Wrath

A Story by Emilie

“No one would even notice. Not until it was too late. Like him, he’s so engaged in the movie, and she’s just stoned out of her mind. The kid might see it, notice something, but he’s just a kid. Who would listen to him? Most of the time he’s got to repeat the same question over and over before anyone notices his mouth has moved. The rest of them are too busy talking, interested only in the sound of their own voice. Even if someone did notice they’d be too shocked to respond to warn the rest of them.”

He turns the blade in his hands, thumbing the edge of the machete. It’s old and sort of rusty, but it will do. He just needs the element of surprise.

“I could just come out the bedroom with it. Just a few clean swings and it’ll all be over.” Picking it up he feels the weight of it; balancing it out, cutting through the air with such ease and accuracy. “Well, just one clean sweep at least.” He envisioned it now, the blood matted in her hair. He listened then, for sounds, for movements. There wasn’t any need to; he knew they would have something occupying them. Something distracting them long enough not to notice.

It was fast. Rushing in past a few of them, he had his goal set. Raising the blade above his head, a red haze clouded his eyes. It came down then, fast and accurate; the blade splitting the skull, blood splattering across his face. Jerking it free he moved for the child. He was the closest target, cleaving the face across the bridge of his nose. Just as he expected the others were still in shock, but it wouldn’t last long. As he rushed toward them her arm came across in defense; the blade severing it. He paused then. The last two would be a problem; they had already reached for things to defend themselves with; screaming curses of fear and shocking astonishment. Moving to the one that held the lamp, he ducked under his wide swing and stabbed the machete into his ribs; jerking the blade sideways to open the wound. He felt it then, the cool blade jabbed into his back. Yanking his weapon free he turned around cutting wide. It struck home, leaving a gash across his stomach. He couldn’t ignore the pain any longer. He fell to his knees, satisfied that he’d finally rid himself of their constant presents, but most of all he was just happy to have rid himself of her.

“But you see; now that I’ve told you, you’ll know. The moment I get up with the machete in my hands, or raise it above my head; you’ll warn the others. But it is so damn tempting, isn’t it?” He looked away then, reliving the act of it in his head, replaying the scene over and over again. He glanced toward her. “Just one clean sweep.”

The End