Isaac Foster shoved his bandaged hand deep into his trouser pockets, slouching intimidatingly while he walked through the crowd downtown. With each step, he aggressively swung his shoulders, making for the perfect, fear-mongering saunter. The people around him looked at him fearfully, and some even muttered insults under their breath at the young man.
Zack supposed they feared his bandaged body, and were perhaps intimidated by his big, husky build. It also could've even been his saunter. He worked hard on that—so it was doing it's job.
Usually, the killer made more of an effort to hide his face—mostly his bandages covering his burns, but he was rather exposed in his new uniform. It was hard. Zack could ditch the bandages, but people would be drawn to his burn scars. Covering them with bandages, though, made him look like a freakin' mummy. There wasn't really any other option for him, so he just decided to hide his appearance. At least they wouldn't call him a monster or a freak because of the scars.
The look of disdain and judgement on their faces still disgusted him—made his blood boil.
He wanted to go ahead and kill the whole crowd… but even Isaac knew that he wouldn't be able to kill them all. There was simply too many to kill at once, and he could not afford there being any witnesses. The Pigs in Blue were hot on his tail, and Zack didn't want to get thrown in the slammer.
No, he decided that his death will come on his own terms.
So, to lay low, the killer took to killing randoms who mistakenly roam the alleys… The streets were always filled to the brim with meat-bags—especially downtown, so he couldn't go killing there. The alleys offered a small bit of privacy, not many people dared to venture them, even the police… after all, it was a known fact that most of those piteous souls who ventured those alleys never came back.
The young man felt the need to blow off some steam, so he decided to go find a more isolated block in town, away from the hustle of the popular downtown area. Isaac loathed sitting around and waiting for people to stumble into the alley, but he felt he had no choice…
Gotta lay low…
He sauntered for a while until he came across the really scummy part of town, where a majority of the buildings were abandoned—save for the thugs and scamps who squatted in them.
The streets were poorly illuminated by flickering light posts—an attempt to make the area safer… it didn't work too good, because people were still getting shanked daily in the scummy areas of town. Garbage littered the streets, and the noise of big rats scuttling across the pavement echoed in the alleys… It was a befitting environment for the human trash who stuck around.
Zack excitedly grasped his knife and pulled it out of his shoe, casually carrying it in his right hand. He somewhat patiently roamed the empty streets.
People avoided going out at nighttime, as the people feared that they would get murdered by the infamous serial killer—Zack. They were right to be scared. Isaac was not the kind to spare his victims… regardless of age and gender.
He was sure that he's killed plenty of children before. And obviously, he had killed women before. Just because they were young or the "fairer sex", Zack believed they didn't deserve to be spared anymore than some adult male should. The notion was ridiculous. They were all scumbags… prancing around with their goofy grins, and being… happy.
Plus, killing a family usually gave Isaac immense joy. He hated families more than anything.
After killing a few children and women, he saw less of them walking out alone. For some reason, they thought that walking with a man would help to save them.
Oh, were they wrong.
Eventually, Zack stopped in his tracks, to see a family of three walking through an alleyway to his left. A malicious smile began to creep onto his face.
It appeared to be a very stereotypical, perfect, happy family… A father, a mother, and a little child, walking harmoniously, with the child in the middle. Both the parents held on to one of the child's hands, and sometimes, the child would lift it's feet off of the ground, and the parents would lift it up, and the child would swing.
The sight made Zack's blood boil—even more than watching the usual happy saps.
It was just like the cheesy shit that he had witnessed on the sappy Lifetime movies he occasionally saw on Gray's television. They annoyed him so much that he had once kicked in the televisions screen to stop it.
And he was going to do the same thing to this family.
Isaac began to swiftly approach the family, who were ignorant of his approach. Once he was at a comfortable distance, he stopped, and began to confront them.
"Hey there," He greeted casually. The family froze in their tracks, and the father and mother's heads snapped back towards Zack. Their eyes were struck with fear, and the hesitated before talking back.
"W-who are you..?" The father asked, defensively stepping closer to his child.
"Me..? I'm called a lot of things…" Zack mused. "'The Psycho Killer', 'freak', 'monster'… But I call myself Zack." The parent's forms shrivelled with fear, and their child became frightened.
"You mean that you're t-that serial killer? The one that's been on the news the past few years..?" The mother asked fearfully.
"Yup." Isaac grunted.
"Daddy, is he going to kill us..?" The child cried. His father held onto it's shoulders, and kissed it on the forehead. Disgusting.
"…No. Go with mommy. I'll be there with you in a sec." he said, shoving his child into the arms of his wife. They shared a long, somber look, and Zack audibly gagged.
"Well, how's about I give you three a head start?" Zack asked, adrenaline beginning to pump in his veins. "Usually, I only give people to the count of three, but I'm feeling generous… I'll give ya five."
Zack wanted to drag this out a little, have some fun watching the family's faces distort with agony.
The parent's looked at him suspiciously, and began to open their mouths and question him, but Isaac began his count.
"Five," He drawled. The family was rendered frozen.
"Four," The father pushed the mother and child away, and he began to approach Isaac, fear in his eyes.
Heh, he's gonna sacrifice himself to save his ugly-ass wife an' brat.
"Three,"
"Two," The little child tripped, and the mother struggled to pick it up.
"One," Isaac readied his knife, and eyed the man sacrificing his life so that his family could hopefully escape.
"Time's up, ya should've ran with yer family..!" The killer bolted towards the father, and held his knife to his throat, grabbing him by the collar with the other hand. The man weakly raised his arm to defend himself, but Isaac overpowered him, keeping his knife against him.
"Look how quickly yer happy fuckin' grin turned into a wince filled with despair!" Isaac howled, cackling insanely. The father squirmed.
"Please, please don't hurt us..!" He cried, tears rolling down his face. "We're a family… have some pity!" Zack spat in his face.
"Families were made to be broken," The killer sneered, quickly thrusting his knife into the man's throat.
Blood spurted from his neck, and he began to sputter. Isaac could feel his blood splatter onto his face, and pool onto his hand. He shoved the man down to the ground, cackling loudly.
Isaac sprinted past him, spotting the mother and child in the distance, maybe only fifty metres away. As he drew closer, his laughs grew louder, the sound ricocheting off the alley walls, filling the area with his insane laughs. It toke only seconds for Zack to catch up to them. He grabbed them by the hair on their heads, and forcefully shoved them to the ground.
"N-no!" The woman cried, gathering the small child in her arms. They hit the ground hard, and both had cried out in pain.
The dark walls of the alley threw back the echoes of his guffaws and chortles, amplifying the looks of fear on both the mother and the child's face.
"Please… please don't k-kill us, please," The woman beseeched him, fluids flowing out of every orifice on her face.
She looked pathetic—just how Zack liked his victims.
"Oh, the look on your face is terrific! Gimme more of it!" Zack screeched, kneeling over them. "Lose all hope.! Squirm, struggle, writhe in despair!"
"Don't hurt us please!" The child screamed, tears spilling from it's eyes.
"Nobody's gonna help ya, brat! Yer gonna die!" Zack laughed in it's face, pinning his knife against it's small throat. The child began to cry harder, choking on it's sobs.
"Please, no…" The mother cried. Weakly grasping Zack's arm. He turned his attention towards her, and grinned.
"I'll give ya a choice, lady…" The killer giggled. "Decide, who's gonna get stabbed first..?" The mother choked on a sob, and shut her eyes tight, grasping her child's hand.
"No..! Please don't make me do that—please just kill me, don't hurt my baby!" She cried.
"Sorry, 'fraid I can't do that. Don't wanna. I don't let my victims get away from me.." Isaac muttered. "So, ya wanna watch yer kid die, or do ya want it to watch you die..?"
"I don't wanna die, mommy..!" The little brat choked.
"No, p-please don't do this…" the woman cried.
"Y'know, I really enjoy seein' ya mope like that, but I'm also gettin' impatient. I'm givin' ya a choice, so jus' take it—or ya won't get one!"
The woman merely began to sob harder, along with the little brat, and their cries echoed throughout the dank alley. Seeing that she would not make a decision, Zack stuck his knife in the mother's neck, leaving the child to witness the death of it's mother.
It screamed and shut it's eyes tight, face turning red. Zack began to laugh again, taking pleasure in the despair ridden face of the child.
"How does it feel? To watch your mommy die?!" Isaac asked, spitting in the child's face. It answered with harsher cries, burying it's face in it's dead mother's shoulder.
The killer ripped the knife out of the woman's neck, then thrust it into the child's skull without hesitation, easily cracking it's skull.
Her father's body sure was heavy.
Rachel had hooked her arms under his armpits and begun to drag him downstairs. She knew that he had to be fixed, but first she decided he should apologize to her mother for stabbing her. Dragging him proved to be extremely difficult, though.
His weight most likely exceeded one-hundred and eighty pounds, and Rachel was a mere, scrawny thirteen year old. However, her dedication to move him downstairs gave her the strength she needed to prevail. Eventually, she had hauled her father all the way down the stairs and into the living room.
With great effort—and a lot of heaving, Rachel pushed her father onto the couch and sat him there, falling back beside him.
"Whew, you're sure heavy, father!" She cried, panting. "Here—you wait here while I grab mother. Then I'll fix the both of you."
Rachel quickly regained her stamina, and skipped into the kitchen.
Her mother lay there stilly, her blood pooled around her, staining her clothes red. Slowly, Rachel approached her, studying her form.
"Hi, mom," She greeted quietly, looking into her still opened eyes. "Father sure did quite the number on you, huh? You don't really look like my mom anymore… You're so… pitiful." Rachel mused, looking under her mother's soiled clothes at her stab wounds. "Don't worry, though, I'll fix you up. You'll… you'll finally be a happy, wonderful mother… my perfect mother."
Like her father, Rachel hooked her thin arms under her mother's armpits, and begun to drag her to the living room. Thankfully, she was a lot lighter than father. It was less of a struggle hauling her around. Rachel noticed that her mother was leaving a pool of blood behind her, and she became annoyed.
"Mom, you're leaving a mess behind you…" The girl complained.
Finally, after more strenuous effort, Rachel had hauled her mother up onto the couch with her father. Rachel, quite exerted, decided to fall back onto the couch in-between them. She felt their bodies lean on hers, and her heart begun to beat excitedly.
They were… snuggling.
Their bodies were still warm—albeit a little wet, but Rachel gathered their hands in hers, taking pleasure from their closeness. Tentatively, she leaned her head on her father's shoulder, then switched to her mother's.
"Mom, Dad," she begun, tears forming in her eyes. "I'm so happy that we can do this…" Rachel sat there in-between her parents a little while longer, basking in their warmth.
Eventually, she could feel their bodies cool a little, and she decided to retrieve her sewing kit to fix them. Rachel ran up the stairs, a wide grin on her face. Beside the box holding her puppy, she spotted her sewing kit. She knelt down before the kit, scooping it in her arms.
"Oh, my puppy!" She exclaimed, peeking into the box. "Would you like to come with me and meet my mom and dad?"
Gingerly, she took the box in her other arm, travelling downstairs.
"Hey mom, dad, I'd like for you to meet my puppy!" She exclaimed, shoving the box on the laps of her parents. "Isn't he cute?" Rachel asked, plopping down on the ground before them and readying her needle.
"I found him in an alleyway earlier. I wanted to ask your permission earlier, but neither of you would listen to me..!" Rachel murmered. "Well, at least you'll listen to me now… Can we keep him, then..?"
The girl looked up expectingly at her parents, awaiting their answer. A few seconds passed, then her eyes lit up.
"Yay! I promise that I'll take good care of him!" Rachel sang out. "Now, I should fix you… but who first..? Mom, maybe?"
The girl surveyed her two parents, and her mother definitely looked worse for wear. She had sustained a lot of stab wounds… evidence of how much her father had despised her. Well, Rachel was going to fix that. She decided then that her mother would be the first to be fixed.
"Alright, mom, you should probably take off your blouse now, so I can stitch up your wounds." Rachel ordered, before pausing a moment. "Oh, you must be feeling quite sore… Here—I'll help you take it off."
Gingerly, Rachel unbuttoned her mother's bloodied blouse, then opened it to reveal the gashes on her abdomen. Rachel counted around twenty-eight stab wounds on her body. She frowned to herself before picking up her readied needle, and getting to work.
With skill, the girl closed the gashes on her mother's stomach. Her little fingers explored each wound gently, feeling her mother's lukewarm blood within. With each wound she closed came a sense of joy, a sense of her mother becoming hers. It toke a while, but Rachel was finally finished fixing her.
"There you go, mother, I fixed it. Just as if father had never hurt you." The little girl chirped, studying her work. "There still is an awful lot of blood, though… Let me grab some wash clothes to clean you up."
Rachel ran to the kitchen, wetting sevral washcloths with soap and water, then grabbed some dry as well. She returned to the couch in the living room with a smile on her face. "Here, mother, the washcloths are nice and warm… soon you'll be all clean..!" She washed the blood off with a smile on her face, happy to be fixing her mother.
"There..!" She exclaimed, wiping off the last remnants of the blood. "You're not perfect yet, but I have to start fixing father now, or else he may feel left out."
Surveying her father, Rachel found that he was a lot less messy than her mother.
He only sustained four gunshots to his abdomen compared to her mother's twenty-eight stab wounds, so he was a little less bloody. But, the problem here would be fishing out the bullets. Rachel certainly couldn't leave them in there, but retrieving them might prove difficult.
The girl pondered over how she was going to go about fixing her father, when an idea struck her.
She hastily ran to her parent's room, searching for her mother's makeup bag. It was sitting on their dresser, already opened. The girl stuck her hands inside, searching for the tweezers. A long time ago, she had witnessed her mother in the bathroom using them to pluck out hairs on her skin. Rachel surmised that they would be perfect for fishing out the bullets within her father, too.
Rachel ran back downstairs to her father.
"Alright, dad, I'm going to get those nasty bullets out of you." Rachel begun to lift his t-shirt up, looking for his bullet holes. The first one was right above his belly button. Tentatively, she grabbed her longest needle and began to probe inside of the bullet hole, feeling for any hard surface. Blood began to pour out of the wound once more, as she opened the wound a little. She could feel the warmth of the blood bask her fingers, and run down her arm.
Finally, she felt something hard, not too deep within her fathers stomach. With one hand, she held the needle there while grasping for the tweezers with the other. Rachel stuck the tweezers in the bullet hole, and poked around for the bullet before struggling to get a hold on it.
Several times, she would get a somewhat good grip on the bullet, but then as she pulled the tweezers back, it would slip out of it.
It was an ordeal, but eventually she got the bullet out of her father's stomach, and she discarded it on the ground.
"Whew, one down, two more to go!" Rachel exclaimed.
The other two weren't any easier to fish out, but she had managed. Rachel noticed her hands and forearms were absolutely coated in blood, and it had begun to dry and feel sticky.
"Ew." She groaned. "Okay, father, time to close your bullet holes." Rachel announced casually.
The young girl easily closed the gaping holes. Then begun to clean his chest by wiping away all of the blood. Finally, her father was almost fixed, too. Rachel begun to feel a little tired, and decided she would take a break and grab a glass of water in the kitchen.
"Would you two like anything..?" She asked her parents.
They didn't answer, so Rachel assumed they were satisfied. She walked to the kitchen alone,and begun to wash her hands and arms of the blood that coated them.
The whole dining set was demolished—save for one chair.
Wow, they had one heck of a fight… Rachel mused.
Once she had tamed her shallow breaths, the girl returned to her parents once again. The living room had gotten even darker as the sun finally set, and it become hard to see.
I'll have to light some candles… since the power's off again…. There, that's better.
Rachel walked back up to her parents. She noticed how they looked… sullen, perhaps a little tired. Her mother's eyes had begun to cloud a little, and the bags underneath her eyes had darkened. Her father looked pretty bad, too. His eyes were also clouded a bit, and both of them sported frowns.
"It'd be nice if you two could smile… Hey—I can help you with that." Rachel piped up. "I can sew your mouths so that you'll be smiling..!" She excitedly grasped for another needle, not wanting to use the bloodied ones.
Rachel wanted their smiles to look as natural as possible, so she threaded her needle with the most natural-looking thread to match their skin colour. She sat herself between them on the couch, and begun to poke and prod at her mother's mouth, attempting to form a smile.
"Gosh, this is going to be rather hard," Rachel muttered to herself.
With one finger, Rachel held up her mother's lips so that they curved upwards, then stuck her needle through the corner of her lips and stitched it through her cheek. Thin beads of blood spurt out of the punctures from her needle, dribbling down her chin.
It sort of worked. The left side of her mother's mouth was held up by the few stitches, forming a small curve. Rachel repeated the same process on the right side of her mother's lips, then did the same to her father.
"Wow, you both look so happy when you smile…" Rachel mused, gazing at her parents. "Hm… What shall I do next..?"
She wiped the blood off of her parent's mouths and chins, then sat beside both of them. Rachel toke notice of the box near her feet, and lifted her puppy out of it, settling it on her lap.
"You're both perfect, now." Rachel said, lovingly gazing at her parents. "My perfect parents…" She grabbed their arms and wrapped herself within them, getting comfortable.
Eventually, the girl drifted off to sleep in her dead parent's arms, cradling her patchwork-puppy.