A/N: Uh, just to quick say, if anyone was hoping for an update on Hide and Seek (for my maybe four fans), I dunno if that'll happen any time soon, as that story is proving to have lost nearly all interest for me....I just can't get inspired for it anymore. Sorry 'bout that; we'll see what happens.
But here's something else for you fine folks. Review for me, if you'd be so kind.
It has been three years since the murder of his wife and eight-year-old daughter, and even now, as David sleeps, he can still remember their faces. But sometime in the night, just when his subconscious thinks it might finally find peace, the dream turns to a nightmare. Their faces are cut and slashed, and the blood is everywhere, never to be washed away from his mind's eye. It will remain forever.
David wants the killer in jail; he wants vengeance. It isn't fair that the monster walks free, able to maim more families, to cause more pain than he already has.
Because, David knows, the murderer has caused him much pain. Nights spent awake, reliving every terrible moment. Visualizing ever smear, every pool of the crimson that overpowered the room when they died.
He tries to move on, to forget, but he can't. His brother tells him he must, because it is hurting their mother. She has lost a wonderful daughter-in-law, lost a beloved granddaughter; why make her feel as if she is losing a son, too?
Maybe she is losing a son, he retorts. Maybe it's too late. You didn't see the blood. You don't see it every time you close your eyes.
No, I didn't, his brother tells him. But I don't want to lose my brother, too.
Now, David tosses and turns. Nightmarish images plague his eyes. He sees her, faded and too bright, like a distant memory, a flashback in one of her favorite Disney movies. His daughter Courtney, smiling angelically, calling, Daddy, Daddy, did you see me on the swing? I flew so high.
But her summery, flowery dress is stained with blood and he can't make himself look away, even when her face flashes to a skeleton and back again. The yellow flowers are morbid, and the white background of the dress is pink and sickening.
Yes, I saw you, he tells her, tears in his eyes. I saw you. I'm so sorry.
Daddy, why are you crying? Daddy? What's wrong? Daddy, help me. I'm bleeding, Daddy, make it stop. Daddy…?
Right before his eyes, in his nightmare, she goes from smiling, outside in the sun, running to him from the swing set, to bleeding to death before him. Her skin grows pale, contrasting with the enlarging pool of blood that envelops her like a halo. Her eyes grow glassy and she stares, her mouth open in an expression of unspeakable horror. She's cold to the touch – or is that his own skin, clammy with fear and dread that ties his stomach into knots when he sees her corpse?
And Olivia, his beautiful wife. She smiles at him and seems to say, It's okay, David. It's all right. Stop crying, now – you'll worry Courtney. She'll wonder what's wrong. Don't frighten her.
There are bruises all over her arms and legs and he feels as though he's going to be sick. He cries; their bodies are cradled in his arms for what seems like hours before the police arrive. They take away his daughter and his wife, and he wishes he was on a gurney with them, peaceful in death.
But they're not peaceful. How could they be? They have been tortured, mercilessly murdered, butchered at the hands of a lunatic.
Their killer needs to be in jail. He needs to pay for what he has done – he is a monster, he has committed an unspeakable crime. He needs to pay and David prays that someday he will.
After all, what kind of mad man murders his wife and daughter?