The Garage 2 - Deep In The Corn Page 7

  Angel let out a small cry of joy rather than terror because now she would be able to tell Susan the truth. She put her hands on Susan’s and looked deep into her eyes.

  “Mrs. Smith, you’ve known me my whole life practically and you really know deep down the kind of person that I am. I’ve never hurt anyone in my entire life. And you know I loved Heather like a sister.’

  Susan could feel herself getting chocked up, yet she was a little scared from the way Angel was talking in that half whispering, half crying voice.

  “I didn’t kill your daughter Mrs.Smith.”

  A flow of tears fell from Susan’s eyes but she kept quiet and let Angel speak. Angel looked down at the table and then back to Susan.

  “It was just another Friday night with the four of us hanging out, messing with Ron’s car, you know.”

  Angel looked down again feeling a sense of shame by leaving out a particular and bloody memory from that night, one that involved her hand and a menstruating vagina. She left that part out and for good reason. Some secrets will forever be with the garage.

  She continued, “There was a bang on the roof from out of nowhere. There was something out on the roof of the garage. We didn’t know what it was. Everyone started yelling at one another and freaking out because we thought no one else knew about the garage.”

  “Then things got real bad from there. Whatever was on the roof had jumped down and busted through the garage door.”

  Angel stopped and had to regain her composure. Susan’s eyes were glued to her; there hands still touching.

  “I don’t know what it was. It didn’t seem real. It was…..was.”

  She couldn’t go on. The memory was too horrifying.

  “What was it Angel?” Susan asked, her voice strained with anxiety.

  “It was…..this thing.”

  Angels frown was more defined now and her tone was full of horror and sickness.

  “I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It wasn’t an animal. It was more like…..a monster. It was about seven or eight feet tall and it looked homemade and it had this mouth made of sharp metal and those eyes, those red glaring eyes!” She covered her mouth and cried.

  “Mrs. Smith, this thing…..it killed your daughter. I saw it. It pulled her away from me and drug her out of the garage and out into the cornfield. Oh my God!” Angel began to sob uncontrollably.

  Tears were falling down Susan’s face but she had it together. She was angry though at Angel for making up such an insane story.

  “I’m so sorry Susan. It’s the truth. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

  And of course Susan knew Angel wouldn’t lie to her about anything but her tale was too tall.

  It wasn’t me.

 

  1997

  Sitting there in the dark in her room, Susan’s jagged thoughts were coming together. Things were falling into place. It had come full circle. She began to hyperventilate when she thought of Eldon’s story and then what Angel told her.

  The horror that she’s been holding in all day ever since Eldon explained how he and his father constructed a scarecrow in their barn, finally came out in an anguished howl.

  It was a long and painful cry full of confusion, guilt, sadness and despair. She jumped out of bed and began pacing back and forth in her room. She was still breathing hard. Her panic attack was in full force. She stopped in front of her mirror and stared at herself; tears running down her face. She pounded the dresser hard with her fists.

  “It can’t be. It just can’t be!”

  But it was all true, no matter how bizarre or overwhelming. She cried out again and collapsed onto her dresser. She thought again about that visit and how they never talked about it ever again. But she never did forget Angel’s story as crazy as it sounded.

  Throughout the years it would randomly pop into her head and she would just shrug it off either when she was washing dishes, sitting on the toilet or flipping channels late at night. She continued to visit Angel up until 1994, despite her claims. She still craved that connection with her daughter and Angel was the one to provide it.

  Suddenly the phone rang downstairs. Although in world of grief, Susan managed to pull herself up and wipe her tears away and go answer the phone.

  She answered it.

  “Susan, its Eldon.”

  “Hey,” she said trying to sound somewhat normal.

  “I’m sorry for calling you at this hour.”

  “That’s ok. I….I was up.” She began to cry again.

  “Are you all right Susan?”

  “I’m sorry Eldon. I know….I know. I’ve always known.”

  “That’s all right Mrs. Smith. I hold nothing against you. It’s very scary. I know. But it is true.”

  “I was just too baffled to say anything earlier. But everything you told me is true. I know all about that monster. The girl with long black hair told me seventeen years ago. She confided in me and I just blew it off. But when I heard your story today I became so frightened.”

  She sobbed some more because she knew now that Angel was innocent. “She didn’t do it. She was innocent. Oh, my dear God.”

  “I’m sorry Susan for your heartache right now.”

  “I apologize for blubbering like this.”

  “That’s quite all right Susan.”

  They were both silent for a moment and then Susan asked Eldon if he would like to have lunch with her tomorrow. He kindly accepted and then told her that there was something very important he needed to talk to her about. He found something that may hold the answer to the true origin of the scarecrow and even more so, how to destroy it.

  Susan said, “Meet me at Joe’s Diner on route 11.”

 

 

  Part 2

  Terrorbound: The Diary of Angel Larson

  March 11th 1976

  This. Is. Fucking. Stupid. Goodbye.

  March 12th 1976

  Still fucking stupid. Suck it.

  March 13th 1976

  Can’t get any stupider. Fuck off.

  March 14th 1976

  Dumbstupidfuckinggoddamassholecuntfucker! Kiss my ass!

  March 15th 1976

  Ok, so at the request of my doctor, the mildly handsome Dr. Stone, he suggested that I try writing my thoughts and feelings down in a journal or diary. Whatever. Stupid.

  March 16th 1976

  Here’s a thought: I’m horny right now and I like the smell of pee. How’s that doc? In fact I like it so much that when I was a girl, I don’t know, thirteen or fourteen, I would go in the bathroom right after my mom was done peeing just so I could smell her. I’m a sick girl aren’t I doctor. Just a depraved, girl perv sex freak. Big fucking deal!

  March 17th 1976

  I miss bloody Pete and the fun we had. Ok, so it wasn’t fun when all those guys were done fucking me. That was the hard part. I knew it wouldn’t last forever. Things usually don’t. Even best friends. Wow, my first non cussing diary entry. Still fucking stupid.

  March 18th 1976

  It’s raining right now. I am supposed to start group therapy today. I don’t want to go. Anita, my nurse, who is actually very nice and different from the other nurses and doctors, told me that those group sessions might help me and that I should just try going.

  March 19th 1976

  So, I took Anita’s advice and went to the stupid therapy session. I didn’t talk much other than saying my name. I mostly just listened to everyone else’s problems. Holy shit! I thought I had problems. The thought of telling these people straight out that I can’t stop touching my vagina seemed almost funny compared to what they were saying. It was crazy! Drug addicts and their hallucinations of jumping off buildings and being able to fly, failed suicide attempts, people thinking the f.b.i are watching them, people who think they’re possessed, people who feel the need to bark, pull out their hair, bath in mayonnaise, people who laugh and cry at the same time and this one lady that never speaks. I’m not like these people. I have issues, but not
like these. Then, when it was over and as I was getting up to go back to my hell cell, the lady doing the session came up to me and asked me if I wanted to talk about what happened in the garage. I had no idea what she was talking about. I don’t know of any damn garage, all I know is that my best friend is dead and I’m stuck in here for life. I’m starting to get a headache right now, just thinking about all of this. I’m going to masturbate now.

  March 20th 1976

  I started my period today. It’s a heavy one too. I was finally able to take off my wrist brace today. It feels so nice not to have it chocking my damn wrist. I guess that’s what I get for not being able to keep my hands off myself. Anyway dear diary, I went into my bathroom to get a pad and as I pulled my panties down, I got a big whiff of myself. I just went for it. I couldn’t help myself. I figured it would be ok since I’m only getting off twice a day now. When I was done, it looked like someone was murdered in there; all that fucking blood all over the toilet seat. It cleans up easy, thank god……………………………………I don’t know if I should write this down or not……………………something very weird just happened…………………………fuck, I can’t stop crying…………………….just had a really scary thought, I don’t know why.

  March 22nd 1976

  Happy 24th birthday to me! Big deal.

  March 24st 1976

  Spring is finally here! Excuse me dear diary but I need to go have some private time in the bathroom, oh let’s say for about an hour or so.

  March 24st 1976

  That was fun! Just went ahead and did it on the toilet. I peed before I did and just let it sit in there. I like to smell it sometimes when I play with myself. I also like to smell my vagina when I get off too. I’ll get my left hand good and wet with myself and then smell it while I play with myself. Is that weird, dear diary!

  March 25th 1976

  So, I broke my streak of going at it twice a day and am now back up too four times a day. Big deal. It feels good and what’s wrong with feeling good. Besides, there is absolutely nothing to do in the hell cell. I’m stuck in this room all day. Ok, dear diary, let me give you the rundown of my day and what life has been like for me the past two years at this wonderful establishment. Every morning I get up usually around 8-8:30, depending on how long I was up the night before masturbating, but the docs want everyone on my floor up and ready by nine a.m. regardless. I’m one of the lucky ones who are allowed to have their own bathroom with a shower in their room. I’ll shower and get dressed and since they’ve picked out my wardrobe, I have no choice but to wear grey sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt every day. They are comfortable though. Then, I make my bed and tidy up which is required and then its roll call. We’re escorted down to the cafeteria for breakfast and we at least have to eat some toast even if we are not hungry. After breakfast, it’s back to the cell where I’ll just lay on my bed for two hours until 10 a.m. when Dr. Stone comes in for his rounds, which are on Mondays and Wednesdays, and they’re pretty short and sweet. I have a more in depth meeting with him on Thursdays. At 11 a.m. I help out in the laundry, folding and washing white bedsheets and I just love it. That’s me being sarcastic dear diary. At noon, I line up and go to lunch. We get an hour and then it’s back to the hotter than hell laundry where I work until three in the afternoon, unpaid of course……………………..sorry dear diary, I had another strange thought about something; some rock band I think………..anyway, I work with the lady that doesn’t speak in the therapy sessions, down in the laundry area. Her name is Margret. I don’t know why she doesn’t talk, but she seems so sweet. After work we have a recess for an hour where can go out into the ‘yard’ but it’s confined to a barbwire fence. After that I go back to my hell cell and I know it’s a regular small room, but I call it the hell cell because that’s what it is dear diary. I masturbate a few times and then at 5 it’s dinner. Usually at dinner time, I’ll sit with the patients that are on my floor. We’re considered level 1 patients; the non-violent crazies that are a little better off than most of the other crazies in here. The food here by the way is comparable to dog vomit. After dinner we have the choice to go back to our rooms or watch tv in the recreation area, which is a large waiting type room with a few couches and a television that has only two channels. Sometimes I’ll go down there but most of the time I’ll go back to my and just masturbate myself silly until it’s roll call and lights out at 9:30. This is my life dear diary. How did this happen? How did I end up here?

  March 26th 1976

  Hello, dear diary, it’s me Angel, girl perv extraordinaire. Let me ask you dear diary, do you really think it’s strange that I love the smell of pee so much? I mean like girl pee and my pee. Growing up, my best friend had her own bathroom in her room and I would watch her pee all the time. She would leave the door open while I was sitting on her bed, painting my nails and listening to music, mostly Led Zeppelin. It was just us girls so we didn’t think it was weird to pee in front of each other. When she was finished I would immediately go in there and just sit on the toilet, even if I didn’t have to go, I just wanted to smell her body and her scent. I miss her so much. I don’t know what happened to her.

  March 27th 1976

  I’ve been crying all morning. I don’t know why. I get moody sometimes from being in this place. I don’t think twenty two years was long enough to have a normal life. Gotta go, someone just knocked on the door.

  March 27th 1976

  It’s 10:30 about an hour after lights out. I had a visitor today. Someone I haven’t seen in a long time. I’ve known her since I was five years old dear diary. It was my best friend’s mother. Her name is…………names aren’t important anyway, only the memories are what matters, the good ones at least. She looked fine I guess, but that coat and sunglasses she was wearing did look kind of silly on her. She talked about everything that’s been happening outside of this place and how Amy has started sch…………………..

  June 6th 1976

  Hello, dear diary. Sorry, I know it’s been a few months since we last visited. I don’t know what happened with that last entry. It won’t happen again. No more names, ok. My best friend’s mom has been visiting more often lately. I love that she comes to see me. The little girl she talks about is growing up fast. She brought me a picture of her. She looks just like her mommy, who by the way in case you didn’t know dear diary, was also my best friend.

  June 18th 1976

  Anita told me that I didn’t say one word yesterday, which was the 17th. And that I was walking around like some zombie and had this terrified look on my face. I don’t remember doing any of this. These people around here are truly the crazy ones. Not me.

  June 23rd 1976

  Wooopeee! I got my own tv today! See what good behavior will get you dear diary. Now if I could only get a stereo now.

  July 29th 1976

  What the hell? A whole bunch of people died at this concert, right here in Indiana. It was on the news tonight as I was getting ready for lights out. They said people were going crazy, killing each other, biting people. Maybe it is safer being in here with all these crazies than on the outside. The concert was a band called Kiss. I never heard of them.

  August 11th 1976

  I’m lucky dear diary to be on the floor with the ‘not so bad crazies’. I hear there are rubber rooms and strait jacket rooms on the lower level. I don’t plan on seeing any of those.

  August 20th 1976

  I don’t know if it’s because it’s summer time and it is so goddam hot outside, but I’ve been ultra horny this week for some reason. All I think about all day long is getting back to my room so I can masturbate and get off.

  August 23rd 1976

  I’ve been thinking about my best friend a lot lately. I guess I just really miss the hell out of her. I love her, dear diary. Never, ever have I been into girls, but there was something, and I don’t know what it was, about my best friend that made me so attracted to her. We met when we were five, but it w
asn’t until I was thirteen when I knew that I was in love with her. I knew she was in love with me too. I was always at her house all the time, almost every day, and it was normal to just walk in, say hi to her mom and go run upstairs to her room. I did just that one day after school and as I opened her door, I…………..I really don’t know what made me think of this particular moment dear diary, maybe it’s all me touching myself so much lately. I’ve never told anyone this. You, dear sweet little diary are the first to hear or rather see these words. I can’t believe I’m even thinking about writing this down. I opened her door and I saw her masturbating. She was naked from the waist down and was straddled on top of her pillow. I gasped, almost losing my breath because I didn’t know what she was doing. She was bouncing up and down really fast on her pillow and when she saw me, she screamed and jumped off of it. I could feel the heat burning my cheeks and my face turning red. As weird as it all looked to me, I was a little excited by it. She quickly started putting her pants back on and then sat on the edge of the bed and started to cry. I went over to her and sat next to her, dear diary, because I didn’t like it when she cried. I put my arm around her and she laid her head onto my shoulder. I told her that whatever it was she was doing, and I had a pretty good idea now of what it was, that it was going to be ok and I wouldn’t say anything to anyone about it. We got up and went downstairs and acted like nothing ever happened. Two days later on a Friday afterschool, we were in her room, just being girls I guess, listening to the radio and brushing our hair and I asked her about what I saw the other day. She didn’t want to talk about it but then I told her that I’d like to try it too. Her eyes got really big, but finally she agreed to, just as long as we didn’t tell anyone. It was our secret. Well, I guess it’s not a secret anymore dear diary. Luckily her parents were gone, so we had some privacy to where could do it and have some fun and maybe learn about ourselves. I was scared as hell about us getting caught, so I suggested going into the bathroom to do it. Again, she agreed. We each brought in a pillow with us. We both couldn’t stop laughing at first because we were embarrassed but were excited at the same time. We dropped our pants and she got on top of hers first, then I did mine. She said just to pretend like you’re riding a horse and it will start to feel real good in about a minute or so. I did exactly as she did and sure enough I started feeling something that I’ve never felt before. Our smiling faces soon turned to focused, sweaty faces and pursed lips with a purpose. The fear of us getting caught combined with the feeling of doing something very bad was overwhelmingly exciting to me. My emotions blew up inside me dear diary. I was scared, nervous, excited, grossed out, embarrassed, humiliated, all at the same time. But most of all I was aroused. Heather was done but I kept going. She sat next to me and held my hand while I did it. She tucked her hair behind her ear and got really close to me and I could smell her sweat and her sex on her hand from her touching herself, and got really scared because it started to feel really, really good down below and I started to cry because I never felt anything so good ever in my life. She wiped the tears from my face and told me it was ok, all while I was still riding that pillow and my mouth opened up and I let out a little shriek and I could feel more tears falling from the sides of my eyes and I cried out dear diary not because I was scared anymore but because I had experienced my first orgasm. From that moment on, my life changed. I began masturbating every day and wanted to be in the bathroom after my mom was done going pee, because her scent turned me on, the same way my best friends scent turned me on when I smelled her sex on her hand. We told each other that we would never do anything like that again with one another.