Supernatural Case Files

Damian: The lost smile

1.4.2
Chapter 5

'Mom, dad...
What are these tiny insects?.
Shall I kill them off? But instead, I will be similar to that old man so I can't stop them from feeding on you.
Just say me one thing momma who will protect me from this huge world and probably right within that monster's cage when you can't help yourself for being a meal.'

These particular words pierced me down even deeper than the sickle that plucked their lives away.

Always enduring harsh new scars, tortured in newer ways than before the house felt like a torture asylum without Betty alive.

The 5-year child spent seamless nights till I completely exhausted my voice for him to sleep.

Damian remained a gentle and considerate child, the child who never waits for his grandma to get any further tired.

Too young to bear bruises covering every inch of his skin, a tormented soul, a poorly homeschooled child.

No friends;
No parents;
Only tears covered for his burning bruises, while maggots continued to feast on his parents' flesh.

'Tell me grandma why do those heartless worms keep eating away my mom and dad.

Why won't they stop and leave my parents for me.' During this conversation, this was the last time I felt his presence while he was still sobbing. Wish I didn't make him quietly go to sleep.

It was early in the morning fast forward to more few days.

Most of the walls, the floor splashed with randomly stained droplets of the child's blood. Wherever my gaze wandered my eyes only landed on the drops.

It was supposed to be his happy day

His 6th birthday.

His torn outfit revealed countless scars and open wounds.

Gartord killed the child,
In the most heinous way possible.
The torment,
The screams that had mingled around my ears in the dead silence of the night.
The day caught me a perfect calm and a scarring sight of Damian's cold hanging head while his body was still fastened against the iron nailed chair.

Right in front of my eyes, my grandson sat coldly in the pool of his blood and my tears could no longer wait for a reason to flow silently and freely.

Gartord is still free with 3 counts of murder.

The fear of what he performed with his family haunted him at the later stages of his life. He started being crazy running to the swamp now and then, trying to dump those 3 mummified bodies but never succeeded. I never made him succeed in erasing the bodies away from my life, every time he argued with me about burying or letting go of those bodies my brave and already altered personality stayed strong ahead to guard those dead remains. Too late for this old strength and courage that remained dormant when needed the most.

'What will these crazy bodies bring you?' Asked he,

'My life!' I replied while still holding into the cold firm expression.

On a dread silent night, when the wood mansion was quiet with dread silent and dimmed downlight. I, as his grandmother alive, had no choice of action but to work on my thoughts and desires. The night after that day, I secretly carried out my actions. I allowed myself to walk to the furthest library with the intent of having Damian sitting right next to me. The life devoid of Damian's voice has altered me crazy enough to have the thoughts of bringing the dead back to life. Entangled with my selfishness of bringing my grandson back to life, I regularly visited that library to learn that particular concept ritual that helped me trap the soul in a lively realm. Never imagined a situation might turn a life completely downside.

This particular ritual required the individual's corpse to have a severed head and a separate body. While resting the neatly dressed rotting flesh of my grandson. This particular act required scenting the foul odour off with the pleasant perfume aroma. Pentagon was the must. I had drawn the pentagon using the hen's bone ashes that I have separated from our dinner. The pentagon had to be brightened from the sides. On the 5 ends of the pentagon stars, there I had supported a few candles on the basis of some burned, enlighted ash.

Aromatic oils spreading out rose fragments filled up my copper chalice that had a tiny rose scented candle burning brightly while spreading all the exotic rose scent around. The last candle was placed on the mummified corpse's head, while the oil was smeared all around the mummified flesh. The goal was this candle would blow itself with the appearance of Damian. Chanting the rituals with the most concentration. My heavy heart was put to rest and a smile spread across my exhausted face when I heard his voice again.

'Grandma, what made you call me back!
Say me, grandma, why do I feel this lighter.
What form have I acquired to exist?'

From his appearance, my life has returned to being wonderful whereas all the wonders from Gartord's life have been put away to thin away.

Gartord's calm days turned to sleepless nights. Damian's recurring voice had Gartord's peace taken away in a snap of time. The recitation of the child's voice asking for his parents and waking up with silent unknown scars exactly like what he did to the little boy's skin. Gartord finely suffered the sufferings he once put upon his little innocent grandson.

Gartord's sufferings were at his peak since the revival of Damian's spirit. Gartord received all the bruises and scars that he left on the child's body. Every day Gartord became even more horrified of his scarier fate than a day Gartord decided to suicide drown himself in the mangrove swamp. Gartord's death was nothing but a huge accomplishment on my behalf that I decided to preserve his body with all the other dead victims of his.

Edwin always reminded me of the future of my son Damian, he shared with me his loneliness of leaving behind his family, the citings of Damian, that troubled him the most. I faked almost every detail of my life to him, gaining his interest till his identity completely vanished from my life.

Death of Edwin swarmed many curious flies around my property and one of my other companion and Damian's victim almost belonged from that curious swarm.

Frank Denim was a curious document writer who only wanted to be benefited by me with his document on Edwin Claire. Being an investigator himself, I could feel Frank could already see through my denser fake statements. I eventually had to take huge risks to drug him anyhow.
***

Lucky was the drowned investigator whom I was forced to save and unlucky were those girls whom I had to drug including that carrying mother. Zareena was no exception to the drugs, I was also caught in the effects of my old age.

Even though my aged body was likely to wither any moment. My eagerness to hear my grandson's voice drove me crazy while knowing exactly how Damian had to prey on humans like Edwin, Frank, Monty being his most recent victim till I rush for help. I would be ready to lose anything just to gain his voice in my live ears.

Frank's green eyes always reminded me of Damian, whereas Zakura's green eyes always reminded me of Betty.

Even though Zakura wordlessly served me a lot, I would rather choose my silent death over any minor troubles in her life due to my selfish intent.'
~~~