5 Huge Belly (2/2)

The man started to whimper. ”You're welcome.”. Again and again, these five letters came over his lips.

Sam put the hedge trimmer aside and picked up the baseball bat. With moderate momentum, she let him crash his right shin. The man howled and threw his torso from left to right. When Sam was concerned that he might tip over with the chair, she stabilized it by placing one foot on the seat between his legs. She leaned forward and brought her face just inches from his.

”How many fingers?!” she shouted at him, so that her hot saliva flew into his face.

”With all, with all?” he whimpered.

”Good boy” she patted his head. ”So all of you?”

Sam was about to reach for the hedge trimmer.

The eyes in his grimacing face widened so much that she feared they might dangle on his fat cheeks at the optic nerves at any moment.

”I'm sick, I can not help it, I even outrun my brother's children. On my own flesh and blood. I am ill, can not help it. I need help, I ...”

Sam cut him off with a quick wave of his hand.

”What did you do to the children? Tell me, otherwise I'll smash your right kneecap.”

How motivating personal pain was with this scum. It just gushed out of the fat jellyfish. How he had groped his niece in her room, in her own bed, under the covers. How he had to stroke his fingers over the gaps between her legs again and again, how the skin was so tender and hairless there. How sweet his nephew had smelt and tasted.

As he continued to describe more details of his perverse offenses against the children, Sam felt herself seized with a wave of disgust. She literally saw the frightened and disturbed faces of the children. Feeling her despair and helplessness.

She looked at him with raised eyebrows. ”Again your bad fingers?” she whispered softly. ”You really need help.?”

The man nodded as eagerly as a first grader in explaining the small 1 x 1.

Sam threw away the baseball bat, looked him straight in the eye, and spoke in a soft voice that must have done his duty.