~The Lovely Bones~
Barry Joseph Campbell. That is the name of the man who killed me. The man who took everything from me.
When he was young his mother would chastise him about everything. Tuck in your shirt, your grades aren't high enough, stop eating like a slob, sit up straight. Normal things that any mother would get at their children about. But over the years the criticism became more and more until one day she went to far.
"You're a good for nothing, just like your father."
His mother had been a very loving woman when he was little. But after his father left them to bankruptcy everything changed. She could no longer look at her son without seeing his father.
Soon after she began drinking and the beatings didn't come long after that. What she did to him was so degrading and disgusting... it makes my stomach turn just thinking about it. I hate it but... I couldn't help but feel pity for him.
Finally one day she drank to much. He was ten years old then. After a beating he had laid on the floor for two hours knowing that if he moved he would draw her attention. She lay flopped out on the couch with a whole bottle of scotch in her hand. Finally she drank enough to pass out. He was confused when he heard the gurgling sound she was making. Finally he realized it was safe and went over to inspect her. She was choking on her own barf. A pitiful sight. He knew he should roll her over, he had done so before, but his hands didn't move. His arms hung still at his sides. He watched as she gagged and coughed until she lay still. At first he was shocked then he ran to the neighbors to tell them what happened.
His life was no better at the orphanage. The other kids beat him and thought he was weird. At some points he was beaten half to death. One day a fight took place in the kitchen. He got hold of a knife and pinned one of the other boys hands to a table.
That's when it started. The sensation of the knife cutting through soft muscle, the look of anguish in the boys eyes, the terrible sound that erupted from his throat, they were like music to him. And as soon as he realized it, he feared it, feared himself. He spent the next decade suppressing these feelings, trying to rise above them. When he wasn't able to, to kidnapped small animals, such as dogs and cats, and took it out on them instead. Everything went well. He had a routine. He followed it and nothing went wrong. Until one fateful night...
Barry got married at 22 to a beautiful young woman named Marsha Louis. They had a peaceful life together and were happy. That is until Barry's employer's company went broke and he was left jobless. He looked for work but no one would hire him. He suggested leaving town. Central had tones of jobs for the picking but Marsha refused saying her whole family was there. That's when the fighting started. One day she slapped him across the face and that was enough to set him off. All of his suppressed memories of his mother and the beatings he endured all came rushing back to him and he stabbed her with the knife he had been using to prepare there dinner. He couldn't stop after that, he just kept cutting and cutting her. She begged and she pleaded and he wished with all his might for her to be silent. Maybe if she had been he would have stopped but the more noise she made the angrier he became and the only medicine to that anger was the sensation of the knife cutting through her and the thought of all the pain he was causing her. So he kept cutting and cutting her until she was silent and then he did not stop until she was reduced to a pile of blood on the kitchen floor. And he marvelled afterwards at what he had done and he cherished it.
But after the glamour faded and reality set in he was once again terrified by what he had done. He left town and moved to Central hoping to start a new life for himself. It wasn't long before he opened a butcher shop for himself with his late wife's savings. Most people excepted his story of being a widowed husband who's poor wife's flame had been put out by a rare blood disease that had plagued her since birth and they even pitied him. He had them all rapped around his little finger.
He hoped that running the butcher shop would satisfy his needs, and it did at first. But he felt himself yearning for the screams, the look of terror in their eyes and the feeling of ownership he felt as his victim looked up pleading with him. He was like god to them. He held their life in his very hands and it was up to him whether he let them live... or let them meet their fate.
One day he made a delivery to a man's shop and noticed his daughter making googly eyes at him. She was about 15. He began fantasising about her, her long legs, luscious curves and her long blond hair... he could see himself pulling it out of her scalp with his fists and slicing through her flawless pale skin with his knife. He told himself he would not act on it until one day she made an unexpected visit to his shop.
"I'm here to place an order," she said innocently enough. She had no idea what she had done. It was the perfect setting. The entrance to the building was in a back alley, nonetheless in a very abandoned part of town and it was a butcher shop. No one would find it odd to find blood stains on the floor. It was normal. These thoughts hadn't occurred to him until that moment.
"Does your father know your here?"
"No."
She was his first victim in three years. After that he couldn't stop. It wasn't long after that... I...
I hated him.
Two updates in one night, I think I deserve a reward. I'll except reviews though pretty please :3
