Product Of A Murderer

Chapter One- Odd Feelings, Hatred?

“Get the fuck away from me!” he yelled only making me chuckle; no one can hear you idiot, give up, no one will save you. I grab the scalpel and begin my task; starting from the little area between his collarbones I make the first incision, his blood curdling screams only making this harder for me. Why the fuck couldn’t they stay quiet for once? Another scream to add to the ones I already hear in my head, the ones that haunt my existence. He wont stop screaming and I start to think that maybe this is the one that’s going to get us caught but just as I start to pussy out my father walks in instantly calming my nerves.

“Austin, you really have to keep him quiet I could hear him from upstairs; of course it wasn’t loud but I still heard it.” He chuckled going around the table where the boys’ head is. “You’ve just gotta,” he grabs the boys face only making him try and fight even harder. “Put them out of their misery.” And with that he snaps his neck finally silencing the boy.

“Hurry up and cut his heart out I want to get a taste before we pack.” He said. This is the last kill we make before we move to California; I really dread doing this really I do but I cant just stop, my father will get rid of me if I do that and id rather stay cutting up people than doing anything else, as fucked up as that sounds. Its really sick but when I first saw the life leave that woman something inside me changed; maybe my brain doesn’t work right. I just cant get enough of that smell; the smell of fresh blood. I am not entirely fucked up like my father because he likes to taste, he says he enjoys the taste of human.

-

The fresh air hits me like a train as I step out of the car and into my new ‘home’. The California sun tickles my skin making me uncomfortable under its powerful rays. I have to live hear for the next few months until we have to move again. The house is fairly decent, two stories with a few rooms and most likely a sound proof basement; dad always uses the same excuse with the realtors, he doesn’t want to disturb his neighbors with his ‘surround sound media room’ or whatever he calls it. He throws an arm around me making me shudder; I hate that he touches me with those filthy hands, in dirtying his hands he has dirtied mine as well.

“I’ll go unpack my bags.” I say and he finally releases, I let out a sigh of relief. I am free… for now I am free until he sends me out there and makes me hurt more people. In a way I fear him, I am afraid of the things he is capable of and I am afraid that if make the wrong move he will end me.

I wander around the house aimlessly getting used to the fact that soon I will entertain guest here, I will abduct people here, I will kill people here. My thoughts are brought to an end when I hear a noise, at first it scares the monsters out of me but as I regain my composure I realize that it’s a guitar. I’m standing in the middle of my new room and as I’m slowly making my way over to the window I’m praying that my father doesn’t hear what I’m hearing. I peer out slowly and then I see a red headed boy playing his guitar, his face contorted to one of concentration and I swear that I have never had a feeling like this before. What is that feeling? Like anxiousness, it’s making me feel ill and I do not like this. That boy will be my next target, for making me feel this way he will die a terrible death. I walk away from the window finally breaking from my trance; why that boy held my attention, I would never know, but what bothered me more was that I wasn’t the only one with my eyes set on him because as I’m returning from my place by the window I see my father making his way towards him. He gets his attention and they talk briefly before the boy flees inside, getting his mother probably so my father can introduce himself to the neighbors. I run as fast as I can down the stairs so I can maybe see what exactly it is that my father is playing at because he doesn’t usually do this. My father is talking to the boys’ mother and she’s laughing like a fool, completely angering me; my father is not charming so don’t do that with your face.

By running out here I don’t realize that now I have to introduce myself and I’m completely unprepared, its too early, I haven’t rehearsed. The boy looks at me expectantly waiting for me to speak, I barely choked out a hello; being completely exposed under this pretty boys’ stare. He looks up at me with a small smile not realizing that he is making me extremely nervous, he parts his lips and my heart skips a beat… what is happening to me?

“Hi, I’m Alan. Nice to meet you.”