𝑰𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝑩𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒕

A Tragic Demise

    As the children were lining up for their "vaccinations", Violet and Tom made sure to get in front. Murdock Lescue, who hated children, gave Violet a very forced smile as he was filling up the syringe. "Now, child," He spoke in what was supposed to be a somewhat friendly voice, but sounded colder than ever. "Give me your arm." Violet did nothing, staring blankly ahead. "Your arm, child!" Violet glared menacingly into the man's black goggles. He froze, noticing her eyes, all the color drained from his face, he started to take off his goggles when Violet yelled,"NOW!" Tom jumped behind the doctor and held him down. Violet grabbed the syringe and plunged the needle deep into the madman's skin. He let off a terrible howl, which turned into maniacal cackling, "You think you can use my own medicine against me? I'm already insane, it already courses through my veins, and your's too!" He slung the boy off his back and pulled a knife out of his briefcase, looking wildly about the room. Helen screamed and shielded the children with her body, while Mrs. Norberry, still under submission, stood idly by. Dr. Lescue slowly turned to Violet. "NO!", shouted Tom, running at the madman. Murdock quickly turned and stabbed Tom twice without hesitation, twisting the blade deep into his body. Violet shrieked as he sank to the ground, crimson blood pooling all around him. Murdock Lescue turned to face Violet, who was trembling in absolute terror, and ripped off his black goggles. The two sets of purple eyes locked in horror and shock. "You look just like your mother..." He told her, caressing her face fondly with a strange look in his eyes, just before he pressed the blade to her throat, and slit it. He gazed at the child for a moment, the look of terror still etched on her face. It was at that moment, even through his insanity, in some blurred way, he realized what he had done. He held the child in his arms. "I- I'm sorry Emily," His voice faltered. "I didn't mean to do it again, I didn't mean it, it's not my fault! Please don't be mad, Emily!", He pleaded mournfully with his dead wife, tears streaming down his face as he clutched the lifeless body to his chest. Then he took the little girl's limp hand in his, and slit his own throat.

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅. - 𝑬𝒍𝒊𝒛𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒉 𝑴𝒂𝒋𝒐𝒓𝒔