The Puppet Assassin - Ch 15 [i don't want to want to know - | - dizelde]

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Song to the side has nothing to do with the chapter. It just makes me happy. My fellow Aussies should recognise the tune... hehehe. So awesome.

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"There's nothing certain in a man's life except this: That he must lose it"  

- Aeschylus, Agamemnon  

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Chapter Fifteen  

I Don't Want To Want To Know | Dizelde  

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One, Two.

The boy's eyes were wide, even though I could SEE the sweat dripping into them. He was STARING at me. It was like he wanted to say something but couldn't speak. But he didn't have a gag on. The man had taken the gag off.

-Oh God! Not another of these DREAMS!-

I scooted farther into the shadows of the corner, closing my eyes. Now I could hear him squirming on the scratchy floor, as well as the sound of moving liquid. I peeked through my lashes to see that the floor beneath him was RED, dark, dark RED.

Three... Three...

Footsteps on the stairs gave me warning of his incoming. I curled in on myself, trying to make myself smaller. But I kept quiet. Whimpering, crying, moaning... the people that did those things didn't live long. The man didn't like it.

Four, four came next. Then Five.

The dark boots showed first, the black legs following. He was tall. It took a while for him to come into full view.

-I don't want to be here! STOP THIS NIGHTMARE! LET ME WAKE UP!-

His face was all hard lines but all I ever really noticed was his eyes. Their golden hue. Same as mine. The cracked mirror in the bathroom had showed me that I was the same kind of monster as this man. That was what he was teaching me. To hurt these people so that I could grow up to be the same monster. The silent boy thrashed on the floor, his mouth open, a gurgling sound rising from him. I peeked at him again and saw that the red, the blood, it was coming from his mouth.

S-six... Seven... N-nine. No - not yet.

The smell was putrid. Worse than ever. I felt bile rise up from my stomach but quickly, and painfully, swallowed it back down. It was a bad idea to draw attention to myself. But, even as he strode to the boy, he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and his mouth creased upwards. His smile made the vomit rise again and I bent my head, gasping for air.

EIGHT was next! EIGHT! And then... Nine.

Don't do it. Don't. Please. Don't hurt him more. Let him go. Hurt me. Hurt me.

'stop it' I didn't know if I'd spoken the words out loud or not. HE didn't seem to have heard. He was reaching to the boy's pants, the knife in his hand. I wasn't gonna watch. I wasn't gonna run. I wasn't. I charged at my father, teeth bared, my little legs pumping. I would hurt him, I would take his attention away from the boy. He could hurt me instead.

I broke away from the dream just as I rolled off the bed, and shot awake as I collided with the floor. I immediately rolled onto my stomach and pushed myself up off the floor, quickly rising to stand straight. I had a moment of disorientation, the door was on the wrong side of the room and the light from the window was shining on my bed rather than my desk, then it all clicked and the dream chose this moment to push back into my head, the images flickering like an old film.

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