23. A Saw, A Journal, A Death

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The saw came flying out of nowhere, just like the bottle. It was long and gleaming silver, with the sharpest edges I had ever seen. Instantly, that very same fear that I had become dreadfully used to was present once more.

Father laughed loudly; insanely, like a caged demon. "These are the last three undesirables. After this, the tainted blood will be completely out of my palace."

I looked closer at the bodies. Very slowly, very discretely, I noticed a chest rise and fall. I was wrong, they weren't dead yet. I looked closely at their features. I recognized one as the girl who had been arguing with Casey about being Father's favorite, however long ago that had been. Funny that she thought she had been so loved. The other two I had seen around, in worship and at lunch, but I had never heard their voices.

Spit dripped out of Father's mouth and he laughed again. The saw rose up above the bodies without any aide from human hands, slowly lowering itself towards them.

"No!" I rushed forward. There wasn't much I could do, but I would sure as hell try. Even thought they worshipped Father, and even though they hated me... They were still innocent. I grabbed the end of the saw and tried to pull it up and stop it from moving, but I couldn't do anything. The bodies under the saw were so perfectly knocked out, completely unaware of what was about to happen to them. Seeing this just made me pull harder on the saw. Still nothing.

"Ri-" Before I could even finish saying the three letter long name, a force ripped me backward and through me against the wall, hard. Pain overtook my back and head, and the last thing I saw before falling asleep was the saw ripping through the defenseless and unresponsive bodies' necks, blood flying in every direction imaginable as their heads became unattached.

*****

I woke up to the familiar darkness of my cell. Rin, as usual, sat in the corner with his head in his knees, rocking back and forth.

"Rin?"

Slowly, he lifted his head up. "Yeah."

I looked to the floor, and pointed. There it was. "Father's book. The diary thing he gave me."

Rin nodded, expression far off and distant. "I...flipped through it. Maybe you should take a look."

"Wait...what did Father tell you when he did the weird ass ear thing to me?

"Just fucking scolded me. Like I was a rebellious kid. Anyway, read it."

I stood up, my joints cracking and my limbs aching, but I barely even felt that over the raging curiosity that was once more present in my mind. I bent down and picked up the small, black leather journal. It crinkled as I turned to the first page.

Cult language.


I turned to the second.

Cult language.

I turned to the third.

Half cult language. The other half, English. Frail, skinny letters, yet stunningly accurate. All the words were spelled right. Most of the grammar, correct. It still had a youthful feel to it, however, with short and choppy sentences and limited detail, but the accuracy was almost eerie.

Hello, journal. I'm sorry if my English is bad. I just started learning a little over a month ago. I ran away from my tribe. The people I met are very nice. I'm glad I met them. I'm glad I'm in this place called America. They say I learn fast. I'm supposed to be like my tribe. But I'm not because I'm really smart. They said I'm learning how to live in modern world very quickly. I'm almost like a normal seven year old!

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