Audiobook - Suspense/Horror
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM) North American (US Mid-Atlantic)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Willie awoke Did he hear screaming his mother wearing his blue Superman pajamas with a big red s on the front. He jumped out of bed. His bare feet slapped the wooden floor hallway as he ran straight to his parents bedroom. He opened the door. There he saw his mother's naked wet body fresh out from a bath. Her hair hung limpid, blood pimpled her lips, her eyes stared scared and wild. And then he saw his father. He was dressed, feet shoulder, width apart, his hand formed into a heart and fist raised to striker again without thinking instinctively, Willie ran into the bedroom and jumped on his father's back. Don't you hurt her! Don't you hurt my mommy! His father tossed Willy off like a raging bull. Bucks. Often inexperienced rider. Well, he landed on the floor, hitting his head. Pain washed over him. He twisted and frantically looked for his mother. Protecting her had vanished from his thoughts, and instead he wanted to scooch over into her protective arms. Mommy, he understood then that he alone had to face the raging bull. Don't you hurt her will, he shouted, but his words slurred together, sounding like a wine. Don't hurt her, please. His father grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the room and back down the hallway. Willie's Superman PJ slips down past his knees on the journey. The elastic in the waistband was weak. The pajamas a size too big. Willie had begged for them. He'd said he didn't care if they didn't fit. He felt brave in his Superman PJs. He wanted to grow up to be a man of steel. Take those pajamas off, his father demanded his father's expression. Dared for Willie to refuse. Willie tugged off his pajama bottoms while his father pulled and slipped his belt from his pants. It was a big black belt with a large, shiny gold buckle. Please, no, Willie pleaded. Whack the buckle bit into his thin legs and buttocks. Mama, he screamed. He reached back, trying to grab the belt, but he couldn't. The snap of the belt came too quickly. His hands groped helplessly. He wasn't quick enough. Strong enough, Quack, This is all your fault. His father roared, has really felt the cut of the buckle over and over again. Quack, quack, quack! When his father left the room, Willie lay unmoving on the cold floor, his breathing faint. He stayed there like that until he heard the slam of his parent's bedroom door. He heard his mother's screams once again. His mind split in two with his misery. One part whimpered, praying God would help him stop what was happening. He didn't so much care how God decided to make it stop just that it would stop now. Another part of his mind growled menaces of hate promises of what he would do to his father once he grew up. Once he became a man of steel, this bigger, menacing voice growled. Gonna cue up, old man? Whose voice was it? Gods or God help him? The Devils. It gulped down the growling voice like he swallowed bad tasting medicine only tonight, hearing the voices Crystal clears if someone lay beside him, soothing his wounds, whispering promises of retribution. He knew it wasn't exactly like taking the cod liver oil his mother gave him when he was ill. No, this was 1000 times worse