by Tobias Wade
I ran to the kitchen to find a phone to call the police and everywhere I stepped was covered in blood. Blood on the floor; bloody handprints stained the wall. In horror I remembered stabbing the smaller of the two animals. Jason lets out a scream and runs from me, his hand streaking blood down the hall. I suddenly relive the entire fight with the hogs.
I wake up to a crash and a scream. I walk out of the bedroom to see Becky picking up pieces of a broken vase that Jason has knocked over. Jason runs toward me, happily calling, “Daddy!” I haul off and kick my two-year-old son in the face. Becky shrieks as Jason falls.
“What the fuck!” she cries in shock, picking up a piece of the shattered glass and coming toward me to retrieve our fallen son.
I retreat to the bedroom closet and find my knife. When I try to open the door, it’s locked. The locks we installed on the outside as an extra safety measure to keep Jason away from dangerous things. I begin stabbing and kicking at the door. It splinters easily, and I break out of my prison to renew my assault. Becky is holding Jason and her purse and is trying to get out the front door to one of the cars. I am too fast, however, and immediately corner them. Becky screams at me to stop, waving her broken shard of glass at me desperately. She sets Jason on the ground and tells him to run out the door and hide. He takes a few clumsy steps and I strike at him with the knife and he falls against the wall, his tiny hands smearing blood across the newly painted surface. Becky manages to catch me with the shard, but the cut is tiny. I stab her in the neck and she collapses on the kitchen floor. I finish them both off before going outside to hunt phantoms.
On the dresser, set up as if on display, were the heads of my wife and son, apples shoved into their mouths. My knife was imbedded in the wood of the dresser between them, its blade and handle covered in gore. The drips were coming from their congealing blood as it seeped onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip…
Sheriff Wood keeps screaming at me, “Where are the bodies? What did you do with their bodies???”
And I guess that’s what Jack meant when he said I could keep part of his winnings. It was a little joke. Something that the Devil might find funny.
And that’s all I can remember.
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