Purely Purple Psychopath

Chapter 9

6 years had passed by so quick. William practically felt time slipping through his fingers. He realized the end of his life was slowly limping closer and closer with each passing day. It was thoughts like these that plunged the poor bastard into a deep depression that lasted for months. Michael was all grown up, Kenny and Isabelle were still distant memories that forever haunted William's subconscious.

Sometimes, he still saw them in his dreams. They would run up to him and hug his leg. They would say things like "Where's mommy? What happened? I'm scared, daddy! Help me!" They would always say these with tears in their eyes and their voices croaking and shaking as if in intense distress and agony. William would try to comfort them in these dreams and calm them down only for the dream to abruptly end and force William awake in cold sweat.

One night, he had one of these dreams, but this one was radically different in the worst possible way.

William was standing in a small dark room with a flickering light giving off a faint glow. Kenny walked into the room, his expression hard to make out due to the murky lighting, but upon further examination, showing intense malice and disgust. He stormed up towards William, who was tied to a chair, getting as close as he can to his former father. He could hear Kenny snarling in anger and see his tiny arm muscles bulging fiercely. Kenny only spoke a few words, but they were enough to send William into an anxiety filled spiral of regret,

"Why?" he asked in a voice much deeper than usual. "Why didn't you stop Mikey? Do you not care about me anymore? Do you love the others more than me? Don't you regret what you've done?" he asked again.

"No... No! I do care about you!" yelled William. "I'm sorry!" Kenny looked at him with confusion.

"You don't look very sorry to me" he grumbled.

"Well, I am, Kenny! It's not my fault if you don't believe me!" William yelled again while struggling against his constant hyperventilating.

"You will be with us very soon..."

That statement was enough to send William jolting out of his sleep again. He felt something warm on his blanket that smelled foul and was very hesitant to check it. He eventually decided to cave in to his curiosity and check for what it was, half expecting sweat.

What he saw instead was nothing but pure, fresh, chunky vomit laying on his bed. Will wanted to scream, but somehow managed to hold it.

He checked the time: 6AM in the morning. He stood up, dragged himself into the kitchen, cleaned up the vomit on the blanket, and went over to the laundry room to throw the blanket in.

William went to work that day with the nightmare still on his mind, and was in noticeable distress while trying to attempt work.