The Demon's Virgin

Entry 5)Resurrection

"Chimes like Midnight" by In the Groove
***

When my brother Noah was seven-months old, I accidentally dropped him while holding him. My fear and panic didn't evolve at the thought of what my parents would say or do. Noah wasn't hurt while hitting the carpeted floor, but that didn't take away the terror I felt at the given moment for allowing him to nearly be hurt. The feeling was a numb, stomach churning that made me feel positively evil for allowing it to happen. That same horrible gut-wrenching feeling was in me watching Adam die. I wasn't near when Rachel slit his throat, and I wasn't one of the individuals holding him down, preventing him from thrashing. But even so, I became paralyzed with guilt and fear, both emotions preventing me from doing the one intelligent move that made the most sense.

Run.

Running up the stairs before sprinting out into the dark woods was the most logical step. I knew the downtown area, and I knew it was only a two-mile sprint through the dark woods until I reached civilization. The police needed to be called and needed to be alerted as to what twisted murder just happened in the musty and dirty basement.

But nothing logical or rational happened. I didn't run. I didn't move; the same numbing fear was paralyzing me in place, preventing me from moving along with experiencing rational thought. Rachel had sliced the guy's throat open, and I did nothing to prevent it. Years later when everything was already said and done, I would lie awake at night and often ask myself if the reason I did nothing that terrible night was because I truly hated Adam Jones and didn't really care to see him tied up let alone suffering...

For a few moments as I stared at Adam's lifeless corpse, I feared that was the true reason I did nothing to help him.

What made Rachel's action frightening was not the blood, gore, or watching Adam choke to death on his own blood. What was positively horrifying was the zero hesitation the gorgeous girl had before she slit his throat. Not only did Rachel not seem to care of the murder she committed, she looked comfortable; happy.
It hadn't taken long for Adam to die, it happened too quickly. All my numb mind could do was gape as I watched the vibrant red blood slide down Adam's neck, forming a pool of blood beneath where his head lay on the ground. No scream escaped my throat given my fear.

"Good fucking riddance," said Sally, looking like she wanted the kick the dead boy at her feet. A cruel smirk took residence on her lip

"Don't touch him," Rachel warned, not even looking behind her to have seen Sally's actions. "It's bad enough our sacrifice wasn't a full and non-injured body."

"We couldn't have too many people go missing, Rach," Jake said.

It annoyed me how they all seemed to be on a constant communicative basis. Every individual of this group seemed to personally know each other even though I had never seen more than two of them interact with one another. Tonight, they all showed how great of friends they were. It was as if they often spoke and compared notes of how to murder our classmates.

Jake groaned as Rachel scowled at him. He smiled weakly. "People would notice if more than Adam didn't show up for Football practice on Monday. This way, no cops will see-"

"Resurrecting the Salem witches will make it so people like us will never have to suffer again," Rachel smiled serenely. "No more will we have to be victim to our parents' wishes! No more will we have to be victims to anything anyone ever says or does, again!"

A low, harsh laughter filled the dreary basement. The laugh was off, wrong. It sounded maniacal and positively mocking. It took me a few minutes to realize that I was making the noise. Everyone minus the dead guy turned to look at me. Jake attempted to shake his head at me as if silently telling me to stop. Words started leaving my mouth before I could stop them. I swiped away the blood leaking from my busted lip as I glared.