Faux

Chapter 4

The birds in Eatonbrook Forest sang to the whimpers of Samantha Jefferies on a quiet Friday afternoon. Jonathan Carter, youngest of the Carter boys, lay on his back and gazed at the luminous face of his homeroom teacher in the throes of an oncoming orgasm. School was far from either of their minds as the forest life murmured around them.

They didn't notice the tall, dark silhouette peeking at them from behind a tree trunk. Nor the sullen, cherubic faces surfacing in hitches behind every tree trunk surrounding them. A throng of witnesses to the debauchery.

The children moved closer in one accord, synchronized like machines with one mind. One focus. A hive mind. Together they knelt and picked up stones and sticks from the forest floor. The dark silhouette pulled an ancient tome from the endless folds of its dark cloak. 

It began to preach to the children as they lifted their hands. Arms poised to strike.

Samantha Jefferies heard the quiet mumbles, thinking it was the forest animals when the first rock struck her against the forehead with a bone cracking crunch. A hailstorm of stones began its rain on them, peppering the couple like a biblical plague on a pagan nation.

Jonathan attempted to sit up only to flail against the relentless stings and heavy thuds bruising skin, rupturing skin, breaking bone and cartilage. Samantha slumped sideways before him with a heavy rock to the temple, eyes rolling backwards, breasts jiggling in defeat as she fell.

Then the sticks followed. 

Piercing. Stabbing. Plunging. Ramming.

Killing.  

Screams echoed across the shrouded expanse, scattering birds and rodents and bugs. Blood splashed forest floor and over the zealous youth who moved once again in one accord to peel skin off the bodies until the two lovers were merely pink silent husks. 

*

In the Sutton home, Evie sat in the living room watching her favourite cartoon. Her high-pitched giggles echoed across the doleful empty room and bounced off the picture frames of a broken family. 

Rebecca Sutton stood at the shadowed doorway leading into the living room. Bloodshot eyes framed by dark bags, staring unblinking at the leather couch. At the creature posing to be her child. 

Flickers of light from the TV screen shone against her face.

And against the gleaming steel of Michael's axe, still new from the toolbox he was never able to use. She tightened her grip against the coarse rubber handle, now warm between her clenched fingers.

She stalked forward. Slow, even steps. Quiet. Fearful. Raging.

"Mommy?" Evie turned from the couch with a creak, a questioning look spreading across her face and disheveled hair. Her eyes fell on the axe flashing distorted images of the TV screen.

"Mommy?" Fear laced into the voice as her body attempted to crawl into the safety of the leather. Squeaking with her movement. 

Rebecca grimaced,

"I'm not your mommy." And with all the force she could muster, swung the handle hard and fast towards the girl's face.

Evie screamed. Hands lifted to protect herself against the sharpened blade but nothing could stop it. Half a diminutive hand and stubs of thin fingers fell apart like shredded paper, spraying blood over the girl's sundress. Momentum pushed the axe forward with a solid thump as steel cleaved bone, slicing the shocked face in half across the nose and eyes. Blood and pus and thick watery liquid squirted across the blade and over Rebecca's arms. Evie's mouth hung open, popped eyes impossibly wide even between the steel separating them.

Serenity flowed up through Rebecca's arms and filtered through each part of her. An electrical jolt of ecstasy permeating every nerve and joint. A weight lifting off her body and soul. 

She smiled, feeling lighter than air as she breathed out softly into the room still filled with cartoon voices. She started to laugh. Insanity riding over her. On screen characters mimicking the sound in jovial accord.

Then -  Evie trembled violently. 

Rebecca's laughter faltered then fell completely as the edge of the axe forced itself out of the girl's face with a ferocity that knocked Rebecca back. The blood on Rebecca's arms and hands sucked their way down her skin like hands pulling at her. The axe forgotten on the ground she rose to her feet and watched the skull click back to place. A soft sucking noise filled the air, the TV flashing across the dulled eyes that slid closed with a slurp and filled like once deflated balloons. The fingers of Evie's right hand crawled back to their rightful place, knitting themselves together. What remained of the left hand slid into place and sealed itself back.

Life flowed back into Evie's eyes and she rose from the couch with a scream that started loud and grew silent as though she were screaming backwards.

"Mommy?" Fear glazed eyes stared up at Rebecca as a soft tremble flowed through her,

"Hey honey." Rebecca forced herself towards the couch, brushing the loose strands of hair in mock comfort, "You fell asleep and had a terrible dream." she whispered.

"A... dream?"

"Yes baby. You're alright. You're alright." While her voice carried the practiced soothing coo of a concerned mother, her heart thrummed like a runaway train. Hurtling through her veins. Trembling in her hands. Pressing against her chest as though it were being crushed.

"I'll pour you some warm milk. Would you like that?"

The little girl nodded, suspicion etched into her face, panic receding but not abating as she turned back to the television. Rebecca turned, lifting the axe that felt like dead weight in her hands. She prepared the milk in silence.

No laughter filled the house again.