I fall on my knees next to her body and lie over it, holding both her and my boy close. The agony is greater than any I’ve experienced. My chest burns like hot bleach boiling up my throat.
My foot brushes something sharp. I almost ignore it, but something compels me to look.
A bloody knife lies nearby on the floor. I pick it up, knowing it’s the same blade that killed my wife. And perhaps mutilated Johnny.
I can’t come back from this. Life holds nothing further for me. Everything I ever wanted is right here. And just maybe I found a way to be with them again. The only question is where to do it.
I turn the blood-blackened blade over in my hands. Then grab the hilt.
And plunge it into my upper chest, just to the left of my breastbone. It sticks on a rib. I adjust the angle and apply more pressure.
The pain is horrific but doesn’t compare to the wound of the loss of my family. My body is numb to anything else.
I expect to puncture my heart. Or a lung. Or anything else that will end me. Let it all be over. Darkness may come and take me now.
Except it doesn’t.
My chest burns with the puncture wound, but I don’t cease to exist. Or feel any weaker.
What cruel trick of fate is this?
A raucous cackling of many things sounds from a nearby room. No human could make such a noise. And who is in the shell of my childhood home with me? In the state it’s in?
Did the murderer remain behind to gloat?
Still clutching my child, I stagger to my feet and stumble across the room. My soles burn like I’m walking on coals. The wood beneath me glows and crackles like it’s on fire.
Good. Let it all burn down. And me with it.
The stench in the hallway reeks like some foul animals have been inhabiting the place. Perhaps they’ll rip my miserable self to shreds. Smell the blood and close in like sharks.
The burnt walls and smoldering floor and acrid vines continue out here. The plants sprawl across the walkway. I have no choice but to step on some to proceed. Their juices singe my feet. But the pain in my body doesn’t matter. My anguish inside is more real and intense.
The laughter fades to give way to gruff voices in conversation. From the sound of them, I think they’re in the study.
I stumble forward, not caring how many there are or what they do to me. Hopefully, they will help to end my misery. Slowly. I should suffer. Perhaps that will help me reach my family in the afterlife.
The scene inside the den tells me I’ve already gone insane.
I glance down at a pair of cloven hooves standing on this side of the couch. Above them are the hairy legs of a beast. At the waist though, the being transitions to a human form. Until you look at his head, where two sharp horns curve around his skull.
He turns and grins at me. A massive cock swings between his legs. “Well, look who decided to join us.”
The amused crowing ring out in a chorus.
Seven or eight more mixed creatures stand in a circle around something. I don’t know what name to give them. They all have cruel, red eyes and wicked growths of bone on their heads.
They part in the middle to reveal what they’re staring at.
A naked woman lounges on a chair. Well, she’s female. I can’t quite call her a human. Two tall, slender horns protrude straight up from her skull like some fiendish, perverted antelope.
Demons.
The word comes unprompted but feels too real for me to refute.
“There he is.” The female smiles at me. “My good little slave boy, John.”
“Mother?” I moan. This term of address seems fitting for her, like a memory from a past life.
She cackles. “Yes, I suppose. That is what you called me. Though my name is Lysande.”
I couldn’t care less what she calls herself. Or what she and the rest of them are doing here. I only desire one thing.
“Please.” I implore each face in turn. I’m not above begging while holding my dead baby in my arms. “Would someone please kill me?”
From their reaction, one would surmise I’d just said the funniest joke ever.
“You fool.” Lysande strokes her very pregnant belly like a prize. “You took orders from a demon like a desperate, stupid mutt. You slit your wife’s throat while you raped her. You gave me your baby boy’s heart to eat so that I might have a child. Look around you.”
She gestures to the room of acid vines and sin. “You are dead. This is hell.”
8
Thank You!!
Thank you so much for reading my twisted little story. It’s not over yet. The Obedience series continues with the second in the series: Yes, Father. Here’s a little teaser to get you interested:
* * *
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” My throat tightens with emotion as I say words I hadn’t uttered since the accident. “It has been-,” I need a moment to calculate and think. Was it the morning of the crash? Or the day before? Does it matter if I’m precise? I’m fairly certain I’m damned for hell already. “-two weeks since my last confession.”
The estimate should be close enough. Being more specific will only require me to relive more of the trauma.
I wasn’t there, but I still imagine the squealing of the tires. The way her heart must have stopped, frozen with the horror of seeing what’s going to happen right before it does. What final thoughts came to her mind?
“What do you wish to confess, my child?”
The soft voice of the priest brings me back from the scenes I can’t escape whether waking or sleeping.
“Impure thoughts.” I swallow hard. “About a man.”
Heat lights my cheeks on fire from the inside out. I wipe my sweaty palms on the knees of my jeans.
The enclosed space of the confessional feels smaller than ever before. What once was a vast place to play as a child constricts like a coffin now. I’ve aged more in the last two weeks than my entire nineteen years.
“Now that can’t be too terrible,” the priest replies in a soothing manner. “After all, attraction to the opposite sex is a gift from the Lord. Unless…” he clears his throat. “Is the man whose attention you long for married?”
Not anymore. As of two weeks ago, he’s a widower. The admitting brings tears to my eyes. Damnit. I’ve been crying so much these last fourteen days that the ache in my throat is constant.
