May Sickness: 6

Chapter 6

In the darkness of night, screams echoed, cries of anguish, cries of pain, heart wrenching cries, cries of such a hurting soul that the heavens, themselves, cry in pity.

In a small suburb, in a small town, horrors of unspeakable nature took place. A family forever gone, never to return. A disturbed soul, a libertine, wreaked his revenge on the world, directly on the bodies of the innocent.

Samantha had arrived to late, but just in time to see the world for what it was. What she saw were bodies, corpses, cut into pieces, laid out on the floor like a salacious display of children’s building blocks. What she saw was a man, drenched in blood, leaning over an infant, knife in hand.

“Stop!” Her scream startled him, the knife slipped, cutting across the infant’s eyes.

“Damn it!” The knife came crashing toward the child’s head...

The blade shattered, the shards falling to the floor, around the child. The man made a grab towards the baby, his hands exploded.

“You dare touch a child! You will suffer more than the parents of that child did!” Samantha placed her hand on his head.

“What are you do...” He could not continue, his tongue ripped and pulled from his mouth. His muscles started to ached. They were pulled by an invisible force from his body, tearing apart his skin and crushing his bones. He fell to the floor, limbless.

“You take out your frustration of the world on the innocent! You attempt to kill an infant! The pain that you feel now is only a fraction of what you will feel in Hell!”

The man's ribs tore through his flesh, his intestines were pulled through his navel, and finally his heart was torn from his chest. Samantha reached down and held the baby. She place her hands on her, the child's, bleeding face, it stopped bleeding. “I’m so sorry but this is all I can do, I’m sorry that the last thing you saw was…” She sat, her long plated dress resting on the surface of a puddle of blood, her lace blouse covered in blood, stained red.

A man came through a wall.

“Samantha!” He screamed at her.

“I had too! She’s just a baby!”

“This had nothing to do with us. He was just a simple murderer.” He looked down at the body

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t let it happen.”

“Well, what will you do with the child?”

“I’ll take care of her, she’ll never have to know.”

The man walked across the room and to the front of a closet. “The Compassionate, your title suits you well. However, I was not talking about the infant in your arms.” He placed his hand on the door knob. “You do not feel him?”

She did not look her associate in the eyes, “He’s just a boy, he might not remember.” She spoke in almost a whisper.

The man opened the door, inside a young boy.

The boy was in the fetal position, crying. The man’s eyes met the boy’s.

A heaviness befell the boy, like a weight on his shoulders. A fiery pain shot down his arms, legs and spine, his fingers started to tingle.

Down the length of his arms, around his neck and down his back lines appeared. His skin opened, as if a scalpel was running along his skin. Blood ran down his arms, his back. Blood sprayed from his neck, coating the walls of the closet.

Samantha fell to her knees, she embraced the infant and cried.

“I’ll be leaving now. I suggest you do the same, the police will be here soon.” He faded into the shadows. That boy is dead because of me, even though I saved her, I just can’t...