by Adam Wik
By the time I hung up all the blood had drained from my face.
“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.
“That was Ms. Jenkins downstairs. The hospital called. Mom’s been in a car accident.” I sunk into the chair by the phone. “She’s ok, a few broken bones, but she’ll live. If they won’t release her tonight, Ms. Jenkins is going to come check in on us.”
“We should hurry then and find—”
I pounded my fist on the wall. “No. It can’t wait that long. Mom could have died. We have to do this now.”
“But who can we find that quickly?”
I stood up and went to the mantle. “We’ll find a homeless person. It won’t be hard, we’ll offer them money if we have to, get them into an alley where no one can see and then do it.” I pulled the sword down and slid it into the sheath, hoping it would stay there long enough for us to find someone.
“But how can you do that? What did some homeless person ever do to deserve that?”
I spun to face her. “What did Mom do to deserve this? Huh? It’s them or her and I choose them.”
Sarah flinched. “Fine. Let’s go.”
We got our shoes and jackets on and headed for the door. Before we got there, Sarah’s little brother ran out from the kitchen and blocked us.
“No!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. He had the cordless phone from the kitchen clenched in his hand.
“What are you doing?” Sarah asked. “We won’t be gone long, go play videogames.”
“No,” he said again. “I won’t let you hurt anyone else.”
Sarah and I both turned pale.
“What do you mean?”
“I heard you last night. I know it was you. I know what you did to Daddy. Now you’re going to hurt someone else. I’m not gonna let you.”
“You don’t understand,” I said. “I was protecting your sister, you know what he was doing to her. If we don’t do this now my Mom will die!”
“Daddy wasn’t bad!” he shouted back. “Sissy was bad. She deserved to be punished and you killed him. I won’t let you go. I’m telling.”
He was going to call the police. He was going to tell them everything. Mom would die. I’d rot in prison for the rest of my life and my mom would die.
“Please,” I pleaded, “she’ll die. If you do this you’re killing her.”
“You killed Daddy,” he said, “I hope your Mom dies.”
He started to dial 911. The sword flashed before I knew what was happening. The phone, and the hand holding it, thumped to the ground. Sarah’s little brother screamed, staring at the blood pulsing from his severed wrist. I brought the blade up again and buried it in his skull. The screaming stopped.
I yanked the sword free. Again, no blood stained the blade. I slid it back into the sheath. Mom was safe.
Sarah was on her knees.
“Why?” she whispered.
“He was going to call the police. We would have gone to prison, and then we never could have saved Mom. She’s safe now.”
“You murdered my brother.”
“I had to. I didn’t have a choice. You know I didn’t. Now help me, we have to clean this up.”
That was when the front door opened and Ms. Jenkins walked in.
“Kids, I’m here to take you up to the hospital to see Mrs…”
She froze when she saw the gory mess in the hallway.
“Oh my…” Her eyes flicked to Sarah, then to me and the sword in my hands.
“I don’t know what happened here but, it’s going to be ok. I’m going to take you to see your mom, o.k. sweetie? Just, put the sword down.” Her hand slid into her purse. She was pulling out her cell phone.
“I’m sure this was all just a terrible accident.”
My thumb pushed the sword free with a click. The blade made such a soft, sweet whisper as it slid from its case. Ms. Jenkins turned even more pale. The first time you kill someone is the hardest. After the first one, it gets a lot easier.
About the Author
Adam Wik lives in Cincinnati with his wife Caroline and dog Bailey. In addition to teaching English, practicing Parkour and martial arts and writing fiction he also writes about fitness, language learning and lifestyle design for RoadToEpic.com. You can get in touch with Adam by e-mail at [email protected]