Split the Deck

Chapter 10

The crimson liquid that stained my hands so thickly seemed to be screaming in thousands of voices, calling to every inch of darkness that had tethered itself to my soul. My vision was tunneled, the images flashing wildly in jittery stills. I barely noticed the grass prickling my bare feet. All feeling had left my hands and the loud trimming of their hearts left the sounds of my ears. I had wiped clean the slate, snuffed out the existence of the demons which hunted me so cruelly. I killed my parents. It wasn't easy, it took every inch of me to fight back the hot, harsh sick rising in my throat. If I didn't kill them before I finished out my end then they would just pillage another poor souls life and I would rather have the demons of the void swallow and mangle every piece of my shattered black soul before that happened.
I had tried to control my rage, but every memory and sensation clawed its way to the surface, tearing the tendons of scars long since forgotten and that drove the dagger further and deeper with a gutwrenchingly sweet sound of flesh ripping at the seams. It started with my mother, she was easy enough to take out. Ever the devoted catholic, she knelt on her knees in front of a crucified Jesus, his eyes cast up to the heavens in agony and acceptance. She didn't hear me come in, padding my way across the checkered tile floor of the kitchen until I reached the old, unstained and coarse oak wood flooring. I gripped the kitchen knife firmly in my hand, bring it around her neck as if playing a fiddle. She had her eyes closed, her hands joined together in prayer and I waited for her to look up knowing that once she did, it would be her movement.
She glanced up finally and I made my move, pressing the sharp, hungry blade strongly into her throat and sliced. The snapping sound it made as it broke through skin and organ made bile rise in my throat. The blood didn't spray like it did in the movies, it just poured as if I had tilted a jug of lemonade, spilling over the rim in dark crimson curtains. She gurgled as she choked on her blood, her body convulsing before landing with a heavy thud on the floor. It was then that the rage took me. For each lash if the whip she had given me, I returned with the slash of the blade. The voices became louder with each thrust. Blood splattered, covering my hands, face, clothes. Dennis would have loathed this. By the time I was finished with her and the images subsided she lay at my feet, body cut into ribbons and unrecognizable. I cried at first, weeping for the mother that should have cherished and loved me, until I heard the front door open. I bared my teeth in pure hatred, taking the stance if a lion hunting its prey as I went to hide.
It was my father's turn.
His footsteps at first were calm as he entered the kitchen and tossed his keys with wild abandon on the table and slamming his lunchbox down. I could hear the clanking of his liquor bottles in there. I suppressed a growl, listening for the drop of shock to catch him off guard.

"What the fuckin' hell?" He trembled, feet clumsily scrambling over to his wife's mangled corpse. He passed me without another thought and dropped to his knees. Blood soaked into his jeans. I waited until he belted out the first sob to pounce, my blade plunging violently into his head as my arms and legs curled around his body, this time willingly. His spine went rigid, a gasp too quick to describe left his lips.

"I'm not your tiger lily anymore." I whispered in his ear and ripped the blade out. The hand that lovingly caressed my mothers sliced cheeks caught my eye. Images of calloused fingers roaming hungrily, claiming every inch of territory on my body that they could with bruising strength. His mouth hot and greedy tasting of jack and coke, muffling my cries for help. His body slumped forward, just the way it had when he was over top of me, forcing my limbs around him before he forcefully drove into me. Pain had taken over, betrayal seering into my blood as the memory of each horrid touch and each sickening thrust flashing through my mind. I didn't hold back just as he didn't hold back on me. The knife entered his body hundreds of times, each thrust holding more and more power until my arms grew too weak to continue.
Relief hung heavily in the air, my clothes were drenched in blood, my hair matted with it. The demons called to me, ready for their meal.

It was my turn now.
I made my path with numbness spreading through me like tar. Tears rolled down my face, mixing with the blood that stained my cheeks. The voices grew heavy but only one stood out.

》Cleanse.《 That was the only thing the spirit of my cards had told me. I heard the rush of the water, saw the gentle rise of the bridge. I stumbled towards salvation, ignoring the sharp stones and shards of wood from the broken twigs that stabbed at my feet. Being uncomfortable was something I had been accustomed to. Blood dripped off of my fingertips and time seemed to slow as my feet touched the white painted woods. It creaked softly, the boards bowing ever so slightly under my weight. The water beneath me called out, beckoning me to come into its sweet depths. I obliged, hoisting myself onto the railing and standing up slowly. With careful precision I turned around, arms outstretched to the sky. The end was so close, I could feel the shackles of the past falling away. I cried out, my eyes closing and I let gravity take over.
The water beneath me was ice cold and rushing quickly around me. The sounds were muffled but deafening as the splash hit. The voices stopped. I was alone, I was serene. Pain flooded into my brain as a hard, sharp object collided with the back of my head, I gasped, water filling my lungs with determination. I felt weak, I felt tired and my body was unresponsive to my lungs plea for air. I smiled peacefully and let the gentle guiding hand of death take me away.