|
The Source: Prologue - Part I |
|
|
|
|
|
|
<center>The Source
Prologue</center>
"Do it," the voice said, "she cheated on you. The child isn't yours." The voice whispers louder in his mind. "She betrayed you, took your heart, and tore it into miniscule pieces ." It began to speak, and then yell. "Do it! She ruined your life! She lied to you! She decieved you, making you believe something the false, and toyed with your emotions like a kitten with a ball of cat-n**. And as the kitten would tear apart the ball, she tore apart your self-esteem, and ruined what little pride you had left." The voice stopped yelling, and was speaking clearly in his mind. He would yell at it, "No!" he would scream, "I can' do it!" he would cry out to the voice. His heart was pounding faster and faster with each word the voice spoke. "You need to do it," the voice would say, "You need to teach her that you will not let her play with your emotional being. You need to rid the Earth of garbage like her, and that child. It is not yours, and that scum of a human being led you to believe that it was your own pride and joy, while it was nothing more than a dirty animal that was concieved by another!" The voice was low, yet stern and angry. He began to see the voice as a logical sound. He began to believe it.
The voice was prying into his mind. It had made him do wrong and terrible things in the past, and now this. He was sweating uncontrollably, his body was drenched with the cold substance, spawned of anger, hatred, and fear. He was scared, he was angry towards the voice, he hated it, loathed it's every breath. But, it was not simply the voice, his wife for leading on about the child, cheating on him. No.. she was not his wife, nor was that his child. He body began to vibrate with fear, curled up, biting his nails on the ground. He was pulling at his hair as though it were a vicious animal, attempting to devour him. He eyes were shut as tight, squinted and aching. When his eyes were s**t like this, he could see the source of the voice. It was a man, with thick, grey hait, and a matching beard. It wore a small brown pilot's hat, and a torn and battered brown trenchcoat. He seemed like a simple homeless man. But his wrinkled face wore a smirk, and searing yellow eyes. With that very smirk, the cat-like eyes would seem to pierce into his inner thoughts. It was inescapable.
Steven stood up. He had not stopped sweating, nor did his heart stop throbbing, yet he was no longer breathing as heavily, nor was he as frieghtened. "Do it now," the voice whispered from the man's stone-like lips. Steven relized he could not evade the voice or the man. If he did not listen to it, he would be forever plagued by it's stinking presence. He opened his eyes, painfully and slowly. A new fire kindled inside them. He was overcome with rage and hatred towards the voice, and his wife and that child. "If I do it," he said in a shakey, but defient tone, "you must leave me alone." The voice simply laughed in his mind. A long, hard laugh, that gave a sharp pain to Steven's head. When he had stoppedm he whispered in a barely audible, monotonus voice, "Of course." He resumed the laugh, but it quickly faded away, leaving Steven's mind blank. He let out a relieved sigh, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and dryed his face with his shirt. He turned his head towards his dresser drawer. He slowly walked towards it, and opened it even more slowly, slipping out the combat knife that his father had givin him when he came of drinking age. He let out a small chuckle at the humor in this, trying to find some enlightenment in the situation, considering what he was faced with.
The door downstairs creaked open, and slammed shut a second later. His wife yelled to the house, informing whoever was inside that she was home. She obviously did not yet know that Steven was aware of her actions, but she would soon enough. When she noticed no one had answered, se beganclimbingthe steps. He listened s her foot lande on ach wooden stair, causing to creak loudly. She opened the door biskly, andswitched the light on. As the light sprung to life, so did Steven. He lunged at her, burying the knife into her right breast, witessing the blood pour from the wound. She tried to scream out, but blood flowingfrom her mouth muffled this into a horrified gurgle. He dug the knife into her twelve more times, until she stopped moving. She lay there, soaking in a pool of her own blood. He stood up straigt and took a look at what he had just done. Her face had the most terrified expression he had ever seen. As he saw the wounds, he lost his stomach all over the floor next to the body. He had killed a person. Not only a person, but a person he loved with all he had. The voice returned for a brief moment, only to mutter to him, "The child." Steven's mind brought back the feeling of knife tearing through flesh. It was a horrible feeling, and he would not want to do it again. Taking a pillow from his bed, he stepped over the body cautiously, as though it would leap up and tear him apart for what he had done to it, into the hallway. He was convered in blood, and upon relizing this, he almost lost his stomach a second time. After regaining his staina, he stumbled over to his 'daughter's' room. He creaked open the door, and looked at the baby sleeping in the cradle. He hesitated, but upon hearing the preassuring voice, he threw his entire moral feeling into the wind, and smothered the child. It did not awake, or even flinch. He held the pillow there for a minute and a half, although it felt like an hour, before removing it from the child's face. He looked at her. she was surely dead. Veins that had popped up in her head were not pulsing, and her stomach had stopped moving to the rythym of breath. Upon seeing this, he was scarred for life. He had killed a child. His or not, it was not right to kill anything that cannot defend itself. He then thought about his wife, and became even more emotionally damamged.
"I've.. I've done it," he cried. He was relieved the voice had fled, but at the same time, he felt as though he had killed his own parents. The voice suddenly returned with that wretched laugh. It scorned at Steven making him feel worse. "You worthless wretch!," It yelled at him, "You killed two people! One of them a child!" The voice went on to mock and tease him. Steven yelled out in rage. He was frustrated that after the unforgivable acts he had commited, the voice had not lefthim. He cracked, and ran to his room. He tore the sheets from his bed, and tied them into tight knots, and a noose at the end. The voice continued to laugh in the back of his mind. Steven secured one end of the sheets to the stairway railing, and the other around his neck. He jumped off, he did not want to live with it. But the voice had not finished with him. The knots came loose, and Steven came crashing down on the floor. The voice would not let him get away so easily. "Who the hell are you?" Steven cried in awe and fear. The voice laughed louder and louder. He went to get his combat knife and cut himself through, but when he reached his room, the body was gone, and the blood was cleared. It was the same in the childs room. "I'm going to make you live with the guilt, and never let you have te satisfaction of recieving punishment for your crimes. I am going to make you suffer." Steven ran from the house, screaming in terror. It was a nightmare. It was all he could tell himself. He would wake up soon. The voice haunted him with a maniacal laughter, as he ran off into the distance. He did not stop until he collapsed in a woods, far from his home.
 [-Henshin-] · Fri Oct 01, 2004 @ 02:56am · 4 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
![[-Henshin-]](https://a1cdn.gaiaonline.com/dress-up/avatar/ava/e0/b9/794c02499b9e0.png?t=1314270568_6.00_00 "[-Henshin-]")