Whispers Of Chaos

| 6. 𝑩𝒂𝒅 𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔

I'm tired but I can't sleep
'Cause they're waiting for me
These bad dreams are more than true
~ Bad Dreams, Faouzia

Chapter 6. Bad Dreams

[past]

The world was bright, and the girl was the happiest person on the planet.

The six-year-old girl and her aunt walked hand in hand as she got lost in her bubble of happiness. Her aunt took care of many sisters and brothers similar to her age or younger.

The little girl adored her aunt. She was the kindest person she ever knew.

The red-haired woman laughed, watching the girl halt on her steps, her doe eyes wandering to a stall. "Here," the woman said, getting down on a knee and giving her a cone of her favorite strawberry ice cream.

Having the desire to eat more than necessary, the little girl risked taking a big bite of the sugary blob, making her brain freeze, and the woman giggled. "Slowly," she laughed.

"Tasty?" the woman asked.

"Twasty," the girl replied with her mouth full of ice cream, her eyes filled with delight. Her hand intertwined with her aunt as they walked while she happily nibbled her ice cream. She could not be even happier. The red-haired woman laughed, shaking her head; the little girl had the sweetest tooth.

"So tell me, what do you like more? Strawberry or your aunt," the woman asked sternly, leading the girl to an alley.

"Strawberry."

"My, my, what a heartless girl," the woman gasped as if hurt by the blunt words. Taking a bite of the pink sweetness, the little girl giggled. Her pigtails bounced with every step she took. No one could ever match her love for strawberries.

They would always be the number one.

Her face fell as she completed the last bite of her ice cream, and she was too shy to ask for more. Her curious eyes wandered as she noticed they were by the sidewalk in an alley she had never seen.

After fifteen minutes of walking, they entered the dark, damp streets near a black car. The woman stopped the kid and brought her near to the SUV. Two men stood against the car.

"My child," the woman crooned. "You have a new home now," the woman said, catching the girl off guard. Her eyes widened. What did her aunt mean? Home? Didn't she already have a home filled with many other kids like her? What's going on? An eerie feeling hit her stomach.

She did not like it.

"You are going with them. Get in the car," she smiled and patted the child's head with utter love. The little girl looked at her aunt with confusion splattered across her face. She did not want to leave her aunt.

"I don't want to leave you," she hugged the legs of the woman and looked up with her doe watery eyes, unwilling to let go. She pouted like a spoiled kid and shook her head vigorously.

The woman let out a sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Why can't she get rid of this nuisance?

"You need to leave, baby," she forced a smile. "They are your new family now." The girl looked reluctant, betrayed. She was always a good girl; why was her aunt giving her to someone else? Her six-year-old mind could not process it.

Her olive eyes darted to two men. She flinched and hid behind her aunt. They looked big and scary.

"She will miss me," the girl spoke, her eyes red and teary. "I won't go," she shook her head.

The red woman's eyes hardened. This bitch. "Sweetheart, you need to go," she cooed, controlling the anger breaming within her.

"No," the child refused.

"We will get you another strawberry ice cream on the way," the man offered. The girl looked swayed, her mouth watered for more strawberry-flavored things. Her eyes sparkled with interest, and the man smiled at her reaction.

"Carl, we have strawberry candies in the back of the trunk, don't we," he hummed, looking at his partner. How stupid, Carl rolled his eyes. But to his benefit, the girl was buying into those foolish words.

Oblivious to the dark intentions, the girl bubbled with excitement; her pigtails swayed as her eager body moved to the trunk, searching for candy.

"Here," the man handed a thick packet to the woman who coyly hid it inside her jacket. Her eyes curved into a smile. "If you have more, let us know," he mumbled, looking at the child who walked towards the trunk.

"Of course. It's always a pleasure doing business with you.

The girl's lips puckered, and a frown etched on her face. There was nothing in the trunk. Before she could turn around, someone hit the side of her head, making her strike against the metal frame. A cry left her lips as she saw black dots in her vision.

Blood trailed down the metal as the small body collapsed inside the trunk. A cruel chuckle was all she heard before the boot door got shut.

Like her fate

---

[present]

A man with dead, lifeless eyes and a jagged scar running down his face entered the bar, his presence commanding attention. The guard near the entrance gasped, his eyes widening in terror as he frantically spoke into his earpiece, calling for backup and reaching for his gun.

But it was too late.

The man shot the guard dead in the head.

The guard's body slumped to the ground, lifeless, as crimson blood pooled around his motionless form.

The scarred man approached the lifeless body, his shoes making sickening squelching sounds as they pressed against the warm, sticky blood.

Inside the bar, a cacophony of noise filled the air. Neon lights flickered and blazed, casting an eerie glow on the scene. The music pounded, mingling with the raucous laughter and the sultry whispers of women. Men and women intertwined, lost in a haze of drugs and alcohol, surrendering themselves to the raw pleasure.

It was a haven of vice.

Amidst the chaos, a round man with gray hair sat at a table, enjoying the company of a naked young girl pouring him a glass of whiskey. His hand palmed her boobs as she forced a laugh, her hand placed on his chest.

The glass slipped from his trembling grasp, shattering on the floor, as his eyes locked onto the scarred man entering the bar with a rifle in hand.

"Liam," the elderly man stuttered, his voice filled with desperation as he pushed the girl on his lap away. Panic clenched his chest, and his words stumbled out in a rush. "Listen, we are aware that we have lost—"

He shot the older man.

The room descended into a surreal stillness as if time had frozen, punctuated only by the screams of those desperately fleeing for their lives.

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.

His left hand held the rifle steady, its cold metal glinting in the dim light. One by one, he unleashed a storm of bullets, each impact accompanied by a spray of blood and the anguished cries of those caught in the crossfire.

The death and destruction of bullets rang out throughout the bar as it shifted to an eerie silence.

Fifteen minutes. Forty-eight men. All of them were dead.

Word count: 1193
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