He had just stabbed the lady of the house, and was beginning to close the door of the bedroom. This one was to be savored. His morals demanded it, and, by God, he would stick to his oath. How he happened to get into this lovely lady’s now-broken home is going to be a question many interested will ask for a very long time. What was the motive, and how entrance was gained?
Let alone entrance into her boudoir. Maybe it was all just an urban legend. Those stories getting passed around like germs in this weird mayhem we live in. One way or another, you’ve got to give the doctor much proper respect, he got in without triggering the alarm. It’s quite a bulky, well-strapped system. Would have triggered at a touch. Had it even been touched.
He wasn’t worried about that when he got in. No, what he was looking for was there, and nothing was a deterrent. However, he now dragged her twitching, slumped body to the bed. He reached out to steady himself against her weight. The sheets felt like velvet to him. He was going to use this time well. Before moving on to the children, whistling along as he would go to work.
He tossed her onto the beds’ first layer of sheets. She lay face down, and off to the side, facing away from him. His large Bowie knife jutting from her shoulder blades. He remembered it sinking in with bone-cracking strength. Piercing a rib or two, slipping into one of her lungs, he then gave it a twist, but she loved him and wanted him. A smile on his lips, and she was his now.
That’s what she was saying to him as she began to scream, but found she couldn’t do that very well. He sat there in the near dark. Staring at her silhouetted form. She was beautiful, a real dream, with her manicured face and manicured life. He wanted his knife back, and she was going to give it to him. He stood up in the darkness then. Reaching out to touch the blade.
A shit-eating grin firmly planted on his face…
The children awoken by a loud crash to the floor. The two boys just looked at each other, in the dark of a room with the door cracked open slightly, bewilderment painted on each other’s face. Something was going on beyond their reach downstairs. That’s what they read without seeing a word on each other’s face. Quickly the boy, William, jumped out of his bed. Followed soon after by, Quentin, his brother. They began to crack the door open further, to reveal the truth outside, but seeing only the silent hall.
William was the first to see anything, as they crept down the stairs together, and felt that dark things were somewhere here. There were no lights on, except for one of the porch lights outside, which he only noticed as the front door swung wide open. Quentin hit his brother’s arm, pushed him out of the room. Billy jumped in fright, without telling his brother what was going on, and both were knocked into the railing around the second floor.
The sound reverberated around the house. A strange set of echoes followed. Both of the children stood still, with wide eyes staring, at the appearance of their front door. The locks were all broken, and a chunk of the jambs’ paneling was missing from the edge, where the locks were set into the wood. No alarm, Quentin thought, and looked at his brother upset.
William was the first to react, and heard the footsteps of someone heavy-set, tramping their way towards the stairway. Quentin called out into the dark, looking for a sign of his mother, but instead heard more of the footsteps soon afterward. “That doesn’t sound like Mom,” William said, quivering slightly at that thought. Quentin was cursing himself with questions like why he had yelled.
Let alone entrance into her boudoir. Maybe it was all just an urban legend. Those stories getting passed around like germs in this weird mayhem we live in. One way or another, you’ve got to give the doctor much proper respect, he got in without triggering the alarm. It’s quite a bulky, well-strapped system. Would have triggered at a touch. Had it even been touched.
He wasn’t worried about that when he got in. No, what he was looking for was there, and nothing was a deterrent. However, he now dragged her twitching, slumped body to the bed. He reached out to steady himself against her weight. The sheets felt like velvet to him. He was going to use this time well. Before moving on to the children, whistling along as he would go to work.
He tossed her onto the beds’ first layer of sheets. She lay face down, and off to the side, facing away from him. His large Bowie knife jutting from her shoulder blades. He remembered it sinking in with bone-cracking strength. Piercing a rib or two, slipping into one of her lungs, he then gave it a twist, but she loved him and wanted him. A smile on his lips, and she was his now.
That’s what she was saying to him as she began to scream, but found she couldn’t do that very well. He sat there in the near dark. Staring at her silhouetted form. She was beautiful, a real dream, with her manicured face and manicured life. He wanted his knife back, and she was going to give it to him. He stood up in the darkness then. Reaching out to touch the blade.
A shit-eating grin firmly planted on his face…
The children awoken by a loud crash to the floor. The two boys just looked at each other, in the dark of a room with the door cracked open slightly, bewilderment painted on each other’s face. Something was going on beyond their reach downstairs. That’s what they read without seeing a word on each other’s face. Quickly the boy, William, jumped out of his bed. Followed soon after by, Quentin, his brother. They began to crack the door open further, to reveal the truth outside, but seeing only the silent hall.
William was the first to see anything, as they crept down the stairs together, and felt that dark things were somewhere here. There were no lights on, except for one of the porch lights outside, which he only noticed as the front door swung wide open. Quentin hit his brother’s arm, pushed him out of the room. Billy jumped in fright, without telling his brother what was going on, and both were knocked into the railing around the second floor.
The sound reverberated around the house. A strange set of echoes followed. Both of the children stood still, with wide eyes staring, at the appearance of their front door. The locks were all broken, and a chunk of the jambs’ paneling was missing from the edge, where the locks were set into the wood. No alarm, Quentin thought, and looked at his brother upset.
William was the first to react, and heard the footsteps of someone heavy-set, tramping their way towards the stairway. Quentin called out into the dark, looking for a sign of his mother, but instead heard more of the footsteps soon afterward. “That doesn’t sound like Mom,” William said, quivering slightly at that thought. Quentin was cursing himself with questions like why he had yelled.
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