Blood In The Shadows

Chapter 1-

The sight of her mangled body laid on the streets of Santa Monica. Her wrist cut, her neck slashed in several places and her body laying in such a degrading manner to her. Her body dumped in the streets as if she was an animal, no thought or care. Her body dumped like she was trash needing put out. The innocence remained on her face even past death. Young you could see by the smooth skin presented on her face. Her make up so light that you could tell she had only just started wearing it. Her clothes although ripped up and torn in many different ways showing her age. But no one wanted to talk about how young she was they only wanted to speak of her death. How she died and who killed her. They questioned everything about her from her clothes to where she was going. To if she did something to deserve such a cruel death. 

I take my eyes off the tv no longer being able to bare the sight of the scene. I can't help but see the similarities. Am i a fool to think that one day this could be me? My eyes fall heavy on my face as the tiredness kicks in. If only i could close my eyes and sleep but the fear in me tells me no. Because when you are asleep you are at your most vulnerable and to be at my most vulnerable is to be at my weakest. She would see pride in this, joy to see me so deflated. My mind turning irrational with each day that passes but when The Boss leaves the home i fear of  the terror she may put me through. How can a child fear their own mother so much to avoid sleep at all costs. "Mother" she claims her self to be but no Mother treats people this way.

The Doctors think of me crazy to not want to sleep but they don't understand the reason. They do not wish to know why i do not want to sleep and instead give me sedatives. My "Mother" takes pleasure in this most, injecting me with all kinds of drugs to get me to sleep. She is a professional at this by now. Even when i would pretend to sleep she would inject me anyway. Perhaps i hope that it would kill me but it never came that far, much to her dismay. 

She comes and goes so often in our lives but when she is near my sickness becomes stronger. As if my body knows she is toxic i need to get rid of but the toxic remains no matter how many times i flush it away. No matter what she does to me it's like an abusive relationship she comes home and showers us with gifts. I never accept them but she still forces the in my room as if all is forgotten. But how can you forget the pain one inflicts on you. 

I zip up my black high knee boots and pull myself off the bed. I lean over and grab my black coat before heading out the cold concrete room. I pull the coat over onto my body as i stumble my way through the halls. As i walk i reach my arm out trying to grip onto anything i can take a hold off to keep  my body up on my two feet but with every step i can feel my legs giving way under me like they don't want to co-operate anymore. Like my body has had enough and is telling me it's time to go to sleep but i can't sleep. I open the door at the far end of the hall where a group of my "Brothers and Sisters" are gathered together. 

They turn their heads to look at me and i can see by the look presented on their faces that they have been waiting for me. "Come child"  Father Francis calls on me as he reaches his hand out to me. Father Francis was long praised in the streets of the town for all the good he has done for the people but none of the truly see the wicked man that he really is. They do not see the blood that he washes from his hands or the lives he has sacrificed in order to find the "pure ones". The children who are full of innocence who have not being influenced by the devil himself. But only for him to corrupt the for himself. God's disciple they call him but me i have other words for him. 

I swallow my saliva down my throat and make stance beside Father Francis, as i stand next to him he speaks aloud of our nights plans. He rests his hand on my lower back as the tips of his fingers touch the tip of bottom. I contain my breathing and posture to not make my disturbance and un-comfortability known to the group or god forbid what might happen to me. "You have been chosen for tonight's mission" but as the words escape from his lips i don't need to watch who his eyes are pressed upon because the dread inside of me knew. Tonight was my night and if i dared do it wrong, my head would be on the line. He continues to caress the bottom of my back as if in his sick mind it brings me comfort. 

"For those of you chosen for tonight's mission, Mother will be with you. She has specifically requested her presence so i suggest you do it right the first time because for you four there won't be a second chance" Father Francis announces.  

"My presence is not to be feared young ones but to be honoured. To have me by your side should be seen in such a way. My talents and skills could be useful to you. I could teach you what you need to know and more but only if i believe you of deserving. To succeed in tonight's mission you will need great courage, a strong stomach and one hell of a fake persona." Mother announces as she walks in the back entrance of the room.  Shivers are instantly send down my spine at the sound of her voice and quickly everyone in the room is stood straighter and their heads higher raised. It would remind you of if a noble king had entered the room. Of course this only put her higher up on that pedestal she had placed herself upon. I for one look forward to the day she is knocked off it. Any day now would be pretty good. 

Father Francis takes his hand off of me as she walks further into the room. He did not fear many things in life and he most certainly did not fear her. The pair were each other's most trusted ally. They both gain the upmost pleasure from the screams of those they hurt. Their purifying process as they experiment on the children through the night would haunt a persons dream... But these people aren't normal. They're part of The Organisation where they demand control over their subjects. We the children who were stolen from our beds, streets and stores from a young age were taken to The Home. 

The Home.... i say with fear and dread as the memories plague me with every shrieking breath. Where they stripped us of our identity, controlled us, beat us. Raised us so we would submit to their ever lasting wishes. To be allowed to speak is a blessing but to speak you must be careful of the words you say. Once stripped of everything we were and branded into the people they want us to be and upon the right age we attend Boarding School For The Orphans. Orphans was a word we familiar with, reminded our families didn't love us, didn't want us because after all if they did they would have came and got us. The school almost as retched as The Home but least when there we are provided with three guaranteed meals a day. But on the weekends we face our biggest challenge...The Church. Here the most foulest of people/ creatures show their faces in the home of God.