Death Of A Cheerleader

Prologue

Driving home from work was tiring, but thinking about the thought of seeing his family as they welcomed him home eventually invigorated him. The hugs and kisses of his wife, and his 8-year old son, were one of the things he was always looking forward to coming home.

At last, he reached his house. His face lit up as he parked his car in the front yard, and turning engine off, he gathered his things eventually. He got out of the car, a smile was now written on his lips. He walked towards the door, his keys jangling at the same time, and once he reached the white oak double doors, he didn't waste any second and inserted the key on the keyhole, unlocking it.

His smile grew wide as he swung the door opened, only to be greeted by no one. The same smile he plastered eventually faded, and a frown appeared on his expression instead, thinking how unusual it was.

"Honey, I'm home!" he called his wife, but there was only silence. "Little Nate, daddy's home! Where are you, bud?!" he shouted once again, but still the defeaning silence did not disappear. His frown grew deep as he proceeded to the living room, hoping to find his wife and son, but it was empty. He then headed to the kitchen, a terrible feeling rose within him.

He did find them, but the sight that welcomed him made his blood ran cold. His wife who always looked full of life whenever she saw him, her eyes were now looking dead as she met his gaze, with tears streaming down her cheeks. She was being tied to a chair, facing their dining table, with her mouth gagged.

He didn't know what was happening, but as his bag had dropped on the floor, his gaze went down, and what he saw made him scream in terror.

"No, no, no, not Nate," he cried, running towards his son's lifeless body lying on the floor. He heaved his son's petite body, and brought him close against his chest, while he cried in anguish. His son had turned blue, a sight that would forever haunt him.
"Not you, please..."

He continued crying, hugging his son as memories flashed before him, until he heard his wife whimpered, eventually snapping him to reality.

With one last kiss on his son's forehead, he slowly lowered Little Nate back down on the floor, and ran to his mourning wife.

"W-what's happening?" he managed to say as he tried to let her free, but the sound of slow claps behind him, quickly made him turn around.

"What a pity," the man, with a long and deep scar across his right cheek, carrying a metal cane, mumbled forlornly. "It's a shame your son had to die..." he added, reducing the distance between them.

"You...Who are you?" he asked, although for him, the man with the scar, looked familiar.

"Me?...I'm just the person who's gonna kill your entire family."

He gritted his teeth in anger, "You have to go through me first, before you can touch my wife," he said, changing to a fighting stance. He was mourning for his son's death, but he couldn't show it or the scarred man would take it as weakness.

"I already did..." the scarred man replied calmly. He didn't even faze, seeing the mourning father ready to fight. He showed no emotion, enough to give anyone chills, like it did to the father.

The scarred man suddenly took a step forward, causing the father to take a step back in surprise, but it was just for a moment when he realized he shouldn't show the intruder any weakness. Without much thought, he launched the first attack, aiming his fist to the scarred man's face, but when he saw a grin had unexpectedly appeared on his expression, he hesitated and missed his target when he easily evaded.

"My turn," he heard the scarred man mumbled amusingly, and hearing it, dreaded him.

The scarred man held his cane, and with a sudden flick, for like a second, Little Nate's father felt a searing pain in his stomach. He looked down, and saw blood had already seeped through his dress shirt. His knees immediately buckled, he could only feel the intense pain, and as he glanced at the scarred man, he noticed him slid the glinting blade back to its sheath, before his body had slumped on the floor, dead.

Staring down at the lifeless body of the father with blood pooling under him, the scarred man then took his hidden knife, and proceeded to stab the man continuously on his back, smiling as with his every stab, came more blood oozing from the gaping wound.

It went on for a moment, until he felt satisfied, and then wiped his knife clean with the dead man's shirt, before standing up and put the weapon back on its sheath, in his behind. Looking down on his bloody artwork, he then took a black rose out of his coat's inner pocket, and dropped it on to the dead man's back.

Realizing he still had one more job to do, he looked at the dead man's wife, and a sadistic smirk had appeared on his face.

"Don't think I forgot about you," he said amusingly, "...now where were we?"