The mist droplets of the dense night were still beading on his clammy white face. Sneaking down the hall where he had once freely walked in his childhood. He knew every squeak in the floor and stepped on the edge of the red and black carpet runner. His mouth was full of spit as the saliva oozed from the corners of his lips.

His mothers old bedroom door was shut, yet he could see the small bit of light ray coming from the keyhole. He went to his knees and eased up to the door. He clutched the door jams like a ghost preparing to leap through. The light slithered across his wet face to join his evil eye.

There she sat, reading a book, her face glowing in the dim lamp light. "God, she is so beautiful" he whispered to himself. Childhood memories came flash flooding into his mind. He had watched his mother through the same keyhole. He had watched mommy undress...he had watched her with his stepfather and twice with a woman.

Remembering night he was caught made him tremble with horror. A woman his mother was being sexual with had snuck around to the door, whipped it open and drug him in. She muffled his screaming with his mother's panties. They tied him down to the brass bars at the end of the the bed as his mother told him that he had to watch.. His drunken mother shouted at him "My little curious bastard, peeping again, you thought mommy didn't know....well....now you don't have to peep!"

The two women returned to their sex. He tried closing his eyes they would nudge him constantly with their feet. He could see it all in his mind again as he knelt at the door. He cupped his hand over his mouth to muffle a scream from his soul. He was breathing hard through his nose as he peeked through the keyhole again.

She was staring at the door. She had laid the book down. He could see a numbing fear on her face. She was frozen in her golden satin dress. He didn't flinch, he watched her even more intensely. She was like a sparrow in a glass box to him....she was his!

She whimpered "Is somebody there, who's there?" He whispered "I am here mother, I am there mother." He could hear her long dress rustle and see her slowly approach the door. She hesitated just before grabbing the door knob and nervously said "Who's there, please...if someone is there....is that you Cris?" Cris was the groundskeeper but he bunked in the guest house. He never ever came in the mansion at night.

She gently grabbed the door knob, clutched the skeleton key that was hung from a chain on her neck....inserted it ...turned it and locked the door.

His eye didn't move away at all. He watched the key come in and go out. It was sexual to him. He wanted to be her key...he wanted to unlock her fear with violent rape. He watched her return to her blue velvet Victorian foot stool. She sat and stared at the door. The more he watched her, the more she looked like his mother.

He whispered through the drool seeping from his cold lips "Mommy....I'm a good boy....mommy I'm a good boy." He began to focus on the skeleton key that was hanging and resting on her left knee. He wanted to see the flesh under the dress and the key....he wanted to see all of her flesh. It had to be milky white like his mother....it had to be soft....it had to be his.

Tears began to form in his eyes as he looked at her face and bare shoulders. He wanted to bite her skin....bite it a thousand times....smell her fear and taste her blood! She sat silently, just staring at the crystal glass door knob. She was frozen like a doll on a shelf, staring into nothing.

He grabbed the knob softly with his left hand, turned it slowly back and forth. She screamed so loud that he jumped back against the hall railing. She screamed louder and louder. He heard someone at the door downstairs. He rushed to his old room as a boy...dashed in the closet...lifted the panel on the floor and crawled to the ladder of a secret shaft to the basement.

Cris busted in the house and ran upstairs to her room...he shouted "Miss Beth...are you OK...Miss Beth...it's me Cris...are you OK?" She unlocked the door and fell in his arms crying. She told Cris what happened and he searched the entire house. A 37 room mansion was more than difficult to search but he covered every nook and cranny. He had gotten half soaked from walking the perimeter outside in the drizzling rain.

Cris found nothing out of place and decided to sleep on the downstairs couch for the night. Beth tried to sleep in her room but later went down and went to sleep in the arms of Cris. It was the only place she felt safe. She had left the door open and the light on in her bedroom.

Outside in the cold, wet drizzle of the night, he stared at her bedroom window. He snorted with anger and bit hard down into his wrist. The blood seeped slowly from the bite wound as he wrapped it with a pair of his mother's white lace panties he had hidden with other undergarments behind a stone in the basement wall years before.

In evil anger, he said to himself "This is my home you bitch...I will make you my mommy...I will make you my flesh...I will return and you will love me...you will love me...you will...I promise!" His mother and stepfather had been dead for 12 years....killed in an auto accident. The mansion wasn't left to him...he hated them for it....he hated everything about them!

He walked through a small woods and out on to the highway. A few yards down, his white Mercedes waited. He got in....picked up his cell phone and dialed a number. A sleepy male voice answered "Hello...hello...who is this ...hello." He replied "Hey Cris...it's just me....I'm back in town....know it's been years but....hey......what are you doing in the house at 2:00 in the morning....where is my little step sister...is Beth OK?"