Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Blood Stain Child
The wind hit my face with the feel like that of a soft hand. The flowers of the flowerbed were filled with bright and warm colors. I breathed in heavily, staring at the setting sun. I was like a slave there, but it felt great to even be alive. If it wasn't for them, I would be dead. I heard tiny footsteps and turned around to see who it was.
"Demon!" My ears twitched and then stones fell onto me. I yelped holding my head down to block them. Again. I was called a demon, again. The word stung in my head. They repeatedly called me that, but what does it even mean to be a demon? I looked the same as them, besides my cat ears, tail, and fangs. Other than that, I was like them.
"Demon!" The name haunted me and echoed loudly in my head, with every heart beat and with every breath. I never talked to anyone and never defended myself, but something snapped for the first time. I found myself hitting one of the kids. I couldn't handle it anymore. The others yelped and tried to pull me off while I repeatedly placed my fist into the kid's face. I scared the others away by baring my fangs at them. I knew that I was different, but a demon? What does that mean?
A gun shot rang in the air which made the kids around me stop. I did not. I didn't stop until a yummy scent moved through the air. My hands were covered in it. A red liquid was pouring out of the young boy's mouth. This was the leader of the kids that always called me words. Tears fell out of the young leader's eyes while he coughed.
"N-n-no m-more. P-p-please s-stay a-away. Y-you h-h-hurt m-me." The boy cried before closing his eyes and falling asleep. I slowly moved backwards off the kid with deep breaths. My master, I mean step-mother, came out screaming at the sight. She looked at me with her eyes wide. I must have done something wrong.
The male who shot the gun, quickly picked up the boy covered in the sweet liquid. He shot a wary glare towards me before running off. The children ran behind him. Some looked back to give me a mean stare while others looked scared. My step-mother looked at me with fear in her eyes. My step-father came out, looking me over. He seemed terrified, too. He quickly grabbed me by my hair and pulled me into the house. It hurt, but then again, he always said that every time he did it, he was showing me love, so I smiled. Tough love would always hurt. I was thrown into my room, and the door slammed closed, like it always did. I smiled at the action. I must have done something right because they were treating me the same. Maybe I had done even a little better, for not getting yelled at or beaten.
I looked at the red water on my hands. I quickly took a small lick. It tasted so good. I quickly licked my hands clean. I didn't know where the liquid had came from, but it was good none-the-less.
I sat in my room, smiling and thinking about what I was going to do tomorrow. I started looking at the things I had to do. I got the bright idea to work for a while before I went to bed. I opened my door and started down the stairs. It was weird that night, as it was darker than it usually was. I stopped at the last couple steps because I heard my name.
"Kiku...she's a monster. Did you see what that cursed child did? That boy is still in the hospital. If she stays here, then she will kill us all," my step-mother said hysterically. Her whole voice was shaking. I pushed myself against the wall. What did she mean? I looked around the corner to get a better look. A small voice in my head laughed while I watched terrified. The only light in the room was from the fireplace. My step-mother held her head. It looked like she was going crazy. I looked at my step-father. He had the sword out which was one of his prized possessions. He used it when the pig was plump so that we could have bacon and ham. I eyed it in confusion. We didn't have any pigs at the moment. The long I stared, the creepier I felt. I could feel the hatred that was coming from him.
"Give a bad name to our family! She should be asleep! I'll kill her, and everything will turn out fine." I saw the way his eyes looked. I pushed myself closer to the wall. My eyes were like round stones while my body changed from frozen to shaking. A voice in my head grew louder.
"Either run, or kill them. Move. The fear is too great for you. You're weak," the voice hissed. It sounded like my own voice, just darker. Streams of tears raced down my face and dropped to the floor. I finally forced my body to move, but a wrong move it was. My body, to my horror, fell down the stairs. I picked myself up quickly only to be motioned to come to my step-father's side. I shook my head "no" as the tears rolled down.
"So you've been listening to the whole thing? This will make it easier," my step-father said as he stepped towards me with the sword raised. I moved up against the wall. I couldn't speak and only whimpered. "We never loved you, Kiku. You were just a slave, or does a puppet fit better? You're so stupid that you can't even talk," step-father declared.
"Get up and tell him that he was just a fool to take you in if they didn't love you," the voice boomed in my head. My eyes grew strong. I stopped cowering in the corner. I got up, took a mouth full of air, and then yelled. My small voice, for once in my life, was heard.
"You are a fool for taking me in if you didn't love me! I'm smart, smarter than you!! I'm not gonna die! I can't die! I will live! I must live!" my small voice screeched. My hands turned into fists with my hair covering my eyes. All there was to respond was silence. I looked up to see step-father moving the blade down. I quickly moved to the side at the sacrifice of my shoulder getting a deep cut. I stared at the familiar red that flowed out of the wound. Pain... the liquid...it was from pain. I felt woozy.
"Don't be afraid. Attack. Defend! Attack and defend!" the voice yelled in my head. My step-dad ran at me. He really had the intent to kill me if I didn't do anything...
"No...no....stop....NO! STOP IT!" I sobbed as my nails grew long and sharp. I grabbed the sword and pulled him close before stabbing upwards. I closed my eyes and listened to the sick sound of my hand slowly sinking in his chest. The sword fell to the ground with a ring and my step-mother bursted into terrible screams. Red liquid poured out of the wound and rolled down my arm. I felt a squishy thing that was slowly moving and grabbed it. I held it as firmly as a child could and removed it from his chest. A crash rang through the room as step-farther's body crashed to the floor. A red, liquid pool quickly formed under the body when it hit the ground. I backed up quickly and stared at the thing that moved in my hand. It continued for a few moments before stopping, forever. As soon as it stopped, I felt anger rise. I squashed it in my hand causing an explosion of red everywhere. I released my hand and the squishy, now flat thing, fell out of my hand. My eyes stared at my claws shaking.
"So much blood! Stop the bleeding! His heart! She removed it!" Step-mother gasped, running to his side and panicking with an insane look on her face. She put her hands on the gaping hole in his chest. She started to wail. I stared at my claws.
"B-blood," I whispered to myself. I quickly put a hand over my mouth trying not to throw up. That stuff that I licked off my hands clean had came from pain. It came from inside people. That liquid I loved the taste of so much was that in which we all need to live. I fell on my knees.
"You've seen enough blood. I'll take care of the rest," the voice in my head chuckled. I held my head because of the stabbing feeling within it. This pain in my head was the voice's doing, and I just knew it. I watched while my body listened to the voice. My body felt heavy at first, but then suddenly something took the heavy feeling away. It hurt so much that I wanted to scream until nothing came out. I even tried to, but I couldn't. Nothing would come out. My body wouldn't listen to me. My voice wouldn't listen to me. The only thing listening was my own thoughts. Even then, they didn't do anything. I watched the village die by my own small hands.