hotels and motels and shit like that near where she was found. She couldn'tve gone far. Kitty pretended she was working in a store, and some woman had stiffed her. Took us nine tries to find the right place.

Hideaway Motel. It's like half a mile away.

Two people rented a cabin. Red-headed woman in sunglasses. Little short guy on a motorcycle. Had a fight. Found a big mess in the cabin, lots of empty bottles. Short guy paid cash to fix up the place and left. She gave us his phone number. Couldn't get Mr. Patch on the phone.

You're not listening. He didn't need to do it all the time. He could wait.

How the fuck do I know? I don't live here. How often you see them go off somewhere together?

Maybe there is. Can you think of a better one?

Unless he knew. Baldy needed him. We're supposed to be 'mature' for our age. What's a little fuck among friends?

Your evil twin have anything to say? Didn't she have a thing for Boy Scout?

Look. I wanted to. I thought I did. We both did. Did she? Dunno.

Don't know how long. Maybe more than once. We think she wanted to end it.

Lots of people do shit like that. When they do, they usually tell their friends, right?

Smelly old crazy hits her on the back of the head, drags her off in the woods and rapes her. You all go out on a little hunt, and oh! here's the fucker, right here in town. How did he get her 'cross the fucking river? It's 60 miles from here.

Yeah, he could've drove, if he knew how to. Fucking guy lived in a monastery most of his life. Did you even try to find out what the cops knew about him?

How the fuck should I know? Maybe he wasn't the best at everything he did. He was a man. Now he's dead. Am I next?