Surgeon

Chapter One (Dan)

WARNING: THIS STORY IS EXTREMELY GRUESOME AT TIMES. IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO GORE, IT IS SUGGESTED THAT YOU CLICK OFF. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

I was only fourteen. It was 2014. I was up in a tree, drawing in my sketchbook, an old, rustic, leather cover sketchbook. I saw a small blue car, it looked so small only one person could fit. A tall man... or at least I thought it was a man at the time... He was wearing a fedora but I could see a hint of blond hair. He was wearing a loose t-shirt and it looked like there was a band name on it. I could not see it though. He was wearing boy shorts and long boots, and sunglasses. Big ones. A rather peculiar outfit. He walked up to the door and I watched from afar. He knocked. Six knocks to be exact. This was rather strange. It was a pattern. It went... Two knocks, pause, four knocks. I will never forget that.
I had stayed in that tree for awhile. They seemed to be talking, as I could see through the window from where I was sitting. I looked away for a moment but I looked back up when I heard what sounded like yelling. As I looked up I saw what looked like blood splattering on the window in less than a second. It looked like there was a body that got smashed against the window, but the window didn't break. It looked like the body was lifeless. I tried to keep myself from screaming and jumped down from the tree, carrying the sketchbook with me. I ran into the woods, hiding in a bush. The man exited the house, his body and clothes unrecognizable due to the huge amount of blood... though I assume the blood was anyone's but his. The man then turned, looking as calm as just any person. He reached up slowly and tipped his hat to me. I was so afraid that I felt I was going to faint. I fell to my knees, realizing what must have happened.
At some point in time I gathered the courage to enter the house. It was the most traumatizing thing I had ever experienced... My mother, she was stretched out on the floor. Her left eye was hanging out and basically crushed. Her other eye was bulging. The eyes that used to be so full of life and love were now drained of their beauty. Her intestines were spilled out all over the kitchen floor. My father, he was leaning limp against the window, his head bashed in, probably by the bat which was on the floor and had rolled under the table. I looked frantically around the kitchen for the phone and found it lying on the counter. I picked it up, hyperventilating. My hands were shaking so much I could barely press the buttons. I felt like the world around me was spinning but I was stuck in place. I was trapped. I was stuck in a cage, a prison with chains holding me down. When I got to call 911 I could barely speak and I was talking so fast the couldn't even understand at first. "PLEASESENDHELPINEEDHELPMYPARENTSTHTHTHTHEYWERETHEYHADTHEY... DEAD..." They tried to calm me down but it took time. "I- I was in a tree... The man..." Eventually they got our address from me. They pronounce my parents dead and I just froze. I did not even cry. I was just there, on my knees, staring off. My lip quivered. I looked up slowly, still processing, when I noticed a feminine figure, deep in the woods. I didn't even say anything. I didn't know how important that information could have been back then. I just stared back down, trapped in my own little cage in my mind. Sure, I may have gotten half better over time. But it has still only been about nine years since the uh... Well, the incident.