McCafferty's Kills

The Little Boy on Clark Circle

     The shiny silver blade in Rina's hand gently carved into the flesh of Mr. Birchman's chest. She carved symbols- little peace signs, smiley faces, hearts. She smiled at her work, though it may be childish, and she giggled at the 34-year old man on the wood floor. Rina patted Mr. Birchman's forehead and then took off her disposable gloves. She shoved them in her jeans pocket, pulling out cigarettes from the other. As she lit one up, she decided to walk around the room. This was like any other Saturday night for Rina, slicing through somebodies flesh and then lighting one up to smoke over the body. As she was cleaning her kitchen knife in the sink, cigarette in her mouth, Rina heard a creak. A door opening? No, this was the sound of someone walking on wood. 

     When Rina turned around, there was a boy, about 10, stood staring at her. "What did you do? What," the little boys voice was shaking, and he started crying. "What happened to my daddy!" Rina winced as the child yelled at her, but Rina sighed after. She really didn't like killing kids. But he'd seen too much. "I helped him to a better place, hun," Rina was careful with her words. The kid can't run, he'd seen her face. And what she did. "He's dead! You didn't help him! Y-you, you killed him!" Rina took a step towards the boy. The knife was in her hand, and she had put out her cigarette. "I promise you, he is somewhere better, and I didn't touch him. What's your name, little one?" A few beats of silence passed before he answered, "I'm Martin." Rina thought, and thought, and thought. "Martin is such a horrid name. Why would anyone name their child that? Cruel people, huh," Rina shook her hands. Martin looked at the not-quite-but-still-stained knife in her grasp. "You sure you didn't kill him? You promise?" Rina nodded. "Say, Martin, would you like a new name? Certainly I can come up with something better than Martin," 

     After an hour, Martin was now Wren. After two hours, Wren was passed out, in the trunk of Rina's car, next to his dead father. After three hours, Wren's dad was in the river, and Wren was in Rina's basement.

     Rina genuinely did not like killing children. So, she's going to raise Wren. A successor? No, that's extra. Company? Perhaps. She glided down the basement stairs, and opened the basement door.

     It was dark, boxes upon boxes stacked and scattered everywhere. The floor, walls, and ceiling were cement, but Rina had some rugs on the ground and wall decor hanging up. She was a psycho, but she certainly wasn't bland. Wren was laying on an old couch, snoring peacefully.

     Rina kicked Wren in the shin, waking him up. "Yea?" Wren rubbed his eyes groggily and stretched. Rina sighed, and shrugged her shoulders. Mostly to herself than anyone, wondering what the hell she was doing. A captive? She's never held someone captive! Her number one rule was, leave no spectators. And she never did. Then again, she's never had a child as a witness...

     Wren stood up and hugged Rina. Hugging? Rina hugged back. "Where are we, mommy?" She froze, mommy? Mommy? "Mommy? What do you mean, Wren," It came out more a demand than a question. "Well, Daddy always cried at night, looking at me from the hall. He always cried that one day Mommy would come back to get me, and that he didn't want to lose me." Rina held Wren tighter, and sighed. "Wren, what does that have to do with you calling me 'Mom'. Do you think," she hesitated, "do you think that I'm your mother?"

     Wren nodded into Rina's chest, and she held the boy even tighter than before.