Tap. Tap. Tap
The tapping started when my children went missing three weeks ago. I don't know if it's a coincidence or if I'm just grieving over the loss of my young ones. I can't sleep so I get out of bed and walk to my messy kitchen. I walk over to my coffee maker and put a K cup into it along with water. It pours the hot coffee into my mug, and as the aroma fills the room I step onto my balcony and feel the cold winter air hit my face as I let out a sigh. Looking down on the street, there isnt much activity besides the occasional pedestrian or lone car that drives down the street. From my room I hear a quiet phrase spoken at a near-whisper tone.
"Mommy."
Upon hearing that word being spoken I rush to my kitchen and grab a knife then make my way to my room. I open my closet and there my children sit, bound and malnourished. They are too weak to speak much but the youngest managed to speak a few words.
"Please stop hurting us." He says. I can hear the distress in his voice as he comes to the realization that death is within arms reach of them.
"You've misbehaved for the last time." I respond in a cold manner. I walk into my closet and press the blade up against the throat of the youngest and slide it across, slicing it open. I look to my left and the older child's eyes are wide open due to terror. He can't manage to make a single sound, for he is too weak to make any noise, let alone breathe. I lean over to him and carve a smiley face into his arm.
"You were a good boy. Keep being mommy's good boy and I might bring you some food tomorrow." A cold smile washes over my face as I get out of my closet and close the door behind me. The tapping finally stopped.
