Mordechai Stone

Contempt never breeds with familiarity

The Box, Part 8

“You still want to know what’s in the box?” Fuck Me Eddy taunted me as we walked through the field.

“No,” I croaked.

“You sure do ask a lot of questions about shit that’s none of your damn business. What makes you so curious?”

There was no way in hell I was going to answer that question.

“Stop here.”

I did. In the distance I could make out another fence and what might be a dirt road on the other side.

“Last chance to ask about what’s in the box.”

I couldn’t speak. I frantically searched the ground with twitchy eyes looking for a mound of earth and a shallow grave.

“Too bad.”

I heard the click of Eddy pulling back the hammer on his pistol, felt the vibration in my brain.

“You ask too many fucking questions.”

I felt the barrel placed against the back of my skull.

“Never ask what’s in the box unless you really want to know. Now I’m going to ask you one more time. You need to make a forever decision. Understand?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Last time, fucknuts. Do you want to know what’s in the box?”

Forever decision. Sounded like a life or death question to me. If I answered wrong there would never be a next thing on this planet for me. No next day. No next moment. No next breath.

Or Eddy could just be fucking with me and intended to shoot me no matter how I answered.

Then again if I had never opened my mouth in the car would we even be having this conversation? Or would Fuck Me Eddy have found another way to torment me before he put me down?

I tired of the “what ifs” quickly and decided to take what was behind door number one.

“I don’t want to know what’s in the box, Eddy.”