Death's Bitter Embrace (#Wattys2015)

Chapter III: Flashbacks

I had an insatiable craving to take revenge upon the "thing" that I had once called a father, the "thing" that took everything from me, my whole life ripped from my clutches. Ten years, that's how long it took me to hunt that fucker down, that "thing" kept moving from country to country, continent to continent, it's like he knew I was coming, that I was hunting him down.

I was a wreck, like a freight train had just hit me at full pace but yet I lived just so Death could torment me with the anguish of losing my mother, my sister, and losing to the "thing."

I was full of energy, the kind of energy that fuels fires and hatred, and trust me, my fire had a lot of fuel. I couldn't catch him for the life of me-everytime I got a step closer I would crash and burn, get back up and end up 80 steps back from where I began orginanlly.

The cops were chasing me-they were a little too close for comfort, I was making mistakes I had never made before and getting tangled up in crap I didn't need when I was trying to avenge my mother and sister that I loved dearly.

I was like a starving child in the heart of South Africa, everyday I didn't catch that prick that I had called a fatheri felt like I was dying inside a little bit more. I had abandoned callling him a father since he tore apart my family by murdering my mother and sister and abandoning me, leaving me to deal with the pain and anguish of death.

I tracked the "thing" down to every single country that he had been to, I followed him to most countries when I wasn't fending off the boys in blue or playing games with my newly employed assistant Maria. Denmark, Thailand, China and Uruguay-these are just some of the countries I had persued him to, and also these were the countries that I had the worst failure at killing the "thing."

If my life was biblical I would be David and he, Goliath, but in this reality Goliath would always win over David. Oh if looks could kill I would have died ten times over, every country he went to, he was waiting for someone with a cynical smile, he was waiting for me. He always shot me the same look, the look he gave me on the night he took my whole life away with two bullets, the same look he gave me when I was cradling my mother and sister's dead bodies in my arms, the look of disgust and hatred.

At the time I had a tomahawk, and it felt great, it felt more than great, but it was no competition when compared to Raven.

I live by the saying-only fools strike first without thinking, and, only fools will inevitably lose their fights, I was a fool everytime I fought him up until I killed him.

I remember my mother's and sister's deaths in crystal clear detail that I could still feel the pain of losing them over and over and over again, I coukd feel the heartbreak and heartache of seeing them get shot-seeing that prick run off into the night killing all that got in his way, that was the worst thing that could have happened, because, I knew he lived.

I felt like I avenged my mother and sister but yet I felt pain, why did I feel pain? I felt like I appeased my mother and sister but I still had the hole in my chest they created when he took them from my life, I felt like the hole would take a lifetime to close up even with Maria and Raven. I am thrown back into consciousness as I remember the pain.

"Recollect this familiar scene?" I devour the sound as I awake from the harsh elements that I had experienced, I have had far worse slumbers but this was one of the most uncomfortable. My eyes flood with light as I disrupt my eyes from the black.

"Huh what's that? More importantly who's that?" I say still three quarters asleep.

"It's .................. And I said do you recollect this familiar scene."

"The name sounds strikingly familiar but I can't put a face to the name because I have trounced tens of thousands of people" I think whilst trying to remember the face. I try to move but I am strapped down to a stretcher, the stretcher creaks like a floorboard being trod on slowly and painfully.

I see the figure standing there hovering its 12 inch nails above my stomach, as it goes to strike it stops and admires them as if the figure was teasing itself, it plunges them into my stomach, I boom out a sharp cry of pain, real pain, true pain. The figure doesn't give me a breather it just plunges its nails in the gap between my arm and my chest, swiftly cutting of my right arm with its serated nails. I scream out in immense agony and suffering.

"Curiosity will be your lethal demise Toby" in a warning tone. Now drifting in and out of consciousness, I am seducing Death's embrace and succumbing to unbearable torment-the pain envelops my body until descend into the abyss.