Good Friends, Good Food.

Disclaimer: This story is mine and no money was made from it's writing. These people exist only in my twisted mind any resemblance to anyone living dead(yadda, yadda) is unintentional and totally my bad.

Extra Disclaimer: Murder, rape, torture, etc, NOT okay. This story is fiction which means NOT REAL. Nobody deserves what happens to the Sinclairs, a fictional family, to happen to them…EVER!

A/N: Again, thanks to all who have reveiwed, I enjoy readin’ them. Even if you hate it and want Curtis to rot in hell let me know. Just to know it was read.

I made my way to the Sinclair’s house, fed the dog, walked the dog and made dinner from their fridge. As I was sitting in front of the TV with my dinner plate, I heard a knock on the door. I made my way up and peeked out the window. A young well-dressed couple. I cracked it open.
“Yes?” I said with a smile. I’ll admit I’m not winning any beauty contests anytime soon, but my natuaral charisma and charming character can win friends easily, nonetheless. It was then that I realized, they had the Sinclair children with them.
I thought. “Hey kids, “ I said, a litle embarassed.
“Hi Curtis,” Joshua said. The youngest one was crying.
“Whe’e’s mommy?”
“I dunno kiddo,” I said. I just lied to a two-year-old. Sighing I opened the door to allow the Sinclair children into their own house. The rest of the afternoon wore on in boredom – for me. How I wished I could be torturing Melody right now instead of watching her kids. Finally at 7:30, I put the girls to bed. I read them a bedtime story, and tucked them in. At 8:30, Joshua was sent to bed. He needed no bedtime story. I sat down and began to watch TV. It was mostly background noise. I began to wonder if I should bring Mrs. Sinclair to her own house to die. I decided against it. All I needed was her kids to find their lovely mother being raped, tortured, humiliated, and murdered.

The next morning, I awoke to discover it had snowed overnight. I scraped the ice off the windows, before dropping the kids off at their grandfather’s, and going to work. As I worked, I thought about Melody. I became frustrated that I couldn’t touch her, feel her soft skin and lithe body give in to my torture. When I left, I had worked out a plan of humiliation and torment for my beautiful captive. I went back to the Sinclair’s house, took the dog for a walk, refilled her water bowl and food bowl, and checked the machine. There were three messages, all from Mark desperate, that he couldn’t reach Melody. Smiling, I made my way home. There was a message from Mark, who was nearly in hysterics because he couldn’t reach his wife.
“Oh god Curtis, I can’t reach Melody, I’ve called the house, I’ve called her parents, my parents. Did she make it home after dropping me at the airport? I don’t want to think what’s happening to her...” It ended abruptly. I suspected the machine cut him off. I spent the next several minutes collecting what I needed for the evening. Going into my cluttered garage, after a brief hunt, I located my fishing stuff. The tacklebox had a few things I needed. Grabbing my bolt cutters, I shoved them into my pocket. I stopped in at the powder room and grabbed my electric shaver and scissors. I decided to grab a bite to eat and let the anticipation gnaw at her. After I fed my cat, I toasted some frozen waffles and ate them slowly, mulling over the plan for her humiliation and torment. After I was done, I washed my dishes, and cleaned up the kitchen. I took a moment to get my breathing under control, then went downstairs to see Mrs. Melody Sinclair. This was gonna’ be so much fun.
“Honey, I’m home.” It was play time!