the pale and the dimpled ;; mashton

six // killer

"Dad? Dad, where's Mum? DAD!"

Michael was running; where, he did not know. All he knew was that he had an incredible knot in his stomach that seemed to be getting tighter and tighter...

He stopped. Up ahead, everything was foggy, except for one streetlight that shone above a misty figure.

"Dad?" Michael whispered, approaching cautiously. He reached out a hand to touch it and screamed when it yanked on his wrist.

"Sorry, boy, but you're mum and dad are gone."

Scream.

Michael awoke in a bed of his own sweat. It had only been a dream.

No, his conscience said, that scream wasn't.

Michael took in his surroundings again and noticed that he and his mum were not alone.

He heard her scream again as loud thumps came from the stairs. Her cries carried all through the house, begging and pleading and then-

"Shut UP!"

Smack.

Michael tiptoed down the stairs, looking around the wall. He could see him mum, still in her nightgown, a crying and bloody heap on the floor. A man, much like the one in his dream, hovered above her with a knife and... Was that a whip?!

Michael raced back upstairs as quietly as possible. He grabbed his cellphone and his old baseball bat, dialling 000 as he descended back to where a killer awaited.

"000, what is your emergency?"

Michael gulped; he would have to try extremely hard not to be heard. "There's a man inside my house, and he's torturing my mum."

"Do you have any injuries?"

"No, he doesn't k-know I'm here," He stuttered as Karen screamed again after a yank on her hair.

"Okay sir, breathe please," Michael hadn't noticed his breathing increase. "What is your address?"

"519 Riverwalk - NO."

Michael couldn't force back the yell as the killer knocked his mother unconscious. He dropped his phone, a wave of anger crashing over him.

The man turned, but no sooner Michael had brought the bat to his head. "You-" Smack. "Sick-" Smack. "Son-" Smack. "Of-" Smack. "A-" Smack. "*ITCH."

He was already on the ground, unconscious and bloodied by the time Michael said the last word. He dropped the crimson covered bat and ran to his mum.

"Mum? Mummy, please," He said, his voice cracking. He cradled her head in his arms as the sound of police sirens approached. "Mum..."

And then he wasn't holding her. He was kicking and screaming and sobbing, "MUM! No, please! MUM!" as two police officers dragged him out of the house while they attended his mother.

"Son, son look at me." Michael brought his glaze and bloodshot eyes towards the officer. "It's okay. She's going to be fine. Everything's going to be okay."

"No," Michael croaked, his throat incredibly sore. "Because it all happened on a f*cking Tuesday."

// an

I FEEL SO BAD

but this was planned from the beginning so ay should've expected it.

BUT UGH

baaaai lovelies.//