Forgotten Freedom

Two

  

Michael came back about ten minutes ago. He seemed to be happy as far as anyone in a place like this can be. I sat in my bed, staring up at the ceiling filling a void in my chest. I wanted to be free, so badly it hurt me. Spending the majority of your life locked up in a place like this is devastating. Their reasoning for putting me in here was invalid anyway. Looking back on it now thirteen years later; it just made me want to punch something, no someone, and I know just who that person was. Nathaniel Reese, the bastard who put me in here.

"Son, son wake up are you alright? " I was shook awake. Dazedly I looked around the room, confused at where I was I looked up at the man who shook me awake. "Are you alright?" He repeated himself. I hate when people repeat themselves.

I stood up and walked away from him. Sirens, red and blue lights, people demanding things from others, that's what surrounded me. I just wanted peace, and I needed to clean myself up.

"Son, I need you to stay right here with me. You can't leave this room. " The man demanded.

He's pissing me off. I continued walking ignoring his protests. I heard him get up and his footsteps following me. I ran, as fast as I could. I needed to get away.

"Get him! He's running away." The man yelled. People stopped what they were doing and watched me run. Finally coming to their senses a few ran after me. One grabbed me by the arm, the one I didn't see. I instantly stilled, afraid of what they planned to do to me. Did they know what I did?

"Son, I know you're scared, but you need to listen to me. We need to take you in. Everything will be alright." But I knew it wouldn't be. As soon as they identify my finger prints on my parents mutilated bodies, I was a goner. They took me to a police car farthest away from everything to try to calm me down. I still sat and stared at them while they loaded my mother and father onto a gurney, well what was left of them.

I remember that day so vividly. I felt and still feel no remorse for taking their life away. I smile at the memory of my mother screaming for help while I tied her up, her poor husband, my father, was sitting there already tied to a chair forced to watch his wife, the love of his life, getting her arm chopped off. She screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed until she passed out. Her head lulled to the side.

My father shook with fear of what was to come to him. That asshole that abused me and caused me so much pain will get what was coming for him. At least my mother cared for me in her on way, but she let him hurt me. She sat in the background night after night while I got hit and punched, and I could never forgive her for that.

Putting my mother's arm on the counter I walked to the other side of her limp body and held her arm out making her skin tight so it would cut easier and more efficiently. I smiled watching the skin tear and blood seep out of her body. Pulling her arm the rest of the way off I started on her face. Taking a spoon from the drawer I opened her closed eye and stuck the spoon on the corner and shoved it into the eye socket. Bending the spoon to the right her eye popped out of her head and dangled there. Taking the knife a put it to the side of her mouth and pilled it cutting her mouth upward in a half smile. I felt so happy. Mother looked so pretty. She was a piece of art. She loved art. An idea hit me like a ton of bricks.

I took the knife and cut open her shirt revealing the purple bra she was wearing. Cutting it in two her breasts fell out. I scrapped the knife in a pattern on her body leaving a thing white line. I started at the beginning this time cutting the pattern into her skin. Blood traveled down her body and I basked in the feeling that came to me.

Stepping back I looked at my work and I loved it so much.

"Father, Look isn't it lovely? " I asked him. His eyes were red, tears soaked his face and his body shook with terror. I smiled loving the night.

"Are you ready for your turn father?"

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