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I'm Sorry that I Killed you
We judge everyday, without even considering deeper into the life's we offend. We blame people for being murderous, we blame them for being liars and even blame and insult individual's who don't fit into our norms. Norms however are nothing but a perception of the social constructs the society you belong to has created, being out of the norm does not mean you are less of a person or have a psychological disorder. Based from the knowledge of my social environment I grew up in I judged you as a ruthless serial killer, so I'm sorry, sorry I killed you without knowing more about the life you loved.
"Dante Run!" My heart beated or more like roared as I stumbled to reach the handle to freedom. He was on me too fast, and before I know it he threw me down and restrained me with chains. The only thought in my head was that I didn't want to die, but here he was with a knife against my neck.
"I'll repeat the question again, just in case you didn't understand the first time. Your mom or your dad, one lives the other dies."
The two choices weighed in my head. The choice between my mom and my dad. Who was better, who was my favorite? I couldn't answer that question. Though not biologically my Dad had given life to my mom. My mom who was bed ridden for years after my fathers death. My mom never looked at me during that time, even though I was the one who took care of her. I bought the groceries, I watched her health, though I would be disappointed to come home to find out she had cut herself on her wrists or ankles. I had to act like her parent, I had to be responsible, I was twelve. Still there was no one I'd rather love than my mother just to see her smile again. The smile that my new father finally gave her.
I was always burdened with a tenacity, a strength to endure, the strength to deal with these types of situations and not go insane. This strength was burdened inside me every sense my grandpa passed away.
I remember the day he died, it was winter. The snow blocked the roads and the ice had given my grandpa his last stand. "Grandpa!" This was not the usual warmth of my grandpa. There his body lay in stone, his eyes closed.
"Mommy why is grandpa sleeping?" Tears were in my mothers eyes, tears I had not seen before. Too many tears, too many lives ripped away from my life. My eyes became red, and a tear was forming in my eye.
"Stop crying, you Brat!" my biological father had said. "Yeah, he's dead get over it. You have to be strong if you want to survive in this world. If I ever see a sign of weakness again I will have nothing to do with you as a father." I swallowed my tears back up. I was three back then. That's when my innocents died, my grandpa, my role model, dead before my eyes unable to shed a tear in fear I'd lose the acceptance of my father.
Everyone in my family was dead now. Over the years conspicuous deaths had occurred, leading to the death of each one of my family members, my ma and pa were all I had left.
So why did this man want to kill them? My eyes shot back into focus I looked at the man's blade; I didn't know how he found us, or why he wanted me to choose. We lived in a secluded house, far from the cities, far from pretty much everything.
The man's axe was swinging back and forth.
"So which one is it boy, your mom or your dad. Which one should I kill."
He said this with a cynical smile. He was enjoying this, relishing on my own fears. I didn't want to make a choice. My legs and hands were restrained, my face held up towards my parents. Who were now chained to the wall next to the man. Their bodies oozing a puss from the beatings the man gave them.
I wanted to fight, I wanted to save them. I had no fear of death, but I did have fear of loss.
"You have to be strong, Dante. Stronger then everyone if you want to save the people you love." My biological father used to say when he was training me. For my entire life I trained my body as my father instructed. I mastered a new type of close combat. I tried to make myself invincible so I could save everyone from leaving me like my dad told me I could, but still I wasn't strong to save him.
I tried to scramble and tear apart the metal bindings from my limbs. The metal was scraping against my skin, peeling layers off as I pulled; I didn't care I just wanted to save the people I loved. Blood trickled onto my bonds, but I still never gave up, I twisted and yanked on the chains. Finally with my fear overwhelming me I made a decision.
"Me." I said. The room fell silent. The man cranked his head towards me.
"You?"
My parents fidgeted and muffled through their gags and binds. Probably as panicked as I was knowing that they would see another loved one die.
"Yes."
If I were to explain my feelings it would make me appear suicidal. It's not that I didn't want to live... it's just I wouldn't be able to contain another loss, I would break. I didn't want to live broken, he had to kill me, not them. I had no advantage in living anymore.
He walked towards me chuckling. "If I could kill you, things would be a lot different."
He bent down and beamed one of his eyes close to mine with a thrilling smile. My heart raced, it wasn't fear, but anticipation for the death. With a fluidness motion he took a knife from his pocket and placed it into my skull.
A quick and rapid burning sensation sent spasms throughout my body as my brain tasted metal. I tried to close my eyes hoping that it would bring my death faster. Hoping that the blood would stop running and I could lie in peace. I stood their for minutes, feeling the blood soak into my clothes. Eventually I became num, the pain dissipated, it was dark. Cold. After moments later I finally decided to open my eyes, hoping for something more.
I jumped back. The man was a hair away from touching me. "I told you didn't I, things would be different if you could die." The blood was still seeping out of the wound from my head. The pain shot back, but I didn't scream. I never screamed. "Screaming is a weakness, never show weakness to your enemy." Yea I get it Dad.
"I cut through your frontal lobe, if you were a regular person you would have a couple problems, speech, motor movement, death from blood loss, reasoning, but you don't."
Why? I looked at my hands which were soaked in blood. This was real, I wasn't dead. How wasn't I dead? "What the hell am I?"
"I'll be straight to you kid. You're the anti-Christ. Your not dead because your true self is protecting you."
I didn't know what to believe. I should be dead. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"There will never be a greater pleasure than in killing, but there are people that want you. Powerful demons, so powerful they could destroy this world with a flick of their wrist. Unfortunately these people want a legendary figure like yourself. It's time for the world of heaven to fear your arrival."
I almost chuckled from how ludicrous the statement was . "Your crazy."
"Not as crazy as I'll make you, but times up." He started walking away.
"What time? What do you mean?" I rustled the chains as I saw the direction he was heading.
"Tick Tick Tock..." he repeated over and over. He grabbed his axe. Strung it above his head, twirled around and chopped my father's head off. "Tick Tick Tock... A head falls off".
