Women…oh how he hated them…that little tramp he had carved up along with her boyfriend had scratched him…

And the cops had evidently gotten hold of some of his DNA from old medical records back after they had found that damn engraved watch his dad had given him.

Marston hated all women on principal…

Especially that bitch who had brought him into this miserable cess pit of a world.

But he had returned that little favor by taking her out of it on his eighteenth birthday after she had snuck into his bedroom, drunk off of her ass, and tried to seduce him.

Not that he would have ever touched the fat, child beating whore even if she had been sober, he had too much class for that.

Marston had been his mother’s punching bag more than once in the past…and she had not had to be drunk, either, to find cause to beat him…

Taking her rage at his father running off with his secretary about four months after Marston’s fifteenth birthday out on him.

Truth be told, that secretary had been a total knockout, so Marston couldn’t really blame his old man for his actions…

No, Marston couldn’t blame his father for leaving…but there was one thing he DID hold a grudge against his father for…

He just wished the selfish bastard could have taken him with him, and not left him with that fat, sloshed sow who had given him birth.

And that was the night he learned that he could gain strength from fear and terror.

The feeling that he had gotten that night while he was beating his mother to death with his football trophy kept him going, not even requiring eating or sleep, for two days before it wore off.

The downside was that he had slept for nearly twelve hours straight, almost like a corpse, not even moving from the position he passed out in. And he had eaten like a horse for about a two days afterwords.

But he had liked that feeling of power…oh, he had liked it very much!

He had drug his mother’s body out to his pickup…ironically a seventeenth birthday gift from the old bat…an attempted sop to her conscious for the crappy way she treated him, he had guessed. After tossing her body callously in the back he drove out to the rock quarry at the edge of town.

He had driven far back into the quarry, then had dug a hole and dumped his mother’s body into it.

Appropriating one of the front end earth scooping machines, he had loaded about four or five scoops of gravel on top of the grave…it would be a while before anyone found her, he had thought with vindictive glee.

After making sure there was nothing around to link to him, he had left the quarry and headed home, where he started packing and gathering the things he would be taking with him when he left that miserable little hole in the road.

A day or two after he had returned from the quarry, he had gone through all of her papers and computer files till he found a copy of her signature and her bank account number.

Then he had sent the bank an email notifying them that “she” was going to be going on a road trip, and was taking him with her, and that there would be funds drawn on various ATM machines out of state.

He told the bank that “she” did not have a defined date of return, and that “she” would contact them when they got back.

Then he had withdrawn two thousand dollars.

He had gone to the bank with a withdrawal strip on which he had forged her signature, telling them that she had asked him to pick up the money while she finished packing and getting ready, since he was going to be in town anyway.

The bank saw nothing suspicious in this, for his mother had signed papers allowing him to perform transactions in her name and he had been doing it ever since getting his license when he was seventeen.

He had avoided going into town any more than necessary in order to avoid the possibility of anyone asking why his mother wasn’t seen around for the next two or three weeks as he had tried to think of all of the things he might need to take care of before he left.

But he had one more thing to take care of before shaking the dust of that town from his feet…he had a little “date” with Natasha Pensworth and that geeky science nerd, Merrick Nash, she had dumped him for.

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About MARANTHA DREAMWEAVER JENELLE

WRITER'S USE WORDS TO PAINT PICTURES ON THE CANVASES OF THEIR READER'S MINDS. marantha d. jenelle/aka 'maradjen'

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