He yells like a madman as he rushes towards me. My head is clear. The split-second feels like an age to me. I smirk. I flash my blade across his outstretched arm. He reels backwards as the blood pours instantly from his hand. I climb to my feet and stand there staring at him dementedly.
“What the fuck is happening?” he yells, but it’s little more than a mumble.
“He is pathetic. Look at his pain, look at his fear. Finish him off. Slice him up,” the voice demands.
I nod slowly and I dream of the feeling.
‘Oh, how joyous it will be.’
My father pulls back his fist and throws another punch. I step to the side. He is slow, off balance, clumsy. He falls. I laugh. He gets up again. This man is desperately fighting for his life against a child. His fist flies again. I see it coming but I don’t move. I let it hit me. I want to feel the pain. I want to show him how helpless he is. The strike is powerful, fuelled by adrenalin, driven by desperation. I feel his hand break as it hits me. I stand smirking at him. I can see the fear in his eyes. I can see his hope fading.
I come forward with a chilling smile. He backs away. I hold my blade up. He backs into the bedside table. He catches the lamp as it falls and hurls it at me. I block it with my hand and it smashes on the floor. There is a split second of silent nothing, as I stare, smirking, at my panting foe.
The voice yells out. It drives me forward. My eyes go wild as I charge at him. Wide-eyed fear is all over his stupid fucking face. He knows his time has come.
I jump knee first and strike him in the ribs. I hit him hard and I feel them crack. He crumples, both his body and his spirit. He falls down again. He groans and struggles to move. I stand over him. The evil burns inside me, the rage boils, the voice screams. I kick him in the head. He howls as it jars his whole body. I kick him again and again in the face, in the ribs. I stamp down on him. I laugh wildly as I jump up and down. I snarl and hiss like a wild animal as I pound down on him. I can feel bones crunching beneath my feet. His face looks like jelly. Blood oozes from everywhere: his mouth, his nose, his eye sockets, until he hardly moves.
His breath rasps through his swollen throat and his broken teeth. I crouch down and lean over him. The voice tells me what to do once again. I bask in the joy of its bidding.
I look at my precious blade. I hold the razor downwards and plunge it swiftly, deep into his eye socket. I stamp on the handle. I need to be sure its planted in his brain. I stamp again as his breath stops. Only the smallest bit of the razor handle is left sticking out of his destroyed eye socket, surrounded in blood. I smile as I jab my fingers into his eye. They sink deep into the wound. I feel the warmth of his blood and the mush of his brain as I grab the handle. I put my foot on his face and pull. His slushy flesh slurps as the suction is broken. Once again, I have my precious razor in my hand.
I LOVE LUCY
I stand, catching my breath, and survey the scene. Blood soaks the carpet and the blankets. It hangs down from the bed like a thick waterfall, jellifying as it coagulates. I see the two unrecognisable bodies. My humanity may scream out in horror but I bask in the glorious carnage before me, the lifeless bodies slumped, unmoving like an island of pulp in a scarlet lake.
There’s a battle in my mind, a battle that my humanity will lose. It is nothing compared to me and the awesome power of the voice.
I smirk as it comes to me again, the voice. It echoes through my mind. I welcome it in.
“Find Lucy,” it says.
My human heart sinks as my eyes light up with glee. The last shred of my humanity fights back.
‘No, she’s my sister. She’s so precious. Please don’t touch her. Shush now, your time has been and gone. She’s mine,’ I tell it.
“SHE’S MINE!” the voice screams.
Both my humanity and I know that we are slaves to its will.
But it begs, nevertheless. ‘Leave her be, please.’
“Get her!”
I start to move. It drives me on. I’m merely a passenger on my legs. They’re just taking me wherever the voice makes them go.
I step down the hall. My clothes stiffen as the blood dries, my shoes stick to the carpet.
My humanity begs with every step for the voice to release it.
‘I like the voice. It makes me feel warm. It makes me feel complete.’
‘Not her, she’s just a little girl. Please, no.’
‘Shut the fuck up!’ I tell it in my mind.
The voice doesn’t care for its whining, it just drives me on.
My heavy feet thud down the hallway. I approach the door.
My humanity sees the sign that hangs from her door. Brightly coloured cartoon flowers surrounded the words, the childish words that sum up what always seemed the essence of her: ‘Little Princess’s Room.’
The tears start to fall from my good eye, as, for a moment, a shred of humanity overcomes me like a wave. Its heart aches for what I’ve done. It wails. My hand trembles as I place the razorblade to my throat. My humanity yearns to end it all. It prepares to slash. The voice won’t let it. The voice is always there. Both my humanity and I are under its control.
It makes me reach out a hand for the door handle. My heart races, first with fear and then exhilaration. I turn the handle and the door opens.
The room is deeply dark and silent, silent except for my breath. I reach out and switch on the light. It cuts through the dark in an instant.
My humanity breathes an enormous sigh of relief as I see the room is empty. It is empty apart from the teddy bears and toys, the usual props that adorn her room, with its pink walls and Disney princess pictures. Her room seems untouched.
‘Thank you,’ my humanity whispers.
“No, find her!” the voice yells.
‘With pleasure,’ I answer.
‘NO! You can’t. Leave her alone. She’s so sweet. She’s so innocent,’ my humanity says.
‘You can’t stop me,’ I taunt it.
With rage burning in my eyes, I start to tear the room apart.
“Lucy, dear sweet little Lucy. Where are you?” I sing out playfully.
I look under the bed, then in her wardrobe. I rip the curtains off the rail with a scream. She isn’t here.
The voice shouts, “Find her! Search everywhere!” It won’t let me stop, it won’t let me rest.
I glow with the blackest evil. It burns inside my cracking mind.
‘Please don’t.’
That fucking humanity’s back again. ‘Why don’t you fuck off or just die?’
‘Please let me die.’ It begs like a bitch. I won’t even respond.
I head out the door, back down the hallway, towards my hopeless fate. Still I clutch my beloved razor in my grasp. I can’t wait to feel it slicing through flesh. What exhilaration. My precious, precious razor. It’s meant to be in my hand and it will be forever. Its destiny and mine are one and the same. I’ve never felt so much love.
I stagger down the hall, leaving a trail of blood behind. I squelch through the red puddle as it pools outside my parents’ room and soaks into the carpet.
‘How beautiful it is.’
I grin from ear to ear as I jump up and down, splashing it everywhere. I giggle out loud, filled with joy.
“Enough. Find her!” The voice makes me move again. It knows there’s no time for childish games.
I get to the stairs and make my way down. My feet loudly thud under each and every step. Maybe my humanity’s trying to warn my sister that I’m coming for her. She will have run when she heard the screams. She could be anywhere by now.
My humanity feels so sad for her.
Fuck my humanity! It’s my weakness, it always has been.
I relentlessly, frantically look in the cupboard under the stairs, behind the sofas, behind the curtains, all the places she always hid whenever we played hide and seek. The voice is using my knowledge of my little sister against her.
I search and search, every cubby hole, every hiding place. She’s not here.
Again, my humanity feels a glimmer of hope that she’s gone, that she’s made it out of here.
I’ve searched everywhere except the kitchen. I kick the door open, switch on the light. My razor is calling to me. I’m so desperate to cut something. Still I can’t find her.
“Fuck! Where is she?” I shout out loud.
My humanity hopes so much that she’s run away into the night, away to safety, away from here, away from the terrors that await her, the deadly threat that is me. The person she loves the most is hunting her.
‘You’ll never find her. She’s gone,’ my humanity says.
‘Not you again.’
“Go outside, find her!” the voice demands.
I head out the back door. My bare feet are cold in the dew-soaked grass. I don’t care; I hardly even notice. The moonlight beams down, glinting off my blade. My breath is just steam in the cold air. I head down into the darkness, brimming, overflowing with evil intent.
I see the shed ahead of me, the place where my dad keeps his tools and Lucy keeps her pet rabbit. I can feel an energy within. I’m drawn towards it. I approach the wooden door and open it. I reach out a hand and flick on the light.
I feel a shock when I see her. She looks so beautiful, with her short blonde hair, wearing her favourite pink mermaid pyjamas. My eyes quickly flash around the scene before me.
Among the tools and the shed’s clutter, Lucy is standing, staring, silent. That’s when I notice the blood on her face. Then I notice the scissors in her hand, long handled, blood dripping, clenched tight in her grasp. She looks at me and smiles. Her ear’s mutilated. A huge chunk of the top has gone.
My humanity wants to run over, hug her and tend to her wound. She should be crying, but she’s not. She’s just smirking and staring.
She looks down. I follow her eyes down to the floor. There’s a pool of blood by her feet and the pulpy mess of the mutilated rabbit: decapitated, gutted, entrails pouring out like spaghetti. The images flash in my brain.
My humanity screams at the horror. Lucy, the picture of innocence.
She looks at me and smiles coldly. Her skin is so pale, her eyes are so crazy. She steps towards me and hugs me round the middle. I hug her back. Never did I feel so much love for her. Our embrace lasts an age. She looks up at me again. She smiles.
‘Does the voice have a hold of her too?’
She takes my hand in hers. Now, the inseparable pair that we were in our sanity, we are just as inseparable in our psychosis.
We stare out into the darkness, hand in hand, vacant, content. We can’t tell what it is, but we both know our destiny awaits us.
AN ISSUE WITH AUTHORITY
‘Humanity, where are you now?’
It just mumbles.
At last I’ve defeated it. I’ve destroyed my weakness, my guilt, my fear, my doubt. Anger is the one true emotion, the most powerful of all. It drives me on.
The voice won’t let me bask in the glory that it created. It can read my thoughts; it can control me. I haven’t destroyed my humanity. The voice has.
‘Fuck love, fuck it all.’
“Go inside!” the voice cries out.
I feel a tugging on my arm and see Lucy’s little face smiling up at me.
“Let’s go, Tommy. We have to,” she says.
“I know, sweetheart, I know.”
We step out into the night and back towards the house, her long blood-stained scissors held so firmly in her hand, my beloved razor clenched in mine.
“Where are Mummy and Daddy?” she asks.
Is that her humanity talking? Even if it is, mine can’t answer.
“They’re dead. I cut them.” My voice is cold, as if I feel nothing. But I do, I feel glorious.
“You killed them, Tommy?”
“Yes,” I confirm.
“So, I can’t kill them then?” It wasn’t her humanity talking after all.
“No. Sorry, my love.”
“Oh.” She sounds disappointed.
We go back in the house. The silence inside almost echoes from the walls as we make our way towards the front door. Anticipation fills my soul, as I wonder what the voice has in store for us next. The shadows and the quiet linger around us. The cold air leaves goose bumps on our skin.
I look at Lucy. I smile.
The silence is shattered by a thunderous bang.
We jump as one and look at each other in stunned silence. Who could it be?
There’s another aggressive bang. A voice comes from the other side of the front door. “It’s the police. Open up,” it says.
We both freeze. My humanity is a jumble of fear and relief.
‘Will we be saved from this nightmare? Will I be arrested and spend the rest of my life in prison?’
Surely, I’m done for now. I’m a cold-blooded murderer and I deserve all I get. But Lucy, my thoughts are for her.
The cop bangs and shouts again. We huddle silently as the familiar sound of breaking glass fills the air. They’re almost inside. The cop’s arm goes through the broken window. It will be just seconds before his hand finds the latch and then they’ll be inside. I think we’re fucked.
The voice tells us how pathetic we are, as we duck down and scurry against the wall in the front room. Draped in darkness, we embrace, hiding our weapons between our bodies. Our anticipation, our fear, our excitement, ever grows as the door swings open and bangs against the wall. The heavy booted footsteps of two policemen entering the hallway sound out.
“Hello, is anyone here?” a voice calls out. “Go upstairs,” he whispers to the other cop.
We hear the footsteps go up the stairs. The other cop starts to search downstairs
His footsteps head towards us. Lucy starts to sob loudly. The voice tells me to follow her lead. Unthinking, we create the impression that we’re the victims here. After all, who could ever suspect us, two innocent children, could commit such acts of unimaginable violence, such atrocities?
The cop hears the sobs and comes closer. “It’s okay now,” he says. “I’m here to help. What happened?”
“They’re all dead,” Lucy sobs.
The cop crouches down beside us. He puts a hand on her back.
“It’s all over now. You’re safe,” he whispers, trying to soothe us.
He gently pulls Lucy and me apart. He shouldn’t have done that.
The voice screams, tearing through our minds, unhinging our sanity.
“Kill him! Cut him!”
Overcome by evil, our moment to strike has come.
A split second lingers as the explosion of fury engulfs us.
My blade flashes as it slits the cop’s throat. The glorious scarlet waterfall spills down his front in an instant. In almost pre-rehearsed timing, Lucy jabs her scissors up, into his chin. The long blade disappears up to the handle into his skull and finds a home behind his eyes. I stare into his eyes as they are filled with panic and shock.
The glory, the joy, the inner peace we feel. He’s dead in an instant. His lifeless body slumps down onto his knees as the blood flows. He never even had a chance to scream. We were clinical, deadly, swift and silent.
He slumps forward, lifeless, leaning up against us, his blood drenching us as we struggle to retrieve our weapons from the sticky suction of his blood and raw human meat.
The thunderous rumble of boots follows a scream from upstairs. The other cop comes rushing down the stairs and out of the front door. He throws up violently. Retching noises fill the night, as he spews his guts up. It seems he had stumbled across the flesh and blood stew upstairs.
I push the dead cop off me. Lucy stands up, her golden hair stained red with blood. I watch on as she flashes me a wink with a cold smirk on her pretty face.
‘Go on, my child, go,’ I say to myself.
‘No, Lucy, don’t!’ my humanity screams.
‘Oh,’ I mock, ‘haven’t heard from you for a while.’
She moves silently on, her weapon concealed behind her back, towa
rds the front door. I follow. She calls out to the cop calmly and coldly.
“Hey, you there, mister. Don’t worry. Everything is fine.” Her voice is cold. A tingle rushes down my spine. My heart races in anticipation.
The cop turns to face her, dribble and spew still hanging off his chin. His eyes water as he wipes his mouth. Then they open wide in shock as he sees her standing there, caked in blood. She smiles sweetly at him, as though she doesn’t have care in the world.
He approaches her. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks.
“Lucy,” she replies, sounding so innocent.
“That’s a pretty name,” he smiles. “What happened here, Lucy?”
She smiles back, the sweetest little girl smile.
“They’re all gone. They’re all dead.” She’s menacingly calm.
He puts his arm around her shoulder.
The voice screams loudly as, with a roar, she thrusts her scissors into the pit of his knee and twists with both hands.
The man lets out a bloodcurdling scream as the agony rushes through his body. He swings out an arm in instinct and knocks her flying.
Rage wells through me, surges like fire through my veins.
“Nobody does that to my sister!” I rush at him, the voice urging me on, filling me with strength. He is my target. Everything else is just a blur. I ready my razor and ready my soul.
He sees me coming. He takes a step back. I slash but he pushes me away. I go again. My blood is boiling.
“This fuck must die!” the voice screams. “Spill his blood! Cut him deep!”
I slash again. He catches my hand. I push and push. He doesn’t budge.
“Sink it in!” the voice yells, giving me ever more strength.
I surge forward, he steps back. He screams again. Lucy’s scissors sink into his back.
I push him crashing down as he begs us to spare him. He tells us of his wife and his child. I couldn’t care less about them. If they were here, I’d cut them too.
Lucy towers over the floored man, his face etched in pain. His screams tell of his pain. He weeps like a little child. He knows his days are numbered. Lucy smirks. She plunges her scissors into his neck and twists. Blood pools around the blades. He gargles scarlet bubbles as his last breath leaves his body.
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