Project One (Part 2)The girl leant over to her stereo and stabbed the play button. Her silver talon leaving an imprint for a fleeting second. A pause, and PJ Harvey began to sing upon command.She picked a book from the pile on the floor, piggled a splat of wax off the cover and stacked a couple more pillows behind her. She was almost comfortable when the door creaked open and her father pushed his sharp, narrow face though the gap. Her heart quickened. But her mother was still here. He stepped inside. His shirt unbuttoned, his face blank. Then her mother followed. She almost sighed. Maybe he was just pissed off at the music. She leaned over and turned the music off and looked expectant of the sermon she would surely receive. Nothing. Then he began to unbuckle his belt. Her mother smiling. The girls eyes became wide with terror. "Mom?" She asked, tears starting. "Mom?" "Close the window hon," Mom says, speaking to her husband yet smiling at the girl. "We wouldn't want to upset the neighbours now, would we?" Stunned, the girl watched her father walk over to the window, fumbling with his fly. "Need any, help?" asked the night. All eyes turned to the window as a shadow stepped inside and picked her father up by his groin and threw him bodily against the opposite wall, scattering books and tapes. "Shush." The shadow turned to her mother. "You'll disturb the neighbours." A big grin virtually disecting his pale face. "And we wouldn't want that now", his voice a parody, head tilted slightly, "Would we?" Her mother tried to ask a question, shout for help or something else but she didn't get the chance to decide what that something else was going to be. He leapt across the room and siezing her by the throat pushed her against the wall and held her there pushing harder and harder against her neck until it cracked with an audible pop. Then gently, he sat her down on the floor, still breathing, although a little ragged. He literaly skipped over to her father, now consious and considering the option of making for the window, his path to the door blocked by the stranger. In perfect English complete with a bow, "Your good lady wife seems to be broken, sir." A kick to her fathers face sends blood spattering against the wall. "You fucking" Kick. "Piece" Kick. "Of rotten" Kick. "shit!" The final kick becoming a stomp as her father falls to the floor, unrecognisable. The stranger seemed then to notice the creening noise coming from the mans wife and he turned around the anger in his gray eyes extinguished in a blink. "And you." Smiling, "Such a pretty face for such a vile, rank, little disease." And gingerly taking hold of her face, he kisses her, deeply, and as he pulls away from her, he strokes her face, pushing her cheek, severing her spinal cord. He licks her blood from his lips and sucks his fingers clean like some redneck after a fried chicken fest. And finally, turning to the girl a puzzled look on his face, "And to think I came here for you." She watched him intently, a slight smile played across her lips. This shadow had just come in and not just killed but massacred her father who would abuse her daily. And her mother, the bitch. What kind of mother was she. "A dead one." That grin again. "Grab yer tapes and whatever else you want." "But," "You can come with me or I can kill you. I don't leave witnesses. Your call." Copyright J.Hill (Subz / spiralDancer) |