Little Boy Shamed

Emmy Bergeron

Description

XI Thou shalt not shame one another.
XII Thou shalt not seek revenge on those who shamed thee.

Getting away with murder, a psychopath eludes detectives. Each killing is unique with no obvious pattern. He continues to kill those who shame him, and the voice inside his head encourages him.

The story of Jack is a frightening look at what could happen when your words deeply hurt someone. Chilling.
Amy G.

Dystopian, demonic, vengeful murders to keep you up at night.
Jackie I.

So real, you can imagine the murders slowly stealing your soul. Emmy makes you feel like you’re the one doing the killing.
David V.

Sujets

• Horror
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Archway Publishing
• Date de parution: 17 mai 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781665743082
• Langue: English

Extrait

LITTLE BOY SHAMED
 
 
EMMY BERGERON
 
 

 
Copyright © 2023 Emmy Bergeron.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
 
Archway Publishing
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.archwaypublishing.com
844-669-3957
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
ISBN: 978-1-6657-4307-5 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6657-4308-2 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023907964
 
Archway Publishing rev. date: 05/02/2023
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
A special thanks to my loving husband, Joe, for his interest and encouragement in all my writings.
My first book, “The Vacaunts” is a science fiction account of an evil clone’s desires to take over church and government.
“Silver Threads,” is poetry dedicated to God, family, friends, loves, exes and poetry just for silliness and fun.
My children’s book, “Teddy Tadpole Takes a Trip,” written by me and illustrated by my sister, Denise, teaches children what could happen when they don’t follow the rules.
All of the above are available at Amazon, Kindle.
I know you’ll enjoy my second book, “Little Boy Shamed,” a riveting fictional story of an abused child intent on revenge of his abusers.
I am also available to write poetry for your special occasion.
[e-mail]
SYNOPSIS
There should be two more commandments for all of us.
XIThou shalt not shame one another.
XIIThou shalt not seek revenge on those who shamed thee.
This is the story of Jack, a little boy who was abused in utero and shamed all through his childhood. As he grew into adulthood, his hatred of his mother triggered the killings of those who reminded him of her. These murders were the prelude to his sexual gratifications.
The killings give him power over those who mistreat him, and The Voice inside his head, encourages him. You may be living next to someone like Jack; someone who looks and acts normal, someone you may even like, or someone you accidently triggered into a memory of his mother.
He may be still out there, looking for you.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1 When I’m born
Chapter 2 Moving Out
Chapter 3 Mom’s Birthday
Chapter 4 Behind the scenes
Chapter 5 No Regrets
Chapter 6 My Big Rig
Chapter 7 Betty’s Diner
Chapter 8 Buying my Harley
Chapter 9 Sister Rosalind’s Payback
Chapter 10 Investigating Sr. Rosalind’s Murder
Chapter 11 The Hitchhiker
Chapter 12 Another dead body
Chapter 13 The Arkansas Hooker
Chapter 14 The FBI
Chapter 15 Betty’s Misfortune
Chapter 16 Investigation of Betty’s Death
Chapter 17 The Gloria Incident
Chapter 18 The Biker Bar
Chapter 19 The Biker Chick Murder Investigation
Chapter 20 My One Act of Kindness
Chapter 21 The Fear of Being Caught
Chapter 22 Rendezvous with Charlene
Chapter 23 To Catch a Killer
Chapter 24 The Little Red Convertible
Chapter 25 The Need to Catch a Killer
Chapter 26 Maybe the Last Time, Maybe Not
CHAPTER O NE WHEN I’M BORN
In a few months, I will be born and my name will be Jack, but I’ll learn to answer to hey kid, dumb shit, idiot, stupid jackass, jack-off, jack shit and a lot of other names my mother will call me. My mother’s name is Betty. She has mousey brown hair she pulls back in a bun. She drinks and smokes a lot. She’s not a very good dresser, usually pea-green, polyester slacks and a cream colored button down, stained blouse, but she always manages to have a new boyfriend around.
When I was about six months in utero, mom tried to abort me. She had her then current boyfriend, who knows, it could have even been my dad, kick her in the stomach. Well, it didn’t work, but where I was lying, he did break my right leg, just below my knee. It hurt really badly. I felt afraid and trapped unable to get out or get away from the pain. I cried ‘Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!’ No one heard me. “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! But, still, no one heard me.
I’ll walk with a slight limp. One day, I heard someone say I’d probably be born with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, but I don’t know what that means, yet. I do know that when my mother gets drunk, I get dizzy and upset. I feel sick. I don’t like it. Some days it’s hard to think, but I do think I hate her. She’ll be sorry someday for not caring even when I wasn’t born yet.
The doctor will tell my mom that I’d have Fetal Alcohol Syndrome that will result in learning difficulties, and I’ll need more education in daily living skills. He will tell her that I will probably have delirium tremens, the DT’s, from alcohol withdrawal if she doesn’t stop drinking while carrying me. I think she won’t be listening. I can feel her resentful attitude in my little unborn heart already. She’ll care for her mangy, disgusting old cat more than she’ll care for me.
The doctors will say the delivery went smoothly, but it will scare me, all scrunched up and banging my head trying to get out. Again, I’ll feel trapped and afraid. I will be born a month early and spend my first few weeks in an incubator. The incubator will be warm, but the feeding tube in my nose will really hurt. That will only last a week. The doctors will tell my mom that my right leg is misshapen, but they can’t fix it then, and it will have to stay that way.
Only nurses will touch me and hold me and cuddle me during my withdrawal. My body will be tense and rigid, my crying will sound like screams, sometimes someone’s touch will make me tremble, my reflexes will be hyperactive even to sound.
Where is my mother? Why are others hugging and kissing me when my mother is not? She won’t want to. I will already know the anguish of not being cuddled by my mother, the feeling of abandonment, and the heartache of neglect. The only words I will hear are from the nurses who will care for me, say how tiny and cute I am, like a little doll with intense blue eyes. They will say, “It’s too bad he has to go through this, poor little guy.” I will feel their concern for me. That will be my only motive to survive.
All my life, I’ll have problems. I’ll be verbally and physically abused by a mother who didn’t want me. So many times I won’t be fed. My tummy will hurt with hunger. My unchanged diapers will cause such a rash that I bleed. I’ll cry a lot because it hurts, but that will just make everyone angry and be rough with me. Won’t anyone love me the way I would like to be loved? I think I’ll hate her.
I’ll be clumsy and uncoordinated. That Fetal Alcohol Syndrome thing will cause me many problems growing up. Sometimes I will cry when I fall or when someone picks on me. My mom will call me a big cry baby. She won’t kiss my boo-boos, even bad ones that hurt so much I cry. I’ll hear it again, and again, ‘you big cry baby.’ I’ll cry because I’ll be afraid of the boogie man she’ll tell me about. She will tell me he lives in my closet and will get me if I don’t behave. She will tell me they eat little boys who don’t behave. Then she will call me a big cry baby again. I will learn not to cry when she hits me for whatever she thinks I will do wrong. I’ll think I’ll know what’s right and wrong, but to me, right is sometimes wrong for her. I think I’ll hate her for that.
In a few years, I’ll walk into her bedroom to see what all that moaning is about. I will think her boyfriend was hurting her. She and her boyfriend will jump out of bed, naked, and chase me down the hall to my room. I will be so terrified. They will lock me in. There won’t be anything to do except lie on my bed and dream about someday being a normal kid. I won’t know what I did that day that was so wrong. At least this time, she won’t hit me. That night I’ll go without dinner again. She’ll be too drunk to remember what happened or what I saw. I’ll hate her for that.
My mother will lock me in my room many times and blame me that her current boyfriend abandoned her. I’ll have such low self-esteem that I’ll be afraid to look at her in case she doesn’t like it. Sometimes, I’ll wet the bed. She will yell at me and beat me with a belt. She’ll say that at my age, I should be able to hold it all night. I can’t help it, it just happens. I will hate her.
Someday, I’ll be three years old. She will tell me there will be no birthday celebrations, there is no Easter Bunny, there is no Santa Claus, and Christmas is just a reason for people to buy things they didn’t need. I won’t need anything, she will say. And, I wasn’t supposed to cry about it. I’ll hate her for that. I’ll have no brothers or sisters to talk to. I’ll never forget how I will be treated. All I will ever want is to be loved, but it won’t happen. One day, she’ll tell me that no one, not any woman could ever love me because of my limp and that my clumsiness is something no one could put up with, even her.
My room will be very small with one dirty, bare window. It will s