""I helped create you, you ungrateful waste of semen!" he shouted. "You're about to learn that life is not something I value" I replied. I removed the slender blade from its ornate sheath, and laid it across his throat. "But I...I love you..." he said, struggling to slip his words passed the weapon obstructing his airways.
Oh, my apologies. Allow me to give you a little background. My name is Raziel. Well, at least that's what I'll be allowing you to call me.
That's enough of that.
When I was a child, I didn't have the most ideal lifestyle. Sure, I always had the latest toys and games, and my clothes were replaced before they could be cleaned a second time. Our house dwarfed our neighbors' homes, and there was never a point where our refrigerator was empty. The problem lied with my creators. My mom, the passive alcoholic, and my fucking dad, Mr. beat the hell out of you for thinking too loudly.
I still remember my first beating; I was about 5, it was my first day of kindergarten. My dad was running late for work. He was my only ride since our house was off the bus route, and my mom was passed out on the kitchen floor. He kept honking the car horn, but I couldn't find my red backpack. I searched my room frantically, all the while my mind racing with thoughts of school. I stood there lost in my own thoughts of meeting new friends, playing with them, maybe even sharing some of my toys with my new classmates. That was when my dad barged in,
"What the FUCK are you doing?" he said sternly. "I..I..can't find it" I said. He advanced toward me, "Looks to me like you were standing here daydreaming." "I need help, dad." I barely managed to get the words passed my lips. "Oh, you need help? Here's some--" THUD--He struck me in the side of the head and sent me flying into the side of a toy box. What would normally be sound in my left ear was replaced with a high-pitched feedback. Before I could even react to the pain I was in the back of the car, unbuckled and writhing in pain. The day was less spectacular than I had imagined, and explaining to everyone I had an "ear infection" got old really fast. I don't think anyone believed me, even if they did, my dad had so much money and pull with the city he would've had me put in jail.
So that was my first day of school. I didn't think much of the beatings and my drunken mom, because I thought that was how it was supposed to be. I had a few friends here and there, but I didn't really get close to any of them. I know what you're thinking, "How the hell did you make it this far?", good question. I found this place to hide, where I could be completely alone with just me and my thoughts. I found solace in an old abandoned warehouse right next to a sparkling lake. Peace and quiet. How I found it is a long story...I'll tell you later.
All of the entrances to it were completely sealed, save for a giant crack on a less visible side of it. I only went at night to make sure no one saw me. Clandestinity probably kept me alive. I'd slip into the warehouse and stay for what felt like days. No dad, no mom, no problems. This place was spacious and empty. It eventually became the place that changed me. Where I became what I am. Or better yet, where I became what I turned into. I used this place in a seven-year long life-or-death version of hide-and-go-seek with my dad.
At some point the sick fuck got sick of slugging me and started cutting me. His favorite tool was a Mandau he procured on one of his "business" excursions to Indonesia. He'd slice me all over my back; couldn't even do me the honor of making it quick. He'd drag it slowly across me. I still have the scars.
One day, I was about 13 at the time, I came home late from the warehouse. "Where have you been?" he said as I pushed the door closed. "I figured you'd be happy I was gone for so long" I said snappily. He stood up out of his recliner and glared at me, "Are you getting smart with me?" he asked. I couldn't believe I was about to stand up to him, but it was too late, my mouth had already started going. "So what if I am, I'm getting fucking SICK of this place. You treat me like a monster, even though I've done nothing but respect you". "You are a fucking monster" he replied as he grabbed me by my shirt and drew his fist back. "I should kill you". "Do it. Do you honestly think I care about living at this point? Put me out of my misery already". Before he could swing, I drove a knee right into his crotch. He grip loosened, and I hit the ground running. I ran to my parent's bedroom upstairs, and attempted to wake my mom. "Mom! Mom! Dad's going to kill me! MOM?!".
She laid there unconscious. Something's not right. No bottles of alcohol or empty pill bottles in sight. In my panic, I didn't notice the red staining the bed sheets. She's dead. He fucking killed her. Right next to her was his weapon of choice--the Mandau. I didn't know what to do. I grabbed the weapon and slid its crimson blade into its sheath and ran downstairs. My dad was just now getting back to his feet, "What are you gonna do with that you piece of shit?", "Fuck you!" I yelled so loud my voice cracked into pieces. I saw the bowl my mom kept her keys in underneath the replica Salvador Dali painting in the dining room. Empty. Fuck. I had to keep moving or die. I ran to the garage and got in her car, where the keys sat in the ignition. Finally, some luck. As I started the car, my dad blasted in and began banging on the window. I shot him a middle finger and drove off to the sounds of his muffled cursing.
I made it to the warehouse in almost no time. Not bad for a guy who's never driven before. Lie. I had stolen that car several times before. I parked near the crack, and ran in, knife still in hand. I was safe again. Until my dad walked in. How dare he come into my home? "There you are you son of a bitch, I'm gonna skin you...", he walked toward me at an increasing pace, but since the place was so huge, it seemed like it was getting bigger. You could see the frustration in his eyes, he couldn't reach me. But I took one step forward and I was right in front of him. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed, CRASH. I slammed the pommel of the Mandau into his temple sending him tumbling to the ground into unconsciousness.
I found some old bungee equipment in the trunk of mom's car that I could use as rope. I brought it in with me to tie him up, in case he woke up and decided he was still dead set on killing me. "Ugh...what the..what are you doing?" he said in a groggy voice. "Ending you." I replied. "I helped create you, you ungrateful waste of semen!" he shouted.
"You're about to learn that life is not something I value" I replied. I
removed the slender blade from its ornate sheath still sticky with my mother's blood, and laid it across
his throat. "But I...I love you..." he said, struggling to slip his
words passed the weapon obstructing his airways. People will say anything to avoid death. I had intended to scare him, to show him I could take him out whenever I wanted to halt the abuse, but something in me changed. All of a sudden everything in me against the idea was suddenly cheering me on.
Kill him.
Spare him nothing.
Focus everything onto the edge of that blade and release it onto that despicable excuse for a human being.
"You sure have a funny way of showing it" I replied. I began sawing the blade into his neck. I savored every second of it. Every nerve, every bit of cartilage, every millimeter of bone I cut through. His words incoherent, only gurgles and blood there to answer my motions, until I hit an area that left him silent. I didn't care. I kept sawing until his head was completely off.
I just stood there, covered in blood and miscellaneous fluids, staring at his headless cadaver. I wasn't happy or upset, just kind of content. The beatings were over. The cuts are done. He is done. Reality set in and I realized I had just committed murder. Oh, fuck. I ran out still covered in blood and leaped into the nearby lake--evidence in hand and all. I threw the knife as far as I could into the azure. With a full moon reflecting off the surface, I dove in and began to clean the blood off of me. What am I gonna do about the body and that mess I left?
I got most of the blood off, even though my shirt still had stains on it. I checked the trunk to see if there were any bags or anything I could use to store the body. Maybe I could toss it into the lake. Stupid, stupid idea, but it's better than leaving a decapitated corpse lying in an abandoned warehouse. I found a few large trash bags, and brought them in with me.
It was gone.
The body, the head, the blood, everything. Gone."
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