asylum [kai parker] editing/rewriting

Prologue

edited 02262017

Malachai roamed the hallways of his house, blood coating his shoes. The white converse were nowhere near white by that time and they made an annoying squeaking noise as he walked. After closer inspection, one could see the dark liquid dripping from the soles. He called out for his siblings as he dragged the wooden bat against the floorboards.

That was the night Malachai Parker, better known as Kai, killed his whole family. Since then he had been locked in his version of hell, his purgatory.

Years earlier, Simone, a young and innocent child, walked the hallways of her own house. She was four at the time. As opposed to the person mentioned previously, the girl lacked shoes and there was no trace of gore.

"Simone," The mother called out, "I will be up if either of you need me."

Simone looked up as her parent headed upstairs without more of a goodbye. At the time, Simone was not aware that the woman had been searching for her liquor cabinet. After Simone's father's death, her mother cradled an alcoholic beverage more than she cradled her own children.

Simone and her brother continued to sit and play. Eventually Simone's much younger brother headed to his room. Evan was three years old and could barely make it up the stairs, but he managed to go up to his room and rest his head on his pillow all by himself; it was something both of them had to learn on their own.

The young child had not once touched that small box she was forbidden to make contact with. It sat in the living room on the fireplace. It was the same box her mother would grab when her lighter quit and she was in need of a regular cigarette.

Simone picked up one thin match from the box and held it between her fingers. It twirled effortlessly. Then, she swiped the red against the course side and watched as the end of the match was engulfed in flames. The heat soon burned at her usually clumsy fingers, causing the object to fall.

Fire is dangerous, and once it's started it won't stop. She learned this the hard way at age four.

Simone stepped on the match but it burned the carpet. However, it did not stop at the carpet. Instead, it grew and developed on the spilled liquor and remaining debris on the floor. Flames corrupted the box of matches, blackening them and growing immensely. The downstairs liquor cabinet was the next to be reaped from the household, followed by the stack of newspapers Simone had been trying to understand. 

What had she done?

She scrambled to the window and fumbled to open the child proof clasps. Luckily, the flames had not yet touched the outer corners of the living room. No, these flames did not dance around at her feet, and instead she was almost unaffected. The four year old was fine, but her heart rate was panicked and rapid. The fire had barely even began, but she didn't see it that way.

The last thing Simone remembered of that night was the flash of blue and red lights and the tears in her eyes.

Who would want a kid who abandoned and potentially killed their own family?