Omens (wattys2016)

Prologue: death and the act of dying

     There are roughly ten pints of blood in the human body. It took approximately twenty-seven minutes and forty-five seconds for all of these pints to leave my body. I know this because, ten minutes into exsanguination, my soul left my body. I stood there, peering down at the bloody heap that was my knife wound ridden body, watching the blood slowly stain our beige carpeting.

     Everyone else was already dead. My mother, father and two older brothers. They had gotten away easy...one quick slice to each of their throats. It took about three minutes for each of them to stop breathing. I know this because he made me watch. I sat there, tied to the kitchen chair, forced to watch as the life slowly faded from each of my family members eyes.

     He took his time with me. Started with small shallow cuts that stung but did not bleed much. A one inch cut below my collarbone. A three inch cut below my knee. A half inch cut below my ear. I could go on and on listing them all. He got angry when I refused to scream, refused to give him the pleasure of watching me squirm. That is when the real Hell began. He managed to hit every major organ I had. Ten minutes later I was standing at the doorway of the living room, watching myself turn blue as the blood left my body. He placed the knife in his black gym back and left...not even bothering to make sure I was fully dead.

     The paramedics showed up five minutes and twenty five seconds too late. The first one on the scene, a young boy with a name tag that read "Ben", threw up when he saw us all. I don't blame him, it was quite gruesome. He was removed from the house in tears, his loud sobs echoed in my ears as they placed him in the back of the police car to 'take a minute.'

     The rest of the team handled it quite well. They kept their cries silent as they worked over us quickly, trying to revive our lifeless bodies.

     I knew he was standing there, in the darkened hallway, watching me watch myself die. He had not spoken, had not announced his presence but I knew he was there. I had known from the moment my soul left its home that I was not alone in the room. I could feel his eyes on me, watching, waiting to see how I would react.

     I turned to face the blackened space, unable to see anything more than the outline of his figure. I stared blankly at the outline for a few seconds, waiting to see if he would step into the light. I was met with only silence.

     "So this is it?" I ask quietly, "This is how it happens? We spent months running! Months hiding and he just sneaks in here in the middle of the night and kills us all? This is bullshit."

     The outline laughs. I fight back my rage, knowing there is nothing much that can be done. I am dead and this guy, this masked man, had managed to kill me with little to no effort.

     My chest begins to burn, the fire spreading through my whole body. I grab at my shirt, falling to my knees. Jeez this hurts almost as much as the whole being stabbed thing. The room begins to spin, blurring around the edges. The outline reaches forward, thick fingers locking around my wrist. I am too weak to look up, only catching a glimpse of the thick tribal tattoo that circles his wrist.

     I feel myself being pulled, drug across the room towards where my body has now been untied and laid onto the carpet. The fingers released me as my vision begins to blackened.

     "Can you hear me?" There is a bright light flashing in my eyes.  It moves back and forth, like the pendulum on a clock. Everything hurts. I cannot move. I watch the light and its repetitious movement, so hypnotizing.

     "Ma'am can you hear me?" the voice repeats. "Hey! We have a live one over here!" I try to respond but nothing but wetness comes up. My mouth tastes like it is full of pennies. Blood. My mouth is full of blood. My blood.

     My eyes dart around the room as it comes into focus. I watch the paramedic gather around me. I feel the burn as their needles slide into my flesh, searching for a good vein. I hear their voices, low as not to alert me, as they argue over how it is impossible that I am conscious.

     "Too much blood." "It has to be a spasm or something." "Her chest is moving." "This isn't possible." "Hurry up and get her on the stretcher."

     I catch snippets of their sentences as I feel my body being lifted off the carpet. I try to scream, to tell them to quit, but my sounds are nothing but wet gurgles. My chest continues to burn, threatening to turn me into nothing but ash.

     My vision begins to blur again as the pain medicine starts to kick in. I can feel the burning being to fade along with my sight. I catch a glimpse of him as the world begins to slip away. He stands off to the side of the room, watching them haul me away. He is a whirlwind of shapes but I can make out his eyes. So green it is unnatural. I keep my eyes on his until the world is nothing but a black hole...dragging me into it.