3/26/10

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Bye, Baby Bunting ...

The bright red color of blood stained the woman's face, her eyes staring up blankly at the silver edge of the knife. She did not say anything as her fingers trailed along the handle, blood pooling down her wrist to her elbow. She acted as if she wanted to end it herself.

... daddy's gone a-hunting ...

As the lamp light glinted off of the blade, giving it an eerie glow, the woman could see her own eyes in the metal. They were half-way closed and tired looking. She knew that it would come to this. She knew it and she had let it happen. Nothing could help her now. It was over. The hiding, the changing names and moving. The lying and the frequent search for jobs. Everything. It was over. The hunting, was over. The man had found her. This small person, not even a dent in the world, and here she was: dying.

... gone to catch a rabbit skin ....

The stranger stared down in a way that seemed he was almost satisfied. Almost. One last thing to do, and it would be the end. Not for him, no. But for her. Her brown curls stuck to the side of her face as she stared up in silence. Her fingers trailing along the hilt of the knife almost made him think twice. Once again: almost. Most blood pooled out of the corner of her mouth and down her chin to her neck, where her throat moved as she choked a gasp.

"P-Please ... just end this."

He was silent, staring. Her eyes remained locked on his and he let a smile creep out onto his thin lips.

"As you wish."

... to wrap the baby Bunting in.

With one swift move, the edge of the blade was plunged into the woman's skull, penetrating her crown. One last choking gag, a gasp and a whimper, and the woman fell over. It was the end. For her. As he had said. Standing, he wiped his hands off with a white terry-cloth towel, tossing it to the side on the ground. This wasn't the end for him. Oh, no. This was just the beginning.

-----

It's not an entire lie to say that the man was insane. Believing you're one thing when you're not gives you the sense that you are, indeed, crazy. But only half. Only half ... Walking half out of your mind in the world is the way these things start. If you're all out of your mind, you're in the loony-bin already, and are decaying slowly, day by day.

But he was neither half-out nor all-out. He was somewhere between that. Perhaps only 75 percent. And what he did had nothing to do with masochism or sadism. In fact, he hated hurting people. The reason he did it was because he had to. He had to kill or die. It wasn't a fair choice, but life isn't fair. Oh, he learned that from a young age.

After his mother died from his father's abusive way, the man was left alone. He had one brother, he was taken away by his father. Living in a foster home, the man soon grew to know loneliness, and he thrived on it. He loved it; to some extent. Every year, he would be adopted, as he played his Lonely card. But every year, he would get sent back. It was that situation in which this "disease" began to grow.

It's not a healthy environment for a child to feel unloved and unwanted. But this is how it went, and this is not a happy-ending story. So as he grew, he learned how to be hateful and spiteful. He wished everyone away, and that's what he got. By the time he was 18, he had been in 24 homes, and had been returned every single time. Kicked out because he was too old to remain there, he lived on his own for years. That was, until, he was found by a man while searching the streets for food. The new man took him in and gave him the title and name that he never had: Son.

So it was that in which he grew up even more. By 20, he had experienced death for the first time. He witnessed a cat being run over, and as he approached the dead animal, he became curious. If that's all that it took to end a life, even that as boorish and meager as a cat, then what would happen to a person?

He took it upon himself to learn the ways of death. He was self-taught, indeed. After that, he went home and waited. He didn't wait until the perfect moment to experiment, he waited until it was brought to him. And it came, soon. Three weeks after the cat incident, he saw it. Death, I mean. A woman was crossing the road, while using her cell phone, that in which was a stupid act itself. But she was also not paying attention.

The man stood in silence on the sidewalk as she crossed, not seeing that the "Do Not Walk" signal had popped up. She looked up to her right just mere seconds before the semi came barreling by, not able to stop. One moment she was there, the next moment (after a chilling bone-breaking sound), she wasn't. As the truck finally came to a screeching halt, everyone gathered around in the street. People screamed, some shouting at others with phones to call an ambulance.

But the man knew. Oh, yes. He knew. It was too late for the woman. He knew this from experience from the cat. If someone was hit by a car, they were gone. Life ... so fleeting. But, still, he approached. Standing a good distance from everyone else, he snuck a peek at the woman who lie crippled on the ground, every bone in her body broken. As blood came out from unknown and hidden places, he felt something stir inside of him. Something strange that he never felt before. Death made him ... happy. Somewhat. This feeling ... What was it?

As police arrived and pushed everyone back behind yellow tape that fluttered in the breeze, he watched. The paramedics lifted the woman into a blue body back and onto the stretcher, placing her in the back of their car. They did not flip on their siren or lights as they slowly made their way back to the hospital. Or the morgue.

When he made his way back to his house, his father was sitting at the table. When asked what he had done that day, he just stared. Soon a smile had spread across his face in an almost-wicked way and he replied simply, "I learned about Life."

And that was it. That feeling in which he could not describe soon blossomed. Over the next few years, he grew to know what the feeling was. And, to be honest, it was quite simple to know, even for a minor like him. It was a feeling so crippling and disgusting, that it seemed right to him, but only for a short while. After that, after years, it became his handicap. His need for it, his desire for it. A simple thing such as a cat, sent him reeling. All because of ...

Murderous instinct.