This is a Halloween special :D
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Blood.
Blood everywhere.
Three devastated little girls bawl in the arms of their stunned aunt. Policemen flood the house, taking note of all the evidence of the happenings of the cruel brawl--a broken lamp, its almost completely severed electrical cable, and bloody scissors. Sirens blaze in the background, both from police cars and ambulances. A body, wrapped up in a body bag, is placed on top of a gurney and led to one of the ambulances.
And a man, his bloody hands handcuffed, watches it all from the window of a police car, his face a cold, heartless mask.
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"Clint what are you--" but Hannah didn't get to finish her sentence when his fist suddenly collided with her face.
The pain instantly spread like fire from the spot he hit her, and for a moment Hannah could do nothing but lay on the ground, stunned.
"You bitch!" he screamed before he threw himself on top of her, straddling her waist and lifting one of his fists just to bring it down again. This time when it connected with her face, a crunching sound was made, and blood began to spew from her mouth. The terrified screams of their three girls telling him to stop could be heard in the background, but none of it registered to Clint during his violent rampage--a monster had been unleashed in him, and no longer could any sane thoughts be perceived to him except the one that kept urging him to continue inflicting pain onto his helpless wife.
"You cunt!" he screamed, punching her once again with all his strength.
He continued hitting her--over and over, until her face was nearly completely swollen and covered in blood. At first she'd tried to hit back, but with each and every punch from Clint her attempts became weaker and weaker, until all she could do was lie there and take it. The only way Clint even knew she was still conscious and aware of the situation were her teary green eyes, desperate and pleading, as they bore into his. Some part of him was saddened by this, and upon realizing this, it only made Clint angrier. He stopped punching her then--it wasn't enough.
Pain, that was it. More pain.
So he moved his hands to her throat, also covered in blood, and began to squeeze, feeling the muscles constrict underneath his bloody hands as he did so. A gasp followed by several croaks were let out of Hannah's mouth and once again she tried to fight him back, flailing her already weak arms and legs in a desperate attempt to get him off of her. When he felt something else--little hands--hitting his back, he became aware that it wasn't just Hannah trying to fight him now. Turning his head, he saw his youngest daughter, Annabelle behind him, her face wet with tears and transformed into one of fury, as she tried with all her might to hurt her father.
"Daddy stop it! Get off of Mommy right now! You're hurting her!" she yelled bravely as she continued to hit him, but Clint's hold on his wife's throat had not loosened in the slightest.
"ANNABELLE MACKENZIE, THAT IS NO WAY TO TREAT YOUR FATHER! YOU STOP THAT NOW!"
"NO!" she screamed defiantly, "STOP HURTING MOMMY!"
Clint snarled but said nothing in response and turned his attention back to his wife, who again, was growing weaker in her attempts to stop fighting. He squeezed his hands harder. Hannah's eyes now looked like they were close to bulging out of her sockets, her face was turning blue. Ahh, yes, this was it. She was close. Clint's lips slowly lifted into a wicked grin as he saw the life slowly drain from her face.
