Just Let Me Die Already
Chapter 4: Squee Witnesses A Murder, Or Two
I lack ownership of JtHM and a life, so bear with me.
Nny started forward again, the terror in the man's eyes was so intense, I swear his pupils were GLOWING. Suddenly, Nny leaped at him, upon landing, the chair fell backwards on to the floor positioning Nny so that he had one knee on his breastbone and another on his throat, then, he lowered the knife to the man's lips, he pushed them apart with the blade and then rammed the knife down his neck, twisting painfully with every thrust. By the end the poor guy was coughing up blood and screaming noiseless cries for help and mercy, like Johnny was going to listen.
He stood up off the floor, spat on the dead mans chest and looked over at me.
"Sorry, I got carried away." He held out his hands, palms upwards. "But the fucker bled on me, so now I guess we're even." I must look stupid, I thought, Nny standing there, all covered in blood, and myself, standing in front of him like a goldfish, opening ad closing my mouth with no sound coming out.
"His death was not in vain." Nny said, no emotion showing on his face. "He died so that thousands may live."
"What do you mean?" I asked, gaping at Nny's victim's tonsils, they were hanging from the ceiling fan.
"My duty," Nny said. "That was just part one." He moved swiftly over to the wall-of-pointy-looking-thingies and selected two paintbrushes. He handed one to me and then walked over to the body. He dragged it over to the crimson painted wall and I realized what he used as paint.
We painted the wall with the guy's blood while Johnny explained to me what was behind it and why he killed people, to tell the truth, I was terrified. The gruesome task complete, we headed upstairs, I grabbed my suitcase and backpack and Johnny showed me to my room, or rather, my loft. Then he left to shower while I unpacked. I had a bed in there already and there was a cardboard box which I used as a closet, I was so tired after all that happened that in the end, I fell asleep on my bloodstained mattress in my jeans and tee shirt.
My dream actually scared me a bit, not because I was killing my father, but because I was enjoying it, every part of me wanted him dead, I hated him with every fiber of my being.
In the dream, I was in my house walking along when I spotted my Dad,
"Why are you back?" He sneered, "I thought you'd died."
"Bad luck, sorry." I said, sliding a pocket knife into my hand from my sleeve. In a flash, I was on top of my father, pinning him down, I picked up his wrist and sliced it, with every cut, feeling better and better. I then proceeded to cut every piece of his skin that wasn't covered with clothing, in every direction. Then, to finish him, I plunged the knife into his scull, silencing his screams forever.
Another quite short chapter but it's all that I can manage at this time, I'm tired now, I think I might sleep, I probably won't because as soon as I turn my laptop off I'll be wide awake again. Still, it's worth a shot.