Free The Hand That Feeds: A Horror Novel by Michael W. Garza Page B

focused as something worked its way through her mind. She came to a stop a few feet from him, leaning back against the dining room table. “You sure did,” she said. “You acted like a coward.” She didn’t say the words any different, but the last phrase cut hard at John. She was still smiling.
    “I couldn’t do it,” he said. “It’s not like we’re talking about pulling a cow in the house and-”
    “Yes it is,” she said, her voice taking on a deeper note as she pushed off the table and took a long step toward him. “That’s exactly what it’s like. If you had to eat and the only thing that would satisfy you was some stupid cow…” Her smile widened. “…would you have a problem bringing it to the slaughter?”
    John knew she was trapping him , but he fell right into it anyway.
    “No,” he said.
    “This is the same thing,” she insisted, then took another step toward him and placed her hand on his belt. “Your son needs to eat. We brought a cow in for the slaughter and all you had to do was make the finishing cut.”
    John pursed his lips. His head was a mess. Any time he could get away from Angela for an extended period , the weight of what was happening in his house came to the forefront. However, when she got a hold of him, his strength didn’t stand a chance.
    “I said I messed up,” he said. “When the moment came, I couldn’t do it.”
    He shook his head, disgusted with himself. No matter what was going on in his life, he couldn’t stand to disappoint his wife. She’d had a powerful control over him for as long as he could remember. Angela abruptly turned away and walked back down the hall. John hesitated and then followed after her. She stopped in front of Alex’s door and held her ear against the wood. Like a mother cat, she slowly scratched at the door. She continued the act until a haunting mimic could be heard clearly from the other side.
    “Do you want to tell him?” she asked without looking at John. “Do you want to tell your son he’s going to have to suffer because you were a coward?”
    She didn’t wait for an answer. Angela pulled her face away, kissed her hand , and held it up lovingly to the door. She walked towards her bedroom with a smile in place.
    John sighed heavily as his shoulders slouched. “ But, babe…” Angela didn’t respond. He was close to where she wanted him. A small push in the right direction would put things back in the right direction. “Babe,” he said, calling after her as he stepped into their bedroom.
    “I don’t know what you want me to say,” she said. “He’s gone now.” She motioned out at the hall. John stood in the doorway defeated. She sat down on the bed and looked up at him. Her eyes shifted as if trying to think of some way to fix the problem. “What do you think we should do?” she asked. “It’s not like I enjoy letting the creep rub up against me.” She leaned back on the bed resting on her elbows; the edge of her shirt road up far enough to prove she hadn’t put on anything underneath.
    John looked on without bothering to hide what he was doing. The Jack Daniels in his system was beginning to have its way with his mind. He found it difficult to keep up with the importance of the conversation. All he knew , was he didn’t want Angela mad at him. He thought back to the events following their bath together as he stumbled into the room. He edged closer to the bed and her expression changed. She didn’t have to say it, but he knew at once that he wasn’t welcome to see anything else underneath the shirt.
    “He was all over me,” she said and then frowned. “It’s not like I want another man to run his hands over my skin.”
    John felt the comment stick in his head. “What do you want me to do?” he asked after a long pause.
    Angela smiled again. She leaned back further and dropped on her back. The edge of her shirt rose up above her waist. “I want you to fix the problem,” she said. “If it makes you