Cold Blood

❥ Chapter One ❥

Written by ChemicalWonderland

Everett's POV

The old wooden floors creak loudly beneath my feet, like high-pitched screams erupting from the ground in a song. The walls around me are covered in an obnoxious floral pattern, swimming before my eyes in an explosion of color. Glistening sunlight filters in through large windows all around the house, making the air warm and stuffy.

My breaths are heavy and labored, filling the near dead silence. Beads of sweat form on my forehead, and I wipe them away with the back of my hand. My heart feels as though it is pounding out of my chest, loud and quick. Blood rushes through my veins. Anxiety claws away at my stomach. My head feels numb. My legs feel like they're made out of lead, and they move as if on their own accord.

I register my hand reaching over to turn on an old radio beside me before I feel myself doing it. An old fifties song suddenly streams from it, a cheery tune that I resist the urge to hum along to. The music fills every part of my being, returning the feeling to my legs as I propel myself forward.

Holding an axe in my hand, I run my fingers over the familiar handle, feeling the coarse wood against my clammy skin. The blade itself glints brightly in the sunlight, a serrated, shimmering weapon. I begin to drag it against the floor, watching as it scrapes the ground. I relish in the sound it creates, like a deep, desperate cry filling the entire house. I close my eyes briefly, calming my nerves and trying to contain my excitement.

As I approach the room where my victims are, the music in the background seems to fade away completely, and my focus is entirely on them. A woman with her medium brown hair tied back in a tight bun, dressed as though she's from another time period. Her eyes are welled with tears, like an icy blue rain is in her irises. She trembles and clutches onto the couch arm of the couch she sits on. A man sits beside her, with a wrinkled face and silvery hair. His eyes are deep angry pits. And a teenage girl with long brown locks cowering behind her parents, with eyes just like her mother's.

"Well what a happy family," I say, my voice booming against the four walls of the living room. The same annoying wallpaper is around me, and dusty, torn furniture decorates the room. A wooden cross hangs on the wall above the couch.

The family says nothing, watching me with scared expressions. I roll my eyes at them, at their powerlessness.

"Curt are we? Let's get this over with then."

All the rage and sorrow and happiness- all the emotions in my body- are released in one quick motion as I swing at the mother with my axe. The action is rapid, but time seems to slow as the seconds to her death tick away.

A deafening crack fills the air, the impact sinking into her skull. Her eyes become dull and glassy as she collapses against the couch, a still, lifeless figure. Warmth enters my body at the sight of her, pools of blood spilling down from her head wound and onto her pastel colored clothes. I pull the axe back out, stifling a laugh that escapes my mouth. The contents of her brain and the blood spray across wall behind her. It brings some color to that annoying wallpaper, I think.

I then turn to the remaining victims. The father is a mixture of emotions, crying and screaming and throwing his fists in the air, but underneath that is pure terror.

"You monster!" he screams, his voice straining.

I am not a monster.

Overcome with another burst of adrenaline and rage, I raise my axe once more and lunge for him. The force of the blow takes his head clean off, an outcome even I wasn't expecting. A mass of blood and all the other things that you would expect to come from someone you just decapitated splays over his body and the surrounding area. His head drops to the ground with a resounding thud, bright blood filling the cracks in the wooden floors. His eyes stare back at me, unblinking.

"Oops, sorry about that," I say sarcastically.

Now for the girl. She steps away from the couch, backing against the wall. Her shoulders heave as she's wracked with sobs, covering her mouth with her hand. Her eyes are wide with fear, tears like rain streaming down her cheeks.

I soften my voice, the music from the other room nearly taking over my words. "Don't be afraid."

The girl shakes her head violently, dark hair falling across her face. She can't seem to speak. Too bad.

As I come closer and closer, she begins to tremble even more than before, hands groping the wall. Eventually, she seems to find her voice.

"NO! NO! N-"

I cut her off midsentence. Throwing my weapon for her head, it makes a deadly crunch in her skull. Blue eyes like her mother's, and a death like hers too.

She's instantly silenced, slumping over and laying dead on the floor. Streams of blood and brain matter spill across the floors and the walls, like a violent masterpiece.

Now left with the music and my own breaths to comfort me, my body starts to relax. I feel my heartbeat return to normal, the sick feeling in my gut burning away. It's over.

I survey my work, the art that I have created. Almost the entire room is covered in blood and human remains, like a bleeding ocean that streams lazily down the walls. The pattering of blood dropping to the floor keeps a steady beat. The havoc from my reign of terror shows in every part of the room, a beautiful reminder. The scene is surreal, like a euphoric dream.

And on the wall remains the wooden cross, untouched by blood or anything else.

God can't save you now.