'Fag!' a blonde child shouted at a bleeding child motionless on the wet floor. Rain was pouring heavily as kicks pumped the remaining air of the crying corpse on the floor. THUD! Another kick. Another load of vomit flew out of the body's mouth. There were a few laughs from the gang of vile bullies. He was only nine. Tim was only nine. His eyes were filled with tears.
'DEMON!' Another kid yelled out, 'You need God! Satan is weak!' another screamed. Tim stopped breathing, his vision went blurry. The gang ran off after one shouted "Fuck this, let's go and play on scooters". The gang was made up of 10 to 12 year olds. Vile 10 to 12 year olds. No more footsteps could be heard from anywhere. All that could be heard was the violent tapping of rain smashing down, the heavy breathing from Tim - struggling to get air into his lungs and the sound of traffic in the distance. There was complete darkness, but suddenly two bright lights got closer to Tim, was this dying? A man got out of the car and took two steps forward, leaving the black door of the car open.
'Tim, I do believe you are.' He took two more steps forward. His voice was deep and croaky. He wore a black trench coat, black jeans, black boots, black top hat (that covered his eyes), he had a crow on his shoulder and a black cane in his hand. He took another step forward. 'Here.' The man held his hand out to Tim, but Tim layed still. 'Ha. Stranger danger is a load of stupidity! I'm no paedofile. Now, I can help you.' Tim took his hand and the man helped Tim to his black car, opened the door and helped him inside. Tim's eyes were black, he had bruises all over his face.
Tim finally managed to get a word out of his damaged mouth, "How do you know me?" He asked.
'Ha! You're the son of Satan!' The man's low voice wasn't scared to come out as he turned the keys in the ignition. The car roared loudly as the words "You're the son of Satan" ringed in his head. Tim was stunned. The man drove through the rain to Tim's home.
'Please! No!' Tim screamed. The man was shocked.
'Why?' He asked, 'Why don't you want to go in? You're safe from bad people!' he exclaimed. Tim nodded and got out, slammed the car door shut and walked to his house. 'Oh, and here's your bag' the man threw Tim's school bag to him and the old man drove off and the image of the mysterious man's car dissolved into the darkness. As Tim walked in, there were Jack Daniel's whiskey bottles on the floor, empty.
'TIMMY! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!' Tim's mother growled in anger. She noticed his black eyes and punched him across the face. 'WHY ARE YOU LATE?' and 'WHAT'S HAPPENED TO YOUR EYES?!' where shot out like bullet at Tim. She kicked him and sent him to his room. He went to sleep and woke up at midnight, when his mother was passed out on the sofa. Tim stole his mother's laptop and talked to his internet friends for about an hour or two then went to sleep.
The next day, after school, the same kids attacked him until two hours after school. Thud! Thump!
Over and over, more kicks to the stomach. The man drove up as the kids were there. He brought a hand gun and fired in the air twice. 'Alright, get the fuck out of here!' he raised his voice at the gang. They ran away in fear. 'You better believe in karma!' he shouted again, then he helped Tim up and put him into his car.
'Please don't take me home' Tim screamed, 'Take me to your house! My mum hurts me!'. These words shocked the man. He turned the keys, the engine roared and they went down to the man's house. Thunder rumbled and the man parked the car behind some trees, opened the gate and took Tim into the house. It was tall and black, isolated from anyone. The moon was a bright, white full moon and shone on the house. A black cat purred next to Tim and the crow went and sat in a tree, without leaves. Eight feet high double doors creaked open.
In the corner, on a wooden stool, sat a girl with white hair and a pair of black steampunk goggles over her fringe, dressed in a black corset, a black skirt and knee high Converse. She sat up and spoke out.
"Oh, a visitor!" She seemed somewhat happy.
"Yes, this is Tim." Tim's eyes shone red in direct light. People whom have this are the children of Satan. Tim looked at the woman and man, worried. He didn't know if it was bad or good, to be the so called "Son of Satan".
"Don't be scared" the woman announced, "I'm Kathy" She held her hand out, Tim shook her hand and then she bent over to get to his height. Tim looked hard into Kathy's eyes. He wondered where the colour in her eyes had gone. There was just a pupil, this was all so very strange to a little child as you'd expect. He shuddered when he finally broke sight from Kathy's eyes and on her breasts. Kathy giggled.
"Sweetheart, my eyes are not down there!" she said with a smile and her hand over her mouth. The man was sitting behind the desk doing something strange, well, to Tim. The man pulled his sleeve up and took a knife out of a drawer, sliced his arm open and put a pen in the wound. He started writing. "Ah," Kathy was about to explain until she came to a halt realizing he's nine, he'd not understand, "Let's leave him to his buisiness and let's go talk". Kathy grabbed Tim's hand and took him further into the big house and up the dark stairs. She took Tim into another room and turned the light on. The wallpaper was black and had posters covering that. These posters confused Tim - Why were the photos of guys wearing lipstick? "So this is Marilyn Manson" She pointed to a poster of a guy wearing make up and different coloured eyes, she went over to her CD player and pressed play, "This is his new album! It's called The High End of the Low" she smiled. Tim found Marilyn Manson quite fun to listen to.
