Born bad: stories by Andrew H. Vachss

By Andrew H. Vachss

From a author whose novels were acclaimed for his or her unflinching exploration of evil comes an excellent number of brief stories—some by no means ahead of published—that distill dread back off to its essence—and inject it immediately into the reader's again mind. Andrew Vachss may have scissored his characters from trendy headlines: a stalker prowling round an nameless high-rise; a serial killer whose transgressions mirror a adolescence of hideous abuse; an inner-city gunman who's keen to take out a blockful of sufferers to be able to win a second of acceptance.Tautly written and endowed with murderous ironic spin, Born undesirable plunges us into the hell that lies simply outdoor our bed room home windows.

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You got my name from somewhere. " The old man got up, knelt next to his dog. Put his hand gently on the dog's head. "Buster used to be the toughest dog in the world–wasn't afraid of nothing. I had him ever since he was a pup. " I asked him again. They both looked at me. "You know," the old man said. 2 A freestanding brick building in Red Hook, not far from the waterfront, surrounded by a chain-link fence topped with razor wire. I rang the bell. A dog snarled a warning. I looked into the mirrored glass, knowing they could see me.

Not to stop me, like he was sad or something. The judge sentenced me to this place. For treatment, he said. I didn't know what it was going to be like. But I bet the bitch knew. I had to talk. All the time. Every day. Talk about what was inside my head, what I was feeling. They showed me pictures. Lots of pictures. Different kinds. Movies too. Videotapes. They would ask me, does this make me excited' Was I aroused? After a few months, they put this cuff on me. Right around my…thing. They could tell when I got aroused.

He spread my chips around on the green felt. "You got sixty-one hundred dollars here," he said. " I guess the redhead was JoJo because she came over with the velvet-lined box. She put my chips inside, then she counted out the money for me—sixty-one hundred dollar bills. "Here's the setup," the husky man said to me. "The house cuts every pot five percent. That's all you pay, ever. Anything you want to eat, anything you want to drink, it's on the house. Got rooms upstairs where you can take a nap, take a shower, take one of the girls if she's willing, okay'' "Okay," I said.

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