Day 12 – My Design – Short Story

He feels his face and grimaces with pain, the deep cut under his eye flows freely with blood, he places the sleeve of his jumper over his hand and presses it against the wound. Next to him lies the body of his attacker, his cold, dead eyes staring at him. For what seems like forever he holds the dead man’s gaze until he shuffles slowly to his feet, the blood soaked knife still tightly in his grip. He lets out a moan as he falls back against the wall, dropping the knife, he feels the sharpness of the blade as it tears into his foot, but everything freezes into place as he hears movement coming from beyond a metal door to his right. His heart races a million miles an hour and his breathing picks up its pace as his eyes shift to the doors handle, watching it as it slowly turns, he grits his teeth and crouches down, pulling the knife from his foot. The door swings open and she stands there, in the doorway, silhouetted by the lights behind her, he sucks in a breath and holds it, in awe of her beauty, tonight seeing her for the first time tonight as she truly is. He lets out a primeval cry and charges towards her, but in his weakened state he is no match for her and she easily out manoeuvres his attack and sends him crashing to the ground, the knife tumbling out of his grip and skidding across the floor.

“Seriously, is this how you choose to deal with this? You should have run, you should have stayed hidden, like the piece of shit you are,” she says, sarcasm dripping from her words.

“What else did you expect me to do? You threw me away like I was nothing, like I was a piece of garbage, after everything I did for you, everything I taught you, everything I gave you, what else should I have done?”

“You never gave me anything, all you did was take, take, take and then when there was nothing else to take you still tried, you should have let the darkness swallow you, instead of coming back,” she says as she drives a knee into the back of his neck, grabbing a hand full of hair and pulling his head back and placing a blade to his throat. “He was my father!”

“Only by blood, I’m your true father, not that pathetic corpse!”

“You had no right, you’re a disease Milian, a disease that needs to be cured with this blade, I made it, just like you taught me,” she says as she digs the blade into his throat.

“You’re nothing without me, I made you, everything you are is because of me not them, I freed you from what you would have become, another pathetic waste of human flesh. Do it, kill me and see where your life leads you little fox, see what you have left without me!”

“You stole me from my family, you abused me, you used me, brainwashed me into believing your way was the right way, that I was called into this depraved life for a reason.But you were wrong, you see, you may have taught me how to kill, how to survive, but you never made me, you just unlocked a part of me I kept hidden, a part of me that was always there!” She says as she slices the blade across his throat, then drives it through the centre of his skull. His body jerks violently for a few moments, but she keeps her knee firmly planted in his back and only releases it once he goes still and lifeless. She gets to her feet and wipes the blade on the back of his jumper and looks down upon the body of the man she’s called many things over the years since he stole her from her bed so many years ago, but she never called him father. He thought he was creating a disciple, a follower, but in the end all he really created was a weapon, a weapon that was only made to serve one purpose, and that purpose had now been fulfilled.

END

3 Comments Add yours

  1. Dark stuff, Matthew, did you get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?

    Like

    1. Matthew Tonks says:

      I think, it was a dark day in the beginning, like so many others, and the idea just sort of happened. I was as surprised by the way it ran off the road myself.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Shit happens, at least you used it to some creative advantage

        Liked by 1 person

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