Clanking of heels echoed through the now hush house. All the earlier activities had halted, just like everything would, if a royal walked in. The wooden panels, that the entity sauntered on, amplified every creak like it had never done before.
Sid gulped, his heart beat ringing in his ears and every nerve in his body frozen with fear. He could almost hear his heart fluttering – it found it hard to beat— as the clip clop got closer to the door. The sound didn’t pause once, it incessantly became louder; she knew exactly where he was. Against all odds, he prayed she wouldn’t find him. But the lovely candles were not lit to welcome just anyone; they were a reception especially for him.
The clattering came to an abrupt halt, making Sid lean closer to the door. The anticipation of the unknown horror made a chill creep up his spine.
Crash – a glass vase came rolling down from his dresser. A wild gush of wind whistled through the window, which till then, Sid was sure had been closed. The curtains whipped around torturously, twisting and whipping in their abyss. The candles started to flicker as the wind teased them, resulting in the swaying of the golden illumination.
The dancing candles threw monstrously looking shadows in the nooks and crannies. However, they bowed down to one particular shadow. Everything froze; the curtains remained tendrils of twisted material suspended in the air and the candles flames were a statue at thirty-degrees, playing the role of a spotlight for the most perfectly, and womanly silhouette.
Sid’s breath hitched and he bolted upright immediately. His hands fumbled with the locked door, twisting the key, but the door refused to unbolt. Out of fearful desperation, he started banging and hauling the door, in poor attempts to break it free of its hinges; but he had no such luck.
“Sid Michael Jordon, son of Abigail Jordon and Rafael Jordon,” her smooth, yet cold voice ringed. The clinking of heels had started again, this time, however, within the room.
His tongue felt like it had swollen in the folds of his mouth and his throat imitated the texture of sand-paper. Tears started to uncontrollably leak down his face. He turned around reluctantly to face his demonic addresser.
“What do you want?” he asked. His voice quivered and he clamped his hands in fists to stop the trembling.
He could still hear her walking, but he couldn’t see her. Sometime during his haste to break the door, time had resumed to its flowing state and everything was obeying physics again.
“Offender of lust, the night of the twentieth January, you raped a fourteen year old maiden,” she said.
A piercing pain tore through his groin and up his abdomen. His lungs constricted for breath as he screamed out loud. It felt like his muscles were tearing apart leisurely, until eventually, it felt like the tendons were letting go of his bones. He couldn’t see anything but white. The girl’s piercing screams slashed through his head. His head pounded with the magnitude of screams and cries, clogging his brain all at once.
“In the shadows of the seventh February, you drugged a lady and had your way with her.”
Nausea flooded all his senses, the pain from the earlier torture dulled. Waves of unawareness hit him and he stumbled around with a numb brain.
“Please…” he managed to wheeze. Ironically, those were the exact words the lady had said. But Lust showed no mercy, she just paced before him, invisibly.
Pain shot again, this time with less intensity, but painful none-the-less. He sobbed at the disgusting sensation of being frayed inside. His mind flooded with the quite whimpers that he had caused that day, total helplessness clawed at him. His knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor, salty rivers making their way down his face.
And tonight… you abused a wife in her own house.”
All the dullness vanished and he was super alert of his surroundings. Hot pain rushed up his shoulders, it felt like his sockets were being ripped out of their abode. The pain he subjected to the woman today, when he had cuffed her hands behind her back. The sting climbed up his back and to his shoulders. His Organs felt like they were being squashed as the ache reached its unbearable crescendo. He wailed out in agony, and trashed around trying to break himself free of his incarcerate. The woman’s pleas drowned his very being, her scream echoed through his conscious and he felt his heart sink with such a deep sense of self loathe – her feelings for befriending him.
He heaved and cried, he begged for pity from the invisible force, but got none. Every word he uttered was ignored.
“Do you deny?”
All of a sudden, her depthless eyes were boring into his and she was a mere inch from his face. A pathetic scream left his mouth and his hands flew to his face, as if he could hide himself from his fate; from further torment.
“I am Lust, your hellhound, and I’m the most merciless of them all,” she whispered in his ears.
The door budged behind his back, and then followed by a low groan as it gave way. He stumbled through the broken prison and rushed to the front door, taking the steps two at a time and literally sprinting to his destination: out of the house. His body ached but that did little to kill his determination to escape.
He pulled at the door, kicked it and turned the key right and left, but there was no avail. The door didn’t budge, just like his room door hadn’t. At the back of his mind, he knew nothing would dislodge, but he had to try. He picked up the flame poker from the corner of the wall and rushed to the window. He slammed the iron stick as hard as he could, but the rod just bounced back.
The house had become a monster, determined to keep its meal in.
After trying all the possible escape routes, Sid dejectedly slumped onto the couch with his face buried between his knees. He rocked back and forth.
“I’m so sorry,” he chanted.
The television screeched to life and Sid looked up with hazy eyes. Images of his mother flickered through the screen; her smiling, hugging him and finally, her staring at her son and husband with the most adoring look. He leaned forward and wiped his eyes so he could get a better look at the beautiful woman.
Suddenly, the screen went blank. It was all black for a fleeting second, but it burst to life just as quickly. Words sputtered onto the screen with blinding speed.
Name: Abigail Jordon.
Occupation: Mother and wife.
Death: 28-06-2000
Time: 3.00 AM
Cause of Death: Repetitive Rape and beaten to death. Major blows on the head with a baseball bat and broken ribs due to several punches.
Violent appetites have violent ends.
There was only a second for Sid to react to his mother’s death story and then, without warning, the screen combusted into a million shards of glass, plastic and metal.
They all formed a perfect mosaic sword as they flew in his directions. His eyes grew into big almonds and he covered his face in defense, but his face wasn’t the target.
They all crashed into the flesh right above his heart, slicing the skin with ease and lodging into the beating muscles. The searing pain made him see white and he screamed in agony but the fiery ache just intensified. Crimson flooded out of the gash in gallons but he didn’t get a quick death. With each beat, his body was set on fire, getting him to wail out for mercy.
Through the dots lining his vision, he saw those perfect long legs stand right in front of him. She leaned forward and smashed her lips to his.
“This is but tingle compared to what’s waiting for you. I’ll be waiting for you in hell,” she smirked. Just like that, she was gone while he withered in agony.
Even death took its time
coming to him.
