Pure Ones || H.S

16

Mr. Arlene got home in a grubby state, reaching home right before dinner. He took off his worn up shoes along with his socks before going inside. He walked past his living room that was clean and neat. His home wasn't the fanciest. It was simply just a home he had never thought more of.

He reached the kitchen where his wife was still cooking. "Where's Belle?" he asked, without a greet.

She hesitated before answering, "I don't know".

He scoffed. "Have you been watching our daughter?"

Ellie stayed quiet, not knowing what to reply. She just stirred the mushroom soup in front of her, her feeling uneasy. Her breathing started to be rapid.

She felt her arms twist as he held her from the back. "I was asking a question," he hissed. Her sleeves ran down to her elbow, revealing bruise marks she had always hidden.

"I'm sorry, John. I'll try harder next time," she whimpered.

Belle had no knowledge on her father's abusive behavior, this had been gone on for a few years behind her back. She was too oblivious in her own bubble to realize how her mother had been hurt by her own father. He had never shown his aggressive side to her since what had happened.

Despite that, Ellie stayed as a loving mother and housewife. Even though most of his abuse was because of his worries for Belle, she had never felt angry at her. She simply just wants her daughter to be loved. She was so grateful that John never showed aggression against her only child, grateful that she knew John loved her.

"You can never do anything right!" he shouted, pushing her to the ground.

Ellie came from a prestigious family. Their marriage was arranged because John was the head of an upcoming company. Their marriage was never of love. Simply put, they had never loved each other.

After his company was in ruins, John was too ashamed of his failure they had to move. Ellie could simply ask for help from her family but John was just to egoistical to accept help.

Ellie's life was ruined by him, but all she could rely on was her daughter. She had loved her like nobody could, she just wanted her daughter to grow up and have a life like she never had.

When John left her alone in the kitchen, she quickly wiped her tears clean as she composed herself. She didn't want Belle to see her in that state.

'Come back soon, my love,' she pleaded.

John walked to his backyard to his tool shed; a place he had locked safely to keep people out, it was his safe space. He opened the creaking door and grunted at the axe hanging by the wall that hadn't been cleaned.

"Fuck," he grunted as he slowly took the bloody axe down. "I forgot to clean this up," he hated washing dried up blood, they leave patches on the woodwork.

He decided he didn't want to clean it. He decided to just easily dispose of it. He could just buy a new one. He opened up a chained up box that revealed enough evidence to make him go to jail; it included Maria's shirt. He smirked, leaving the axe among his many collection.

"My Belle," he embraced himself. "Where could you be, my Belle," deep inside, he knew where she could possibly be. He laughed by himself among the many killing machine around him. "You've been with that creep for so long," he muttered as he eyed the gun on the corner of his table.

"I wonder if now's the time?" he asked himself, a satisfied smile plastered on his face.