Incomprehensible [Zayn]

00 | Prologue

Incomprehensible (adjective): 
1. Impossible to understand or comprehend; unintelligible.
2. Archaic. Limitless; not limited or capable of being limited.

"DON'T SCREAM, OR I will kill you. Don't move, or I will kill you. Don't even look towards the exit, or ... well, I think you can guess what I'll do to you?" the stranger said to the petrified woman before him. 

She was sobbing uncontrollably, unable to escape the corner she had been forced into or the sight she had just witnessed; her family had been murdered before her very eyes.

It had been unexpected and brutal. The boy before her had ripped them apart as if they were made of nothing but paper, his strength something she had never before seen. He looked so normal, so young and unthreatening and that's what frightened her the most. Furthermore, the look in his eyes confirmed what she already knew to be true - that he wasn't finished.

She averted her eyes from the gory remains of her loved ones. She knew it was stupid to hope, yet she searched for some sign of life, a twitch of a finger or a breath drawn - anything to show that her family weren't truly gone. 

Nothing. 

She couldn't help but wonder how long it would be until she stopped breathing too.

She drew her gaze to the killer and nodded once to show she had been listening. Quickly, she looked away again only for her eyes to single out a drop of crimson on the once pristine carpet below. 

More tears spilled down her cheeks as she prayed for the horrific flashes of death to fade away.

Her four-year-old son lay mangled to her left while her teenage daughter was lying somewhere behind the creature.

She recalled the boy being gentle with her girl, almost contradictory to the true, predatory nature that had shortly followed. A soft caress upon her daughter's cheek had soon turned into a tight grip upon the shoulders, the creature's head slowly lowering to the crook of her neck. It had initially seemed innocent. Nothing more than a sign of affection - a whisper? A kiss, perhaps? 

However, it had been so much more – a strike. 

Blood, screaming, and finally a body. 

Her daughter collapsed to the floor as a corpse. 

Her son had been next.

Finally, her husband as he'd shot down the stairs when the screaming had begun.

The boy shifted before her. He seemed agitated that she refused to look him in the eye. She didn't dare, for she knew that he could do something evil while looking you in the eye. She'd seen it happen to her daughter.

"Do not be afraid," he had murmured before lowering his head to her throat. Almost instantly, her daughter had relaxed, like his words had coaxed her into a trance. She was under his command.

"Look at me!" hissed the boy suddenly. 

The woman sobbed louder, shaking her head erratically from side to side, refusing his order. A growl escaped his parted lips, and he took a step closer.

"N-no," the woman tried to beg. She held her shaking hands up to defend herself.

He pushed her arms aside, her defensive stance broken. "I said," he started, bending to crouch over her. He grabbed her upper arms and roughly pushed her up against the wall. Just as she was about to scream for help, an ice-cold hand was slapped over her mouth, "look at me!"