Free Depravity by Ian Woodhead Page B

away. He felt the blood in his vein chill down a few degrees at the sight of the woman who for so many years attempted to convince him that she was his real mother leaned across the knee high brick wall and snipped off two red roses.
    “How can this even be fucking possible?” he gasped. Kevin's mouth felt as dry as the bottom of a bird cage.
    The woman selected another three more roses before heading over to the next raised bed. He remembered watching her perform this routine at least twice a week. The flowers were for the tables in the dining room. She insisted on fresh flowers, if possible, picked from the hotel's own garden.
    “Have you ever wondered why those beds were able to produce such a high yield, season after season?”
    Kevin looked up to find that the apparition of Alistair now stood over him, his tiny frame blocking out the sun's rays. He wanted to be sick, Kevin was almost ready to accept that he could have either gone back in time. The appearance of him though just meant that he hadn't gone anywhere. No doubt, his shivering body was still lying on that cold stone floor.
    “Cat got your tongue, young man?” The apparition bent his knees. “No matter, it's fine. I can accept that this is your last act of defiance. It's only natural to hate me, after all, you think that I'm about to completely ruin your sad little life, to uproot everything you do.” Alistair grinned. “Nobody likes having their comfortable routines destroyed do they?”
    “Why can't you leave me alone?”
    “Oh please, stop it with the waterworks. You're breaking my heart.” The apparition giggled. “You really are a sad little bitch, ain't ya! Is that what you want me to do? You want me to leave you here so mummy can give little Kevin a big hug?”
    Kevin growled low in his throat, momentarily forgetting the pretend Alastair had full access to his thoughts and memories. Meaning that fucker knew his last barbed comment would sting. Fuck, what had he done to deserve this mistreatment? His mother was blissfully unaware that he or the ghost thing were observing her. He so wished that it wasn't so. She'd soon sort out the ghost thing, and then she could give him a hug, just like she used to.
    He remembered those hugs with great fondness. Kevin so looked forward to burrowing under her patterned dress, snuggling against the woman's soft, warm flesh and clamping his mouth on her nipples.
    Even years after his father forced him onto his sister, Kevin still preferred to receive hugs from his mum. The evocative combination of Imperial Leather soap and stale sweat never failed to pull him out of the bad places.
    Every session began with him saying the words – the shared joy that they'd both receive and the promise not to breathe a word to Dad. That was one promise he found very easy to keep, considering it was usually him who put Kevin into the bad place. Their secret never got out. Tell dad about the hugs? He used to shudder at the thought of him ever finding out. The shudders never lasted long though, thanks to mum.
    Let that animal abuse the girl in the cellar and let him fuck the female victims. If he was pouring out all of his pent up rage and perversions on them, he left the pair of them alone, giving them more time to cuddle.
    “I notice that you still haven't answered my question, Kevin. Come on, an inquisitive boy like you must have wondered about the flowers.”
    His mother had almost filled her basket. He noticed that today's preference leaned towards orange and yellow. The colours matched the dress.
    That wasn't his favourite dress, due to the material being a little tight across her waist. Even so, he still lost count on the amount of times he had crawled underneath it. The woman was too far away for him to see clearly, but he knew the left side would have a line of similar coloured stitching running from her thigh to her midriff. That had been a hastily undertaken repair job after little Kevin had become too excited. Thinking