This will be deleted soon - The Wrong Hope *Complete and Free*

28. Murderer

Sally-Anne

“Come along my sweet girl,” Mother soothed “come inside, you can tell me what happened and we’ll get you cleaned up and back to bed. You look exhausted my love.”

Between the heat rolling off her body as she held her arm around my back guiding me into the house and the rapid hum of her heart it was quickly becoming impossible to concentrate.

“John! John! Come quickly, there is something wrong with our Sally!” Mother yelled into the house while leading me towards a seat at the far end of the table where there was a throw over the back of the chair. Lovingly she pulled the throw around my shoulders and motioned me to sit.

“John! Hurry up!” She yelled before cupping my face with her flaming hot hands. I could feel her pulse on my cheeks and I whimpered half with desire and need, half with fear.

“Oh my angel.” She whispered, her bottom lip trembling, “You’re so pale and cold, what’s wrong?”

I opened my mouth to speak; the moment my lips parted a small rush of air brought a tantalizing taste of the heat of my mother’s skin, the promise of her blood, washing over my tongue. ‘Divine’ the voice purred. Like a viper I struck on instinct. The strike was true and deep, my lips forming a seal around the wound where my teeth were buried. Blood pulsed hot and fresh into my wide maw as my Mother’s arms flailed.

MY MA.

I dropped her and stepped back open mouthed. My taste buds danced, the miraculous flavour of her life coated them, while my mind burned with horror. Her eyes were impossibly wide and her mouth was stretched open with terror and desperation as blood poured endlessly from her throat and mouth. Little red bubbles floated optimistically across the expanding crimson pool cradling the remnants of her final gurgling breaths as though by holding all the pieces in place she could be put back together.

This had to be a nightmare. It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t.

“Beth?” My Father’s voice was laced with concern. I looked down at my Mother, Beth, her eyes were glued to me, they begged for something but I didn’t know what. For help? For death? I couldn’t do either; only stand there watching as the light faded from her eyes.

“Beth? What’s going…” The words died on his lips as he caught sight of me.

“S-ssally-Anne? No. No, not my Sally-Girl.” My Pa looked at me with anguish woven into all his features. He took a tentative step towards the exit and the monster within burned excitably. ‘Hunt, HUNT!’ It screamed with exuberance.

I needed to warn him. He needed to stand still. I opened my mouth but a soft whimper was all that passed my lips.

“My poor girl.” He whispered sadly, taking another small backward step. With a leisurely lick of my still wet lips I couldn’t help but take my own small step forward. My body was betraying me, pulling me forward - well pushing me forward; the monster inside me pressing up against my skin desperate for release.

“Pa.” I managed to croak, hoping he could hear the plea in my voice.

“My sweet Sally-Girl.” He put his hands up, palms forward, fingers spread wide; deliberate and slow. It calmed me a little. Calm enough to suddenly realise that I wasn’t wearing any shoes. That little step I’d taken had brought my toes into the sticky cooling pool of my Ma’s blood. How could I have not noticed straight away? My stomach flipped, torn between ecstasy and revolution.

I wanted to be in my Pa’s arms; more than anything - I was terrified. There was something wrong with me. Very wrong.

“Pa.” I sobbed, opening my arms to reach for him, to be held by him. He stepped away and my heart ached. “Please.” I begged, all I could think about was being encased in his embrace. The world moved and I was there. He flinched and swallowed loudly at my sudden proximity but everything was already too strange, too foreign for me to care that I seemed to have willed myself into his arms. Closing my eyes I leant my head against his chest. His heart was steady, the rhythm as intoxicating as it was soothing.

A heartbeat later he relaxed, giving in and placing his hands on my back. There was a peace in it, a comfort that I needed. I wanted to stand in this moment forever and just forget the world.

“I’m so sorry my darling, I’m so sorry this happened to you; my beautiful Sally-Girl.” He whispered against the top of my head. His breath tickled me and the way I could feel each word rumble in his chest reminded me of when I was a little girl; I felt safe.

“Pa?” I murmured softly.

“Yes, my girl?” His reply carried a deep sadness.

“I’m thirsty.” I groaned and my Father became rigid in my embrace.

“Why don’t we go outside and get some fresh air?” He replied cautiously. Despite his soft tone it angered me. I didn’t want to go outside, I was thirsty, so undeniably, unquenchably thirsty. Why didn’t he understand?

“NO! I’m thirsty Pa! I’m so thirsty.” My voice was high pitched and petulant as my throat burned with need. Anger bubbled up as the need grew, I needed him to help me and he wasn't helping! He was making it worse. The tender sound of his heart puttering away was wearing on me, making it impossible to hold the monster within. I stepped back out of his arms.

“I know Sally-Anne, I know you are…”

“THEN WHY WON'T YOU HELP ME!!” I took a furious swipe at him as I screamed. Everything spiraled too quickly. One moment I was finding comfort in the arms of my Father the next I was screaming in pure rage. Caught up in the volatile eruption of my emotion I had lashed out thoughtlessly. In horrific slow motion I watch helplessly as the consequences of my actions unfurl before me.

His emerald eyes were wide and his wire framed glasses slightly askew. His mouth open in a shocked ‘o’. The only sound was the thump of his knees against the stone floor as he clutched his throat. A single bead of blood slipped from the corner of my Father’s mouth, collecting on his chin before dripping onto his hands.

Mesmerized, my whole world was that tasty little drip, rolling, staining his skin.

Pa swayed a little, his eyes locked on me. Locked on my hand. There was something warm on my fingers. Something a little… squishy. Trepidatiously I followed his eyes. The tips of three of my fingers protruded through a ragged bloody strip of flesh. I screamed and flicked my hand sending the chunk sailing through the air and I ran.

I ran before I could hear the wet slap of the torn bloody mess of my Father’s piece of throat hit the ground.

I ran before his body crumpled onto the icy kitchen floor.

I ran hopeless and terrified back to where I had first awoken. Truly if this were a nightmare would I have not roused by now? Was this horror not enough to jolt me back to reality?

I was in the forest but not the clearing - the clearing where I would meet with Ricky. Nothing looked familiar but I was too drained to keep looking. Spying a large Cypress tree with a hollow I crawled inside seeking comfort in the confinement. Using my arm as a pillow I lay on my side and tried to sleep so I could escape from this reality but sleep just wouldn’t come.

The horror was too fresh, too raw, I could almost feel the piece of my Father’s flesh still clinging to my dirty fingers. Every time I closed my eyes I could see my Ma’s anguished filled ones dimming as she died right in front of me.

Because of me.

All the while the voice in my head chanted incessantly ‘Thirsty’. It became the underlying chorours of my misery. I pressed my hands over my ears trying to shut it out. Just as I couldn’t stop the nagging voice I also couldn't stop my own stormy thoughts.

I was a murder. A disgusting, vile, murdering abomination. I was evil. My heinousness was unforgivable. There could be no mercy that God could grant for such atrocity. I would be forsaken and swallowed by the pits of hell. It was only just that I should burn in hellfire for all eternity for what I had done. I felt nauseous; sorrow and guilt were clawing at my heart, at my soul, shredding it to ribbons but yet I couldn't bring a single tear to fall. Not one tear for my lovely, beautiful, adoring family.

My mouth felt full of ash as a single crushing realisation hit me. My family. My Ma. My Pa. My little Brother….“No,” I whispered.

“Peter!” I was on my feet crashing through the forest like lightning. I had left my sweet innocent baby brother alone, abandoned - orphaned. He was helpless; less than a year old, I had to save him. It was unexpectedly easy to retrace my footsteps, seemingly taking no time at all to make my way back home.