Society

Chapter 3

I sat outside for a while, studying the silhouettes, identifying the shapes. There were four I could see, two of which were familiar and the other two looked foreign. I remember the household all too well, the father and mother were both fat slob who saw themselves as better than all others due to their homes and abundant access to food. They were grotesque. The father was violent, not only to me but occasionally to his wife and daughter but mainly to me. He used me as a little slave, to whom he could dictate his every whim; his large sweaty hands often left their imprints upon my face whenever I refused to complete his demeaning tasks, whether it was to clean their clothes, entertain them or just to be hit. Often he would take pleasure in 'teaching' me how to endure. He would hit me until I bled and I still have scars pale and white from such lessons.

His wife, although equally grotesque and pompous was not nearly as violent except for the occasional backhand for refusing to follow instructions. This was probably due to her similar experiences with her darling husband. She however was not any nicer; instead of physical abuse she would just assault me with verbal unjustified name, profanities and atrocities. She often commented on my weakness, that which she perceived while I endured beatings. At this time I was weak malnourished and, in all fairness, was weak However her remarks still stung my endurance for me was a sign of strength and she was attempting to deprive me of this one attribute to which I held pride. She was a hypocritical fool however for what she considered weakness was also present within her as her husband would often hit her for being 'rude' although her layers of blubbering fat most likely protected her from the blunt of the strike.

The other two people I saw in the house were most likely the two children they had, they had both a daughter and a son, the daughter had been a year or two older than I and often took pleasure in tormenting me. She unlike her parents was slender but had the face of a mule and the voice of one to, she often laughed at whatever pointless act she demanded I do and I would quite happily have punched her teeth out. I am fairly confident it would have made a vast improvement. The son however was only a child, not yet old enough to talk or crawl for that matter and assuming that was who resided within the walls, I' m surprised he survived childhood with his father's cruelty.

I sat outside behind the rubble surrounding the building as the sun began to set, as it did I moved closer to the house. Although the darkness in no way benefited me, it neither hindered me and I had got into a habit of working in the dark. I reached the door and pulled out a long knife, I knocked on the door; the sound was so peculiar, the hollow rasping noise that was so unfamiliar yet vaguely reminiscent of a time long since passed. I heard the clicking of what I assumed was heeled shoes on the wooden floor, holding up my knife the door opened and the sister opened the door. She was unmistakable, her nose was piggish and upturned her teeth far too large for her mouth but other than her hideous face she was fairly attractive.

She looked at me oddly, and opened her mouth to say something but I quickly stabbed her throat and watched her fall against the wall grasping at both her neck and the wall and then her gargled cries died away as she slumped to the floor. I heard a faint cry from somewhere else in the house most likely enquiring about whom the late night visitor was, I closed the door and walked down the hall. I walked into the familiar living room where the two corpulent people sat, the seats under them sinking under their weight. The mother was facing where I entered and the father had his back to me, the brother was nowhere to be see. I looked at the woman and let a smile cross my face and politely nodded my head to her, she looked at me curiously.

"I'm sorry but who are you and where did my daughter go?"

The father started to turn round; I quickly jumped forward, forcing his head towards his wife. I raised my knife up to his throat.

"Oh are you trying to say you don't remember me? Really? Oh and you're hog faced daughter is lying dead by the door, now any more questions?"

The mother looked at me fear stricken and I saw her sweat oozing out of her pores. The father began trying to fight me so I very quickly slit his wrists before he had the chance to do anything. I raised the knife to his throat as his wife began to whimper to herself.