The New Reaper (Chapter 4)

Family

As I lay here frozen to this wall, I am starting to think of who I was before I became the Reaper, before all of this even began. Why am I frozen to a wall you ask? I will reveal that information with greater detail later. My family…I hated my family more than any person ever could. They abused me as a child, everyone did, even my own siblings. I do, however, remember having one friend as I was growing up; Samuel was his name. Sam was the only one who never did me any harm; he never hurt me like the others, betrayed me like the others, or abandoned me like the others. He was literally the only one who I could rely on, but soon that too would go away. When I was older, Sam moved away, across the country. Now I was once again and forever alone.

I had learned to fight on my own, with my dad attacking me every day when he came home. When he wasn't home it was my mother who abused me. She would tell me to do my chores, beat me, and then beat me again when I was done with each chore. And when I finally thought I was away from both of them, my brother and sister would come into our room, strike me with whatever they could find, and then throw me out. Since I was four, I could never recall sleeping in my own room. I couldn't sleep in my room because my siblings would throw me out, and if I slept anywhere else my dad would beat me. I had to sleep outside with the animals. It makes sense because they treated me like one. I was more their slave then another family member. I do remember one good thing that happened, and that's the day I finally snapped. I was 22 when it occurred to me that I cannot take this anymore and something drastic needed to be done. Why call someone when I could take matters into my own hands?

It was a cold, bitter night in November; both my mother and father were downstairs in the living room watching television, and my brother and sister were upstairs in there room. I was told to go out to the store and pick up food, so I did what I was told. I returned home and set the bags on the kitchen counter. I looked to my left and noticed a wooden holder for knives; long, sharp knives. All my attention was focused on those knives and I had intentions of changing my life that day. My father looked over at me and saw me looking at the knives and got up and began to walk towards me. "What do you think you're doing? Get back to you chores." He said to me. I gave him a look that I had never given anyone before. He could see the years of pain in my eyes and what I was intending to do that very day. I swiftly pulled one of the large knives from their holder and grabbed my father's shirt. I pulled him close and forced the knife into his stomach. Instead of pulling the knife straight out, I moved it horizontally and exited through his left side. His intestines spewed out onto the floor as he fell to his knees. I gave him a hard kick which made him fall on his back. I then proceeded by jamming the knife through his throat and planted my foot on the handle and pushed as hard as I could. It started cutting through his jaw, and with that I gave the knife one hard kick and it finally broke through the bone and stuck halfway through the roof on his mouth.

My mother was next. She stood up and immediately ran to my position, but slipped on her husband's blood. She was old and fragile so when she fell, she broke a few bones and could not stand back up. She had no strength to move, not even enough strength to scream for help. I slowly stepped over my father's carcass and was now standing above my mother. I slowly bent down on my knees to move closer to her. She only stared at me with tear filled eyes. She too saw the bitterness in my eyes, and that would be the last thing she would see on this earth. "You don't deserve to be called my mother! You don't deserve to even be called human! You're nothing more than a worthless wretch and I hope you burn in hell!" With those words spoken I clenched my hand around her throat. I never let up on the pressure, only increased it. Blood began to fill her mouth, and she was quickly losing her life. My nails dug into her fragile skin, and with one hard pull I ripped her flesh from her neck. I pulled off the remaining flesh surrounding her backbone and twisted her head off. My mother lay there dead next to my monster of a father.

When I was done with my parents I moved upstairs to my siblings, but before I entered their room I went into my father's room. Under his bed was a case and in that case was a shotgun. Father never used it but he did threaten to use it on me a few times. I loaded it with one shot because I knew that that would be all I needed. With my tool of destruction in hand I entered my sibling's room. Both were listening to their own music which would explain why they didn't hear the massacre downstairs. They noticed I had a shotgun in my hand and so my sister screamed while my brother stood up and came at me full force. I turned the shotgun around and hit him as hard as I could with the stock. He fell to the ground and I hit him again…and again…and again, till he could barely move. I was rather enjoying myself at this moment. I then put the shotgun to his head but began to think. "This won't be gory enough." I thought, so I pulled the shotgun away from his face. When my brother looked at me with relief, I moved the shotgun to a position that would create a much larger mess. I put the shotgun in between his legs and pulled the trigger. You should've seen the blood and gore that went everywhere, it was so…exhilarating. I looked at my sister, who was still paralyzed with fear. "It's just you and me left in the house, no one to come help you, no one to hear you scream or cry. So go ahead, scream! Cry! It adds to the rush!" those were the last words that I spoke to my sister. I followed up those words with a strong right hook to the face, then a left hook, then a few jabs to her stomach. I kept punching her in the stomach and soon blood began to pour from her mouth. I dug my nails, which were still fresh with blood, into her gut. With my nails now under her skin, I scratched my way through her flesh and through her muscle until I could see the bones. She was still somehow faintly alive. As for a final blow, I landed my fist as hard as I could on her ribs. The bones broke with such a satisfying CRACK. I then moved the broken bones out of the way to reveal her organs and intestines. I began pulling them from their respected position. I didn't care where they landed, some even covered me. With her stomach now completely void of organs, I grabbed her spine and pushed it through the skin on her back. "It appears my job is done here." I said, but then a knock came to the door.

"It's police, open up! We were told gunfire and a scream came from this house." I knew it was all over, so I picked myself up and crawled into a corner in my brother and sister's room. "If you don't open this door, we WILL come in forcefully." It was only a matter of time before they saw the massacre. I heard a loud crash from downstairs and remained in my position. "Check upstairs, we'll stay down here." Seconds later I swore I heard one of them throw-up. Soon after that they came to my room. First they saw my brother, spewed all over the walls and ceiling. Then they turned their eyes to my sister, or at least what was left of her. This time I actually saw them throw up. After they had emptied their stomachs, they noticed me in the corner, covered in blood and intestines and slowly made their way over to me. "Sir, we've found the culprit." One said over his radio. "Where is he?" the response said." He's upstairs in a corner. He's just sitting there." "Detain him, bring him in." The men followed their orders and did such. I do not recall what the men said at the station. I only recall laying in a cell bed and then being moved into another building. You know the rest from there. Am I a murderer? Yes, I am. Do I still regret my actions? To this day, I have no regrets concerning the people's lives I've ended…