The Truth by Desire Scheepers (the best books of all time .TXT) 📖

practical things more so I don’t worry so much about the pall that a death might leave on a place.”

Perplexed, Chris left the restaurant and headed to his car. Before last night that last statement that he had made to James would have been true, but now things were changing a little. He was no longer so sure that being practical could keep you from feeling like you had no control over your emotions. Especially your fear. He wouldn’t have said that he had a scared bone in his body, but that was true with physical things. He could stand his man against anyone trying to fight with him and he could carry and push and shove like the next man, but how do you approach something that you can’t see?
Climbing into his car, he decided that he would start with the one thing that he knew he could do something about. Heading towards his workshop, he made a mental list of all the things that he would need to fix the floor.
Working with wood always had a way of making him feel part of something bigger. Like he was helping to make the world better by making beautiful things from a natural material. Although this time he would not be making anything but fixing something.
By the time Chris reached the house, it was already late into the afternoon. It took him two trips to get all the gear from the car and upstairs into the living room. With a cautious look around to see if he could spot the shoes or if any mist was creeping around, he switched on the light and started the preparations to take out the floor planks and replace them evenly.


Twilight was fast approaching. Sam could see the darkness touching the horizon. Wanting to appreciate the sunset, she decided to go upstairs to watch it. There was a better view from the living room. Climbing the stairs, she found her two daughters, Sarah and Jane sitting on the steps, each with a doll, playing quietly. They were dressed in their pyjamas already. She touched them each lightly on the head as she passed them, filled with love for their little angel faces.
She flipped the switch for the passage light, but it would not come on. It was probably a blown bulb. Not too worried and eager to see the sunset, she decided to change it later. Seeing that the living room door was closed, she thought that she might have left a window open which caused the door to close, because she could not remember having come up here today and closing the door.
As her hand touched the door handle to open the door, a slight shock passed through her, making her let go for an instant. Surprised that she had generated electricity with her slippers, she took hold of the handle again and opened the door.
The sight that met her eyes made her stop dead in her tracks.
Right there in her living room was a strange man with some kind of tool in his hand and he was on his way to attack the wooden floor. As she opened her mouth to stop him from damaging the floor and demand to know what he was doing in her house, he started to put the flat crowbar- like tool in-between two of the floorboards. From where she was standing in the doorway, she could see that the floor was quite uneven where he was standing on his knees, working the tool between the planks.
With a slight creak, the first board gave up its place in the floor.
Without even noticing what she was doing she had made her way over to him to see what he was uncovering.
Two things hit her as soon as she saw what lay beneath the floor boards. The first was that the floor underneath the boards was really dirty and the second was that there was something there that looked all too much like bones. Seeing the bones was like a floodgate opening. A floodgate releasing memories. Her whole body had turned into ice, with drops of sweat rolling down her back. She knew now that she was looking at herself. Those were her bones that were lying underneath the floorboards. She remembered running away, running from Steven. He was chasing her downstairs. Her breath coming in gasps. She had to get away. She had to get help for her daughters. She had taken her daughters for an ice cream earlier and when they had returned, Steven had told her that he wanted to talk to her alone. Settling the girls in their room to play, she went downstairs to start cooking dinner while they had their talk. Except the talk had quickly turned into an argument. That was what was happening all the time recently. Steven was convinced that she was having an affair. He had told her so. Whenever she went out she would have to explain time and again why she had gone and who she had met. It was like he was paranoid. He wouldn’t believe her no matter what she said.
Standing with her back to him, busy cutting the vegetables at the sink, she was once again trying to convince him that she had taken the girls for an ice cream and that she had not met anyone. With a surprised gasp, she felt him place his hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t you want me to touch you? I guess I’m not good enough to touch you anymore? Do you like it when he touches you?” the questions were asked in a low menacing tone.
“Of course you can touch me. You are my husband. No one else touches me except you.” She answered for the umpteenth time, her heart rate increasing. He hadn’t touched her before when he had accused her of having an affair. This was new.
Slowly stroking her neck, he leaned in closer and very softly whispered in her ear.
“That’s right. I’m your husband. Don’t ever forget that. In fact, let me help you to keep on remembering that fact. I will never let anyone else have you. You are mine.”
By this time, Sam had stopped cutting vegetables, her hands shaking too much. When he had finished the last sentence she could suddenly feel the pressure on her neck increasing. Trying to push back with her head to get away from him, he gave her head an enormous shove and her head hit the edge of the sink with a massive thunk.
Dizzy from the hit and trying to find her bearings, she felt her arm grabbed and twisted up behind her back. The nerves in her shoulder screaming for release, she realized that she was still holding on to the knife with her other hand. With huge effort and scraping together her courage, she reached behind and stabbed him in the leg. He let her go from the shock, but almost immediately reached for her again, screaming with pain and rage.
She only needed that single moment in order for her to escape his reach and start running. She at first only wanted to get away but then realized that the girls were still in their room, probably scared from the noise that was coming from downstairs. What could she do? Her husband was trying to hurt her and might also hurt the girls. There was definitely something going on with him. She would have to come up with a plan very quickly if she wanted to get herself and the away from him.
Heading for the stairs she realized with a sinking feeling that she had let go of the knife when she had stabbed him, leaving her without a weapon. Trying to think what else she could use to protect them, she managed to reach the bottom of the stairs before he caught up with her. The adrenaline pumping through her was giving her surprising strength and speed, but it was as if Steven was possessed. With a huge jump, he managed to get hold of her hair before she had managed more than one step up the stairs. Yanking hard, he pulled her back and shook her head like a doll’s.
“I told you that you are mine! No one will ever have you! You want to run upstairs? Fine, we’ll go upstairs!” Not caring that she was losing her footing and tripping on the stairs, he dragged her fighting body behind him.
She was now working on automatic, trying to fight back, not caring anymore that he was her husband, only to get away from him as soon as possible. Her hair was being pulled up from the roots, but she couldn’t feel the pain. Dragging air into her lungs was like razors going down her throat, but that was another feeling she was oblivious to.
“No, Steven, please stop it! What are you doing? Why are you doing this?” she pleaded, hoping that he might stop, but knowing that he was too far gone in his rage to even hear her voice.
They finally entered the living room where he threw her down on the floor, causing her to slide across the highly polished wooden floor. Before she could get up, her hip paining where it had encountered the floor, her breath left her body in a huge whoosh as his foot connected with her midsection.
When he had finally finished with her, there was no more life left in her battered and bruised body.
She can remember standing and looking at him as his raged calmed into something more ominous, but she was no longer able to do something. Her body was dead but she was still there seeing him wipe off her blood from his fists and shoes before slowly turning away heading for the door.
With a feeling of dread she followed him to her daughters’ room, somehow knowing what was coming, but not wanting to believe it. She saw him sitting on the edge of Sarah’s bed and stroking her hair, before slowly easing the pillow from behind her head. Not wanting to see anymore, she closed her eyes and turned away, knowing that she could do nothing about what was happening in the room. Sobbing and shaking her head, she suddenly couldn’t take it anymore and screamed as loud as she could, hoping that somehow he would hear and stop what he was doing.
“What’s Daddy doing Mommy?” a small voice asked beside her, the arm having snaked around her legs.
“Sarah? Sarah honey? Are you okay?” she asked not believing that she was looking at her eldest daughter.
“Sure I am, but why is Daddy holding the pillow over Jane like that?”
“Sarah, look at Mommy. Don’t look at Daddy. Jane will be joining us and then we will go and have some cookies in the kitchen, okay?”
Still not believing what was happening, Sam picked up Sarah to stop her from seeing what was going on. She felt herself dying all over again. Slowly walking out of the room, she soon felt a small little hand sliding softly into hers.


Steven had placed her body under the floorboards where he had taken the last of her life and he had placed their daughters under the floorboards at the top of the landing.
As time went by, she saw how he deteriorated and stopped caring for anything. The day he had killed them and put away their bodies was the day his life ended, his body going on but his mind dying.
She soon learned that although she no longer had a body she could still move things. It was as if her mind was now her body, not able to move big things but still able to do small things. She set about doing