They looked at me in disgust. Why didn’t I join them, They had asked. But
it was all fake. They knew as well as I did that They did not want me there.
So I left. Once I was swallowed by the darkness, out of sight, but still
capable of eavesdropping on Them, I stopped. Turned back, hid within the
night. He’s such an idiot, They said. If only They knew. They turned around;
their backs were facing me. The perfect time to strike. I reached into my
jacket pocket and extracted my dart gun. It made three hisses as I pulled
the trigger three times. All three of Them fell down. I woke up the girl
first. She thought I was there saving her, and a combined look of happiness
and disgust crossed her face. She looked at her companions, and saw them
lying there, unconscious. Once she saw the knife in my hand, a look of
horror came on her face. She stumbled up, but it was too late. Her first
step put her right foot on the blade of my knife. She gave a shrill scream.
An animal, I thought. That’s what it sounded like. Violently, I yanked my
knife out of her foot, and brought it down upon her face, taunting her,
making her cringe in fear. Once she realized who I really was, and what had
just happened, she stayed motionless, too scared to put up a fight. So I
gouged her left eye out. She screamed, to no avail, and then I dug my knife
into the juicy flesh of her neck. A pool of blood enshrouded her while she
took her last breaths. The boy came second. Merely a toddler, he was. Ten?
Eleven? Doesn’t matter now. I hid my knife, and punched him in the face. He
woke up sweating, like he had a bad dream. I, of course, played along. It’s
only a dream, I said. He seemed terrified, but in his eyes there was the
everlasting glint of superiority. I can control the dream, he said. I
punched him in the nose, breaking it, covering it in the girl’s blood. Then
he saw her, and screamed. It was time. I uncovered the knife and removed his
tongue. Tears were streaming down his face. So was blood. I scarred his
cheeks lightly, then slit his !
The boy trembled. It reminded me of a fish, dying without water. Then he
fell limp. I looked over at the other boy, about 14 years old. The light in
his pocket gave it away. He was conscious, and using his phone. He turned
into a statue once he saw my cold glance, trying to hide it. It was futile.
I chopped his head off in one fell swoop, taking no pleasure, then took his
phone and saw what he was doing, even though I already knew. Sirens were
wailing in the distance, approaching rapidly. There was nothing left to do,
but to give in.
Alle Rechte an diesem Beitrag liegen beim Autoren. Der Beitrag wurde auf e-Stories.org vom Autor eingeschickt Peter Barker.
Veröffentlicht auf e-Stories.org am 28.01.2011.