Chapter: Ten.
*******
"A horrific image graced the early morning's News, where the mutilated body of Roy McKenzie was found on the streets, surrounded by his own pool of blood. Investigations are still ongoing as the death of the eighteen-year-old remains a mystery to us all. The police have assured every citizen in Snowville to remain calm as they would make sure a crime like this is never committed in our peaceful community. The-"
Jameson punched the TV off as he rolled over on his bed. For days now he's been living up in his treehouse. No family coming to distract his beauty sleep and no one asking him to go to school. He was better off alone up here. He went to work, took care of certain business and went home and everything he did in such a way that no one ever noticed. They didn't care about him, they never did. So what's a psycho like him worth that any should miss him or even notice his disappearance. Knowing his family so well they would never tell anyone about him. They've been ashamed of him since the day the preacher man filled them with his abominations.
Jameson looked at the clock hanging atop his TV it reads 9:30 pm. He got up, took his hood and hang it loosely on his shoulder while he climbed down from the treehouse. The forest night owls could be heard as he made his way out of the woods, a black shoulder bag in hand.
*********
For the first time in years, Jameson stepped foot into his parent's house. He spent almost forty-five minutes standing at the door too scared to push it open. Haunting memories from the past making him sweaty. Even though he knew they couldn't hurt him. Jameson had made sure of that. Yet he felt a strong pull to crawl upon his knees and cry.
Then he felt a sudden surge of strength rush into him and he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Jameson took in the unfamiliar living room and hissed low in his throat.
He remembered how he was never allowed down there, never allowed to watch TV or play video games just like his sister did. The only time he would have a glance at the TV would be in the morning when his mother would help him down the stairs and pushing him out the front door so he'd catch the bus and go to school.
Jameson was denied everything a normal growing up boy would ever want and all for what? In the name of been possessed.
Jameson walked farther into the room and turned to his right where the dining table was and resting their heads on the round table were his Father, Mother, and Sister. Their plates of unfinished foods right in front of them.
They were all sound asleep.
Jameson remembered the last time he had eaten on that table, it was the day they had gone for that evening service and the day the old woman had told them whatever lies that pleases her to his stupid parents and the fake man of God who took pleasure in destroying his life all thanks to his so-called parents.
Jameson also remembered feeding his friends out of that table while he eats, unbeknownst to his parents.
He shook his thoughts away from the traumatic memories of the past as he had work to do.
The first thing he did was move the Sofa's to the far corner of the living room, then he took three chairs from the dining table and set them in the middle of the room.
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