Punishment

My eyes strayed towards a woman chastising her son in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Don't you EVER pick up things in the street, ever again! Do you hear me?! Austin! Pay attention to me when I'm talking to you!” The woman screeched, her face red from the effort.

The boy stared at me through bruised eye sockets, a smile tugging at his lips. “Hello, pretty lady.” He called out, waving to me.

The woman's face grew redder, her anger rising as she was ignored. “I said pay attention, you stupid boy!” The woman's hand raised for a fraction of a second before flying downward, back handing the boy roughly.

The boy, whose eyes hadn't strayed from mine, flinched only slightly. He smiled again, though I could see the tears gathering in his eyes.

“Excuse me,” I called out, standing up, “but I believe that will be quite enough.” I stepped out from under the canopy of the umbrella attached to the table I was just sitting at. “Do not strike that child anymore.”

The woman looked at me, shock replacing the anger. “Excuse me? Who are you to tell me how to punish my child?”

“What is the deed done to prompt such violence towards a charming child?” I interrupted her, my eyes narrowing dangerously.

“He picked up a filthy piece of tra-”

I cut her short again, “Yes, he picked up a piece of trash, in the hopes of throwing it away and making this street a bit cleaner.”

Her eyes narrowed on my face as her shock was replaced with anger once again, “You have no right to tell me how to punish my child, girl! Mind your own!”

“I believe you make it everyone's own when you slap a child for picking up a piece of trash. In broad day light at that, as well.” My voice was flat, monotoned, as I stared at her.

“Mind. Your own.” She bit out, grabbing the boy roughly by the arm, and yanking him down the street.

The boy turned to smile at me one last time, waving again, before he and his mother disappeared around a corner.

The woman attempts to scream, her body lashing about, as the pain slowly sinks in.

I stare at her as a smirk spreads across my face. “Well, look who's awake.”

The woman freezes, turning her head to me. She has no eyes, simply empty sockets. She thrashes more violently as blood spills from her hooked wrists. A scream falls from her parted lips, or what was left of them, as the hooks tear deeper into the meat of her wrists.

Keep at it. She deserves Punishment... A voice chimes in quietly, the tone dark and evil.

I rub my gloved hands together while stepping forward with the hilt of a knife grasped in my left hand. The woman's eye sockets bleed as I smear the red tears across her cheek. “No one is going to help you.” I whisper softly, dragging the dull edge of the blade down the woman's naked throat.

Her body shudders as the dull edge slowly digs into her skin. Her screams soon become pitiful whimpers, her voice strained from the abuse.

“You are going to die.” I whisper again, dragging the sharpened edge of the blade across bits of skin, slicing open the sensitive flesh.

She screams again, only to have it cut short by a bloody piece of her shirt. A smile, one that has my lips stretched from ear to ear, graces my face, my eyes scrunching at the utter glee of it all. Her screams were simply delicious. The beautiful, high pitched, distressed sound of it just sends shivers running up and down my spine.

Leaning to the side, I grasp a handful of salt, drizzling a bit of it across the cut flesh. She screams again, her body shuddering violently as the salt burns the open wounds.

“Stop! Please!” She attempts to screech.

I smile softly, slicing more pockets between the skin and muscle, slowly tucking bits of black powder into the slits.

She continues to scream, her form shaking as the salty mixture sinks into the shallow cuts.

Kill her. Her voice grates my last nerves.

I quirk a brow as I withdraw a finger from a rather deep cut, blood and powder caked onto the gloves. “Kill her?” I ask quietly to the air.

Kill her. The voice demands.

The makeshift cloth gag falls from her mouth as her voice becomes higher-pitched, obviously hearing my question. “No, no! Please, don't kill me! I'll never do it again! No!”

Kill her! She doesn't deserve the life given to her! The voice roars in my head, anger evident.

“Alright.”

My lips pull back into a demented grin again. I rip a bit of cloth from the woman's shirt, tucking it into a powder-filled hole. I lead a line of powder away from the woman's flailing form, up the stairs, being sure to make piles large enough to reach the top of the stair above. I pause to make a large pile at the top stair.

I glance towards the woman, smiling lightly as I reach into my pocket. I pull out a box of matches, striking one without much of a problem. I stare at the burning match before dropping it onto the pile of powder.

It ignites immediately, scorching the wooden stairs as it chases the line towards the woman. I shift, throwing open the door and stepping through it quickly. I slam the door, leaning against it while pressing my ear to the door.

A muffled boom shakes the walls, shortly followed by a wet thud as a wave of blood and tissue coat the walls.

I glance down, utter glee crossing my features as blood seeps from under the doorway.

Good job...

The silly woman thought she would go unpunished for her sins.

You are vicious...

I cross my arms over my chest, my lips pulling back in a sort of satisfied grimace.

Perfect.

I smile under the voice's appreciation, a blush crossing my cheeks. “Indeed.” I respond quietly. I turn my attention to the front door, watching the small boy drop his bags in a large pile.

“Pretty lady, is it time to go?”

“Yes, dear.” I respond softly, turning away from the basement door. “Are you ready to leave?” I cock my head to the side.

“Yes ma'am. I have all my things packed.”

I nod as I walk towards the door, allowing the boy to open it himself. He grasps the handle as I glance about the house. “I'll be there in a minute. Don't forget your bags.”

“Yes ma'am.” He turns, hefting his bags over his shoulders.

A smirk makes its way across my lips as I step back towards the basement door. Tearing open the door, barely able to withhold the gleeful bubble of excitement welling up in my throat, I bolt down the stairs.

You are Perfection. You are Vicious. You are... Punishment.

Making sure I don't slip on the slick floor, I skid to a halt in the middle of the room. Unable to withhold the bubble forming in my chest, I tilt my head back, laughing to the blood covered ceiling.

You are it. The one I've been looking for. Will you accept this job? Take it as your own, strike terror into the hearts of all?

“...Yes. Yes I will.” My voice bounces along the walls, echoing back to me, a smirk spreading across my lips once again.

You... are Punishment.

To be Continued...