Chapter 10: 'Abel is weak, Cain is strong'

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*Dedicated to Sweven97 whose book 'Rebel' is one of the most well written stories I've read, check it out!*


Abels eyes fluttered open. He was lying on the cold bathroom floor naked and curled up into a ball shivering. He slowly lifted himself to his feet shakily. His muscles were cramped from his uncomfortable sleep on the floor where Cain had left him. He was completely naked.

He turned and looked at his skinny pale white body in the mirror. Old scars and new blood.

The blood wasn't his. Abel shrieked and frantically tried to rub the blood off of himself.

He opened all off the taps splashing water on himself and rubbing furiously. It wasn't all coming off. He looked around in a panic for a sponge. Abel quickly grabbed the sponge and scrubbed himself while tears streamed down his face. Abel didn't like blood.

Once he was sure he had no more blood on him, Abel turned the taps off and began drying himself. He shivered and held back tears as he dropped the towel and walked back over to the bathroom mirror. There were some scars he remembered, some that he forgot and then there some he ignored, that he didn't want to remember and wished he could forget.

He shivered again. Abel hugged his chest tightly and clenched his teeth as he walked out of the bathroom looking for clothes. He smiled as he saw a crumpled shirt on the floor.

He bent down and picked up the shirt slowly, his body still sore and aching.

Abel gasped, screamed and threw the shirt against the side wall. He fell to his knees with his hands gripping his hair and his elbows in his lap. He ran his hands down his face and clasped them together in front of his chest. There was blood on the shirt. There was blood on him earlier. There was a lot of blood. Cain had killed again, he had killed Aimee because of him.

It was his fault, always his fault. Every death at the hands of Cain was his fault.

Every death, Including the first two.

*****

Edward and Lucille Abercombe had things done their way. Everything had its place and life was lived accordingly to strict rules to which the price of disobeying was extremely severe.

They were high-class pretentious aristocrats that were held in high regard in the community and were respected and revered by all. They smiled and waved, attended charity functions and held grand, extravagant dinner parties. Everyone respected and loved dental surgeon Edward Abercombe and his beloved wife Lucille. Little did the community know that the Aberombes despised them all. They looked down upon everyone that was of lower status to them. The people equal to them were despised because the Abercombes didn't want equals, they wanted to be superior, better than all. Those of higher status were despised most of all. For them, a searing burning rage was reserved. Everything they did, they did to raise their station. They lived on the admiration of those they despised and the only joy they had in life was from looking down on those with less than they had.

Even the birth of their child was because of ego. Lucille didn't want her peers to think of her as barren and unable to conceive and Edward wanted to raise a son in his image so their name could live on. So Abel was born. He was always a difficult child. Every night he cried and screamed. He was prone to violent fits and outbursts of delusional rantings.

The Abercombes had little time for child that they now regarded as a mistake.

Abel was brought up by expensive nurse maids that never lasted more than a month before they quit and had to be replaced. He was kept indoors and taught by private tutors.

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