Malachai Parker wasn't the only person to massacre his family. Along with him was Isabelle Martin, a witch who held his hand along the way, letting him siphon painlessly.
You could say she was as crazy as he. Unable to see the destruction he truly...
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Then
"Day thirteen in our personal hell, with no. Way. Out" I emphasised as I skipped down the stairs. That's where I found Mal cooking some pancakes.
"Hey! Look what I found!" I exclaimed, pointing the fuzzy image at the boy before me. His back was the only view I possessed, until he turned around.
"Put that' away, you know I don't like pictures" Malachai said as he pointed the spatula in my direction.
"It's not a camera, it's a recorder you idiot. And I need something to do, it's so boring!" I moaned with my words growing louder as I walked into the living room. Where I ultimately collapsed onto the couch.
Soon enough, he came back with two plates of chocolate chip pancakes.
"Again? You know you're a terrible cook" I sighed, reluctantly taking up a fork as Mal sat beside me. His head rested on my shoulder after I placed the cam-corder on the coffee table, facing it toward us.
"You're gonna film us while we eat, that's just weird" he announced.
"Shut up Mal, what if someone's watching?",
"I seriously doubt it Belle" Malachai counteracted before filling his mouth with the pastry.
"You know I don't like you calling me that",
"You know I don't like you calling me Mal. Like, who names a kid Malachai?" he chuckled as I shook my head.
"Well I love the name Malachai. Because it's yours, it's so beautiful and-",
"Okay okay, just be quiet and eat your pancakes" Mal ordered before slamming the cam-corder shut and turning it off.
