The Devil’s Confession
The Lawson Chronicles Book 2
By Simon King
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 1
1.
Before you get all teary-eyed, thinking I wrote this as a keepsake, a memento to break out on rainy days and reminisce over with the family, I didn’t. The pages I write here are for the eyes of only one man. You see, I think we all have our very own archenemy in this world, someone that makes you see instant red at the mere mention of their name. For me, that person is Jim Lawson, the man they say captured the Daylesford Devil. More on that subject a little later, but for now, I’d like to say hello to the man of the moment. James, thanks for reading. I truly hope you get a little kick out of this little memoir I put together for you.
I also believe that everyone deserves to know a little bit about their number one adversary and so, I have thrown together a few notes that will hopefully give you an inside view of just what happened to us, and why we are who we are.
2.
A loving man is not something I have ever really been called. But my brother Eddie? Now he’s more of the Casanova kind. Me? Never. But then, love isn’t something that has been in my life with much abundance now, has it? The anger, though? The hatred and the rage? Now there is a subject we could talk about. My brother Loui is someone that could chew your ear off about the crap that’s surrounded us since childhood. And he would enjoy chewing your ear off. You see, Loui likes using his teeth. He uses them in a very satisfying way, he does. One that will definitely let you know that you are in the presence of someone…hmmm, how can I put it? Not, quite right? Yeah, not quite right, that’s Loui.
The three of us have been close ever since we were kids. Very close, you could say. We share everything together. But when Loui gets angry, he kind of takes over. Tells us not to interfere so he can, well, do his thing. I try not to watch when Loui does his thing and I know Eddie closes his eyes tight so he can’t see. We learnt a long time ago that when Loui is angry, it’s best for us to just stay out of his way.
But I should start at the beginning. Tell you where it all began so you know why he’s so angry; why he’s the one of us you have to watch.
3.
What’s your earliest memory from childhood? I bet you’ve got a nice one. Maybe it’s one of your Mum taking you out for ice cream, spending the day at the beach with you or her reading you a bedtime story. Or maybe it’s one of your good old Daddyo taking you to work with him, or sitting on his knee as he listens to a football match on the radio or some other damn memory. Not for me.
The earliest memory I have, is of my father raping my mother across the kitchen table on my third or fourth birthday. I can’t remember which and I doubt it matters much, but I remember it just the same. I can still hear her screams, her arms flailing about as she tried to break free. My birthday cake had been sitting on that table, a chocolate one with a nice candle on it, only the candle had been sent flying into the corner by her waving arms, the cake squashed flat beneath her bust as he forced her down.
The bastard had given me a backhander first though, sending me sprawling onto the floor, then left me where I sat, wide-eyed, as he fucked her bloody. I still remember the blood, too. It may shock you to hear that but it’s the way I remember it. My father had what you’d call a mean streak, one that became monstrous after he’d indulged in the drink. And he did a lot of drinking; almost on a daily basis, ‘specially if work was slow.
I never had any brothers or sisters when I was little, but I do remember my Mum telling me that I would have a brother or sister to play with soon. I remember her showing me her belly, letting me feel it, as something moved around in there. But then, I found my Mum out behind the shed one day, lying on the ground and blood covering her dress. Her face was bruised and her mouth all bloody.
I cried when I saw her but she hugged me and told me not to be scared, not to cry too loud as Daddy would be back soon. He had a special errand to run, she said, out back in the woods. It wouldn’t surprise me if that bastard hadn’t ripped her baby from the womb and buried it somewhere in those woods. Yup, he had a mean streak.
I don’t know why my Mum stayed. Why she didn’t just pack her things and run, taking me with her. Maybe she wasn’t strong enough. Maybe she was just too darn scared of my father. Whatever the reason she had for staying, it betrayed her on my 6th birthday, when two substantial things happened. That’s the day my father killed my mother, and I gained a brother.
4.
It’s funny how you can remember some things but not others. For instance, I can still remember the look on my mother’s face as she fell down the flight of stairs in our home, but not the final words she spoke to me.
My father had come home early that morning, after an all-night binge. He had come home and went to the bedroom. From all the screaming that I heard, I’m sure he had his way with her again.
When he had finished his thing, he yelled at her to fix him breakfast. They had
